Free Visitor: A Foreigner Novel by C. J. Cherryh Page B

Ilisidi set down her teacup. Click. “We are soon to find that out. Dismiss your other concerns, paidhi. We are extremely glad you were able to welcome Gin-nandi. We should wish to invite her to our table. And we are certain Lord Geigi would wish the same, but we are entirely disarranged by other guests not of our planning. The Mospheirans will be in some turmoil at her arrival: she will need to speak with them. The Reunioners are already in turmoil and
they
may need reassurance. But all these things must proceed without us. Certain things
must
remain in suspension, perhaps briefly, perhaps for an extended time, on the whim of our foreign visitors, and we are approaching the point at which we will not be able to deal with distractions. Is there any matter, paidhi, which perhaps should
not
remain in suspension?”
    He had been running his own calculations—his own estimation of what he could deal with, what he
should
deal with. He had been paring them down, even in visiting the parents last night, and this morning. In meeting Gin. In making contactwith Jase. One piece of business and another off his agenda, and out of his way.
    But there remained one matter, in Jase’s estimation. And in his.
    “Braddock,” he said. “Braddock.”

5
    T he operational as well as official transfer of station power was imminent—not the usual shift for a handoff, but days overdue; and Bren came to atevi Central to witness the first official and orderly handoff of station control between atevi Central and Mospheiran Central to take place since the news of the kyo ship had broken.
    Gin called from atevi Central, speaking Ragi—which was itself unprecedented. Gin didn’t have that much Ragi, but she had enough to introduce herself politely and very impressively on com broadcast to the whole atevi control center, and to request, formally, that “things” now pass to Mospheiran hands.
    “Excellently done,” Lord Geigi said warmly, in ship-speak. “Welcome, Gin-nandi.”
    Geigi knew a little human language—not unnaturally, he had more of a ship-speak accent than Mosphei’, and he scrambled two accents and a language inside five words, but he managed.
    Never in the history of the station had the atevi stationmaster and the Mospheiran stationmaster exchanged impromptu words in each other’s languages. Habitually, handoff had been a simple, prearranged series of button-pushes and button-push acknowledgments.
    It was a psychological change in their offices, a change in very many ways.
    The techs looked a little surprised, but not at all unhappy,and Geigi finished with, “Thank you, Gin-nandi,” in mixed ship-speak and Ragi.
    “One is pleased, nandi,” Gin’s voice answered, in Ragi. “Thank you.”
    And it was done. Atevi techs slid back chairs, relieved, after shift and shift and shift, hours on, and hours off only to snatch food and sleep a little.
    “We shall keep the regular rotation from now on,” Geigi said. “Honor to you all, nadiin-ji. You have done extravagantly well, and I shall list all my staff for the aiji-dowager’s personal remembrance. Go. Shut down now. We are resuming regular schedule in all respects. You will return at the official time.”
    There were happy expressions, tired people contemplating a meal and bed, and a decent time to rest before the shift came back to them.
    “The dowager bids me say,” Bren said quietly to Geigi, “that you are to rest, yourself, and that when you have leisure she will be pleased to see you, Geigi-ji. Your apartment right now is full of humans, both children and parents, and should you wish to take your hours of rest in my small guest quarters, you would be very welcome.”
    “One is grateful,” Geigi said, “But my staff will shield me, and I should pay respects to my guests, however briefly.”
    “I have one favor to ask in the meanwhile, Geigi-ji. I wish access to Braddock.”
    “Jase-aiji sends word that Ogun requests him sent to their security. I have referred