Tracker (39 page)

“Stop,” Bren said sharply, in a sudden silence. “Stop right there, sir. Everybody stop.” He took an easier stance and said, to the room at large. “Mr. Tillington has called Mospheiran security.
These
are atevi security. We've called ship security and they're coming. We're up to our
elbows
in security. Everybody please just stay seated and we'll sort this out. Understand what's going on. The President has instructed Mr. Tillington to defer to a Presidential envoy, who's arriving on tomorrow's shuttle.”

“Some bureaucrat who's got no idea what goes on up here!” Tillington shouted.

Bren raised his voice, swept a wide gesture. “We have a ship out there that's capable of destroying us where we sit! I suggest that we all calm down and consider what we're going to do.”

“Do?” Tillington shouted. “Do? Maybe you should go out
there
and talk to them!”

“As I will, at need! But you've done enough to complicate this situation, Mr. Tillington.”

Mospheiran security showed up in the doorway. Guild immediately shifted, Tano, Algini, Nawari, Geigi's man, and the four Guild Observers all facing them, while Jago held her arm still outstretched, still barring Tillington from a move toward the boards. Banichi alone stood watching the techs in stony, forbidding silence.

“Arrest him!” Tillington shouted. “Get him out of here!”

Mospheiran security, three in number, with two already in the room, didn't look supremely confident in that order.

“Security!” Bren said sharply in Mosphei'. “Stand your ground! Mr. Tillington is removed from command by order of the President.”

“He has no authority!” Tillington shouted.

Mospheiran security didn't move. Guild didn't move. And quick footfalls in the hall said another force was on its way.

Kaplan and Polano, in blue fatigues, entered the room, armed with rifles and focused on the five Mospheirans. Immediately behind them, Jase Graham arrived in the doorway, ship's officer, with two more blue-uniformed ship's security behind him.

“Captain Graham,” Bren said quietly, in great relief. “Will ship's security take custody of Mr. Tillington? I suggested that he take his complaints to the senior captain. I think the offer should still stand. He can wait in custody until the senior captain comes on-shift.”

“That can be arranged,” Jase said. “Sir. This way.”

Tillington hesitated, eyes darting.

“Sir?” Jase repeated.

Tillington found the power of movement. Walked toward the door, then snapped at Mospheiran security. “Don't leave! Witness what goes on here! I want a record!”

Jase accompanied Tillington out the door, and gave quiet orders to security outside.

Then came into the standoff again.

“Mr. Cameron. I understand Lord Geigi retains the handoff.”

“Yes. He does. And will.” Bren swept a look around the boards, where shaken, upset techs sat backed by dead screens, boards that wouldn't work until Geigi pushed a button in his section. He raised his voice. “Gentlemen. Ladies. We have absolutely no fault to find with you as a team. Please understand that. We need you to stay just a little longer. Please. Is there a way to communicate with Lord Geigi's office?”

Silence for a moment. Then one of the techs centermost nodded.

“Is there a way to bring a few of these boards live?”

“There's the handoff mode,” that man said. “Theirs and ours.”

“So I understand,” Bren said. “Good.” He looked around, as Guild, Mospheiran security, and Jase's bodyguard stood a little easier, but still watching each other, watching him, watching Jase.

“I came in here,” Bren said in a low voice, as Jase joined him, “to try to make peace with Tillington. Clearly it didn't work.”

“Wasn't likely to. Tillington already suspected he's on his way out.”

“Ogun said as much.” It was a large room. They were surrounded by Guild security, out of earshot of any human not amping the sound. Which might happen. A little caution was in order. “Tillington could have called the President to ask. Maybe he did. Maybe he didn't like what he heard. Do we have any assessment what conditions are, over in the sealed sections?”

