TEN
They’d been late getting back, and a line had formed.
Jethri stowed the materials from New Carpathia under the table, and motioned the first person to come forward.
It quickly became apparent that most of this crowd had come directly from a presentation made by Chiv DeNobli on the origins and movement of Rostov’s Dust. He’d recommended that attendees who wanted more detailed information, especially about the plans being proposed to keep trade and ships moving to the Seventeen Worlds, should stop by the table in the hall.
To Jethri, it looked as if most of them had.
He quickly pulled Bry Sen into the mix, to talk with pilots who had just started to notice Dust-induced errors.
That left Jethri with reps of planetary coops, and trade associations, who had very little understanding of the math, the Dust, or how either might cause them problems.
Jethri found himself repeatedly slipping his hand into his pocket to tap his lucky pocket fractin while wishing there was a way to hurry the visitors who’d been better off reading the signage. But the fractin was no help at all, remaining cool to the touch, and so far as Jethri could tell, entirely disinterested in the proceedings.
What did help was the two screens that a couple of clever cousins from the Carresens side had established on each end of the table. People could—and a number of them did—put themselves on a wait list to receive such information and procedures as were available, or to sign onto a class.
Jethri, who was talking with a small-time local trader from one of the Seventeen Worlds had just agreed that changes were happening now, and would probably get worse, to the extent of altering the rest of their lives, when a movement near but not of the waiting group drew his eye.
The face was familiar, the stance uncertain, as if the person was unable, quite, to commit to a course of action.
It was that wavering of posture that triggered recognition: Captain sea’Kera, who had apparently committed to something, after all, for he had a crew-duffle slung over one shoulder and carried a smaller bag in his off-hand.
He was wearing a generic uniform, lacking both Genchi’s logo and colors.
Jethri held up a hand to the line, requesting a pause, and stepped to the side of the table, producing a bow of puzzled welcome.
“Captain,” he said in Liaden, choosing Comrade mode as the most giving. “Is there some way in which I may assist you?”
Captain sea’Kera clearly sighed, bowed a recognition to authority, and approached. Jethri felt a movement at his elbow and was unsurprised to see that Bry Sen had arrived, his face specifically and properly bland. Captain sea’Kera bowed again, to an authority of a clan not his own. There was a fillip there Jethri didn’t recognize, though Bry Sen clearly did, because he moved half a step back, putting himself just barely behind Jethri.
“Trader, may I speak here