Foreigner: (10th Anniversary Edition) (54 page)

“I just got hold of Tabini,” Banichi said. “He says he’s glad you’re all right, he had every confidence you’d settle the rebels single-handed.”

He had to laugh. It hurt.

“He’s sending his private plane,” Banichi said. “We’re re-routed to Alujisan. Longer runway. Cenedi’s doing fine, but he says he’s getting wobbly and he’s not sorry to have a relief coming up. We’ll hand the prisoners over to the local guard, board a nice clean plane and have someone feed us lunch. Meanwhile Tabini’s moving forces in by air as far as Bairi-magi, three-hour train ride from Maidingi, two hours from Fagioni and Wigairiin. Watch him offer amnesty next—
if
, he says, you can come up with a reason to tell the hasdrawad, about this ship, that can calm the situation. He wants you in the court. Tonight.”

“With an answer.” He no longer felt like laughing. “Banichi-ji, atevi have all the rights with these strangers on the ship. We on Mospheira don’t. You know our presence in this solar system was an accident … but our landing
wasn’t. We were passengers on that ship. The crew took the ship and left us here. They said they were going to locate a place to build. We weren’t damned happy about their leaving, and they weren’t happy about our threat to land here. Two hundred years may not have improved our relationship with these people.”

“Are they here to take you away?”

“That would make some atevi happy, wouldn’t it?”

“Not Tabini.”

Damned sure not Tabini. Not the pillar of the Western Association. That was why there were dead men on the plane with them: fear of humans was only part of it.

“There are considerable strains on the Association,” Banichi said somberly. “The conservative forces. The jealous. The ambitious. Five administrations have kept the peace, under the aijiin of Shejidan and the dictates of the paidhiin. …”

“We don’t dictate.”

“The iron-fisted suggestions of the paidhiin. Backed by a space station and technology we don’t dream of.”

“A space station that sweeps down from orbit and rains fire on provincial capitals at least once a month—we’ve had this conversation before, Banichi. I had it with Ilisidi’s men in the basement. I just had it, abbreviated version, with the gentlemen in the back of the plane, who broke my arm, thank you very much, nadi, but we don’t have any intention of taking over the planet this month.” He was raving, losing his threads. He leaned his head back against the seat. “You’re safe from them, Banichi. At least as far as them coming down here. They don’t like planets to live on. They want us to come up there and maintain their station for them, free of charge, so they can go wherever they like and we fix what breaks and supply their ship.”

“So they will make you go back to the station?” Banichi asked.

“Can’t get at us, I’m thinking. No landing craft. At least they didn’t have one. They’ll have to wait for
our
lift capacity.” He began to see the pieces, then, in a crazed sort of way, while the arm hurt like bloody hell. “Damned right they will. The Pilots’ Guild will negotiate. They’re scared as hell of you.”

“Of
us?
” Banichi asked.

“Of the potential for enemies.” He turned his head on the head rest. “Time works differently for space travelers. Don’t ask me how. But they think in the long term. The very long term. You’re not
like
them, and they can’t keep you at the bottom of a gravity slope forever.” He gave a dry, short laugh. “That was the feud between us from the outset, that some of us said we had to deal with atevi. And the Pilots’ Guild said no, let’s slip away, they’ll never notice us.”

“You’re joking, nadi.”

“Not quite,” he said. “Get some sleep, Banichi-ji. I’m going to do some computer work.”

“On what?”

“Long-distance communications. Extreme long distance.”

Ilisidi was on her feet, hovering over Cenedi’s shoulder, Banichi and Jago were leaning over his. He had the co-pilot’s seat. It was a short patch cord.

“So what do you do?” Ilisidi asked.

“I hit the enter key, nand’ dowager. Just now. It’s talking.”

“In numbers.”

“Essentially.”

“How are these numbers chosen?”

“According to an ancient table, nand’ dowager. They don’t vary from that model—which I assure you we long ago gave to atevi.” He watched the incoming light, waiting, waiting. The yellow light flickered and his heart jumped. “Hello, Mospheira.”

“Can they hear us?” Ilisidi asked.

“Not what we say, at the moment. Only what we input.”

“Dreadful changes to the language.”

“‘Put in,’ then, nand’ dowager.” Lights flashed in alternation.
ID
, came up. The plane was on autopilot, and Cenedi diverted his attention to watch the crawl of letters and numbers on a small screen, all of which ended in:

—the further content of the lines wasn’t available to the screen.

Humans had, at least in design, set up the atevi system. It answered very well when a human transmission wanted through. The systems were talking to each other, thank God, thank God.

The plane hit bumpy air. Pain jolted through the nerve ends in the shoulder. Things went gray and red, and for a moment he had to lean back, lost to here and now.

“Nand’ paidhi?” Jago’s hand was on his cheek.

He opened his eyes. Saw a message on the screen.

The Foreign Office wanted to talk on the radio. He’d a headset within reach. He raked it up and fumbled with it, one-handed. Jago helped him. He told Cenedi the frequency, heard the hail sputtering with static.

“Yeah,” he said to the voice that reached him, “it’s Cameron. A little bent but functioning on my own. Where’s Hanks?”

There was a delay—probably for consultation. They hadn’t, the report was, finally, heard from Hanks. She’d gone into Shejidan and dropped into a black hole four days ago.

“Probably all right. The atevi have noticed we’ve got company upstairs. Ours, I take it?”

The Foreign Office said:

“
That’s
Phoenix,
in a high-handed mood
.”

“What’s the situation with it?” he asked, and got back:

“
Touchy
.”

“You want atevi cooperation? You want an invitation to
be
here?”

Are you under duress? the code phrase came back at him.

He laughed. It hurt, and brought tears to his eyes. “Priority,
priority, priority, FO One. Just bust Hanks’ codes back to number two and give me the dish on Adams, tonight, in Shejidan. I am
not
under duress.”

The Foreign Office alone couldn’t authorize it—so the officer in charge claimed.

“FO, I’m sitting here talking in Mosphei’ with a half a dozen extremely high-ranking atevi providing me this link on their equipment. I’d say that’s a fair amount of trust, FO, please relay to the appropriate levels.”

Atevi didn’t have a word for trust. The Foreign Office said so.

“They’ve got words we don’t have either, FO. Go with Hanks or go with me. This is a judgement call I’m required to make. We
need
the aiji’s permission to be on this planet, FO. Then where’s
Phoenix
’ complaint?”

The Foreign Office thought they’d talk to the President.

“Do that,” he said. “Much nicer if my call to
Phoenix
goes out through the dish on Adams. But the intersat dish on Mogari-nai is the aiji’s alternative, and I think he’ll use it, directly. Atevi could deal without me in the loop. If they wanted to. Do you understand? Tabini’s government is under pressure. That’s the disturbance in Maidingi Province. That’s where I’ve been. Tabini has to make a response to this ship. He’ll offer Mospheira a chance for input in that response. United front, FO. I think I can get that arrangement.”

Three hours, the Foreign Office said. They’d have to talk to the President. Assemble the council.

“Three hours max, FO. We’re
in
the Western Association, let me remind you. Tabini will act ultimately in the best interests of the Association. I earnestly suggest we join them.”

The Foreign Office signed off. The computer exchange tailed off. He shut his eyes, felt a little twinge of human responsibility. Not much. He’d be human after the hasdrawad met. After he’d talked to Tabini. He’d get a plane to Mospheira … trust the hospitals there to know where to put the pieces.

“Nand’ paidhi,” Banichi said after a moment.

They couldn’t have followed that exchange. Banichi might have followed every third word of it, but none of the rest of them. Damned patient, they were. And very reasonably anxious.

“Tell Tabini,” he said, “prime the dish on Mogari-nai to talk to that ship up there, tonight. I think we’ll get the one on Allan Thomas, but when you’re dealing with Mospheira, nadiin, you always assure them you have other choices.”

“What other choices,” Ilisidi said, “do we tell that ship up there we have?”

Sharp woman, Ilisidi.

“What choice? The future of relations between atevi and humans. Cooperation and association and trade. The word is ‘treaty,’ nand’ dowager. They’ll listen. They have to listen.”

“Rest,” Jago said, behind him, and brushed his hair back from his forehead. “Bren-ji.”

Didn’t want to move for the moment. It hurt enough getting up here to the cockpit.

Figure that Tabini probably knew everything they’d just said—give or take the computer codes; and don’t bet heavily on that, once the experts got after it. Anything you used, numerically speaking, to get past atevi, you couldn’t go on using.

But peace was in everyone’s interests. Certainly it was in Tabini’s. And in the interest of humans, ship’s crew and planet-bound colonists a long, long way from the homeworld.

He’d told Djinana they might walk on the moon. Lay bets on it, now, he would. Granted Malguri was still standing.

He made an effort to fold up the computer. Jago shut the case for him, and disconnected the cord. After that—the necessity of getting up.

He made it that far. Ended up with Banichi’s arm around him, Banichi standing on one leg. The dowager-aiji
said something rude about young men falling at her feet, and go sit down,
she
was in command of the plane.

“Let me,” Jago said, and got an arm about his middle, which stabilized the aisle considerably.

Banichi limped after them. Sat down beside him.

“Long distance, is it?” Banichi said. “If you go up there, we go, nadi.”

He couldn’t say he understood Jago
or
Banichi,
or
Tabini.

Couldn’t say they understood him.

Scary thought, Banichi had. But he suddenly saw it as possible, even likely, when negotiations happened, when Mospheira got that lift vehicle, or the ship up there built one in order to deal with them. Atevi were going into space. No question. In his lifetime.

Baji-naji.
The lots came down, Fortune and Chance made their pick. You weren’t born with your associates. You found
man’chi
somewhere, and you entered into something humans didn’t quite fathom with an altogether atevi understanding.

But in the way of such things, maybe atevi hadn’t found the exact words for it, either.

Ah after most sounds; =ay after j; e=eh or =ay; i varies between ee(hh) (nearly a hiss) if final, and ee if not; o=oh and u=oo. Choose what sounds best.

-J is a sound between ch and zh; -ch=tch as in itch; -t should be almost indistinguishable from -d and vice versa. G as in
go
. -H after a consonant is a palatal (tongue on roof of mouth). as: paidhi=pait’-(h)ee.

The symbol’ indicates a stop: a’e is thus two separate syllables, ah-ay; but ai is not; ai=English long i; ei=ay.

The word accent falls on the second syllable from the last if the vowel in that syllable is long or is followed by two consonants; third from end if otherwise: Ba’nichi (ch is a single letter in atevi script and does not count as two consonants); Tabi’ni (long by nature)—all words ending in -ini are -i’ni; Brominan’di (-nd=two consonants); mechei’ti (because two vowels sounded as one vowel) count as a long vowel. If confused, do what sounds best: you have a better than fifty percent chance of being right by that method, and the difference between an accented and unaccented syllable should be very slight, anyway.

Also, a foreign accent if at least intelligible can sound quite sexy.

Plurality: There are pluralities more specific than simply singular and more-than-one, such as a set of three, a thing taken by tens, and so on, which are indicated by endings on a word. The imprecise more-than-one is particularly chosen when dealing in diplomacy, speaking to children, or, for whichever reason, to the paidhi. In the non-specific plural, words ending in -a usually go to -i; words ending in -i usually go to -iin. Ateva is, for instance,
the singular, atevi the plural, and the adjectival or descriptive form.

Suffixes: -ji indicates intimacy when added to a name or good will when added to a title; -mai or -ma is far more reverential, with the same distinctions.

Terms of respect: nadi (sir/madam) attaches to a statement or request to be sure politeness is understood at all moments; nandi is added to a title to show respect for the dignity of the office. Respectful terms such as
nadi
or the title or personal name with
-ji
should be inserted at each separate address or request of a person unless there is an established intimacy or unless continued respect is clear within the conversation.
Nadi
or its equivalent should always be injected in any but the mildest objection; otherwise the statement should be taken as, at the least, brusque or abrupt, and possibly insulting. Pronunciation varies between nah’-dee (statement) and nah-dee’? (as the final word in a question.)

There are pronouns that show gender. They are used for nouns which show gender, such as mother, father; or in situations of intimacy. The paidhi is advised to use the genderless pronouns as a general precaution.