“We're technically in charge,” Jase said.
“Ship
is. We've taken control of communications to those sections, at least. The emergency seal wasn't what we'd have done. But there
is
provision for doing it. There's water, sanitation, emergency supplies for considerable duration; and there are personnel refuges, but we're keeping all those resources locked for now. For one thing, we don't want the psychology of resorting to those supplies. Ship personnel have been successful getting water and supply in: that's never been disrupted. And we don't want the emergency supplies used up, in case we have any worse problems.”

“Opening those doors, however—”

“No.” Jase drew a deep breath, staring at the techs across the room. “That wouldn't be the best move. What happened, Bren, when the news got out about the kyo—there was a report of a panicked mob in one Reunioner section, 23. The distribution center, mid-corridor, tried to shut down because the crowd was pushing in. A riot broke out, we scrambled security, and Tillington reacted with an announced closure on all section doors. I can't say it was a wrong decision—given the situation. But panic set in all over the station. People at work took out running, trying to get to family and friends. Reunioners definitely panicked. People tried to get out, and
in,
and people ended up hurt. All three distribution centers were looted, to the walls. People were putting water in every container they could find and emptied the tanks for 23 and 24. We did get security in through the personnel locks, we caught the runners and put them back into their proper sections in small groups—we kept a list, but just put them back. So that's where we are now. All the other doors were opened again within a few hours. But the Reunioner residency sections are still shut down. The two adjacent sections are open to each other. The other, 26, is closed at both ends. Water's working, supply's getting to distribution centers. We've kept the public address going, and we've told them you're here and that the closure is temporary, for safety, and that you're optimistic, all that. We've tried to reassure them. And they
are
stationers. They're not tearing up things, except the initial mess. We're getting things through three freight accesses straight to the distribution centers. We put goods in on the Mospheiran side of the passage, roll a carrier through, offload, retreat and unlock that that door. The distribution people take the load in, we lock the passage at their signal and search it and lock it up again at both ends. Nobody's tried to exploit these points . . . so far. And people are respecting the armor guarding the doors. They're scared of it and we want it that way. That's what we've got.”

“Where's Braddock?”

“We haven't heard from him. That's another worry. We don't know where he is.”

“The kids?”

“I don't know that, either. At one point, about eight days after we got back, I called Gene's apartment. I talked to a woman I think was his mother, but she didn't want to talk to me. Fact is, by the time we got back, the parents wanted their kids, and they wanted not to talk to us. There'd been the delay. That was understandable. I gave it a little time. Frankly, I was busy debriefing, one conference after another. I brought up the matter, expressed the worry that the families might be pressured. Consensus was, even with Sabin, let the situation alone, give it time, there's no urgency. Two days later the kyo showed up. Right then I proposed going in, moving the kids and their parents out, and word was hell, no, we don't want to stir the Reunioners up. That went along until Central got the signal and word went all over the station. I don't know whether that broadcast was an accident or not. I don't know, just as I don't know what part Reunioner politics has played in the parents' reactions, refusing Geigi's invitations, refusing to talk to me. I haven't liked the reaction. I haven't gotten clearance to pursue it. But asking for the kids now—”

“They could become hostages.”

“Exactly.”

“Can you get people in there?” Bren asked.

“Can
I
get people in there?” Jase rephrased that, which one took to mean—taking it on himself. “We have people in there, between you and me. We get reports. We still aren't finding Braddock. We also have the distribution accesses in our control. How important is it, to request the kids again, right now? As far as we know, they're safe, they're supplied, they're with their parents.”

Jase had his constraints. Ogun and Sabin weren't unanimous. The station was in precarious balance.

He had his own . . . the kyo inbound, which overrode all other priorities—including time he was spending right now, trying to deal with the Mospheiran breakdown. And the kids were indeed with their parents, who presumably
could
take care of them. He understood Jase's position. It was also, reluctantly, his.

“I'll mention it to Sabin,” Jase said, “that we
should
have them somewhere in our planning, if there's a security breach. If it becomes critical.”

He thought about it, pros and cons. And what could go wrong . . . which was everything. “Mention it, if you can. The kyo situation tops everything. It has to. And if that situation can stay quiet, let it.” He cast a look past Jase's shoulder, at the blank screens, the techs who'd been waiting, not patiently. “Meanwhile we've got a tired staff who's not sure who's taking care of their interests. I'd like to get that question answered. Can you stay with me for a bit?”

“I'm missing Tillington's meeting Ogun,” Jase said wryly. “But that's probably a good miss. I'll stay here.”

Bren drew a deep breath, and with Jago and Banichi, who were bound to shadow him, he walked over to the half-circle of overtired techs, who probably expected—and dreaded—a dismissal from any control over the situation.

Mospheirans. As he was. And if they resented him, they resented everything they saw in front of them—his dress, his manner, his whole history, not to mention the massive atevi presence that had overwhelmed the room.

“Gentlemen, ladies,” he said quietly. “Who's senior tech, here?”

A man at the end console half turned, looking dubious, then slowly stood up.

“Will you come here, please, sir, so everybody can hear, and answer a few questions?”

The senior tech came, close-clipped hair, rumpled, many-pocketed jacket, career man in a field that hadn't existed when he'd started university, that hadn't been defined when he'd left everything and come up here. It was the story of most of them who'd come up to the station.

But this man would be all that
and
a supervisor.

“You need authorization for what's happened,” Bren said. “And I want to get it for you. Can we get communication with the incoming shuttle?”

“If Geigi's lot gives us communications.”

“I understand there's a handoff mode. Board linked to board.”

Head nodded slowly. Mouth stayed set.

“There is.”

“With that, with Geigi's boards and these boards both live, we can get communication with that shuttle.”

Eyes flickered, passing thought. “Ops handles shuttle-com, but we can get that link.”

“They'll have a passenger. They
should
have a passenger. They held the shuttle to launch right behind us for that reason. President Tyers has sent somebody—somebody with direct Presidential authority, and technical knowledge to go with it. There's been a secrecy issue, getting organized and getting up here as fast as we have, for fear there
would
be panic. But the reason for secrecy is past and the kyo certainly aren't going to understand the transmission. Can you get us a connection with the shuttle?” He read the name on the badge. Okana. And resolved to remember it.

Communications with the shuttle
might
have gone through ship-com with far less fuss.

But right now it was important for Mospheirans to have their hands on the connection, and it was important to bring Mospheirans and atevi operators onto the job. Rumors had flowed from this room, from someone's indiscretion. Let them flow again.

“Yes,
sir,”
the answer was. Mr. Okana started giving directions, and some of the techs, who had sat worried-looking and idle throughout, swung around to the boards and started to work. Others watched.

“When it comes,” Bren said, “put the volume up, so the whole shift can hear it.”

 • • • 

“Young gentleman,” mani said. Mani sat in her most comfortable chair, with her cane at hand, and a small, untouched plate of pastries. “Nand' Bren has successfully ejected Tillington-aiji.” Mani sounded very satisfied about that.

Cajeiri felt the same. He had sat studying his kyo notes for some time, keeping mani company, but his thoughts kept straying. He wished he might have gone with nand' Bren, but that had not been likely, so he had not asked. He wished he might have added Antaro to the people with nand' Bren, so he would get an account of what was going on. But he had not dared ask that, even.

So Antaro would have to get what she could from Nawari when he got back, if Nawari was permitted to say anything.

Tillington-aiji and Lord Geigi had been feuding about control of Central, he understood that extremely well; and Tillington was not behaving respectfully where it came to Lord Geigi, or reasonably where it came to the Reunioners.

And Lord Geigi had sent his letters over to the Mospheirans to be delivered, because that was the way things were supposed to work, but no answer had come back from them.

Which meant his letters were somewhere and not in the hands of his associates, he would be willing to bet on that. And that was Tillington's fault. So whatever else Tillington had done wrong, he had also disrespected his father's order and nand' Bren's arrangement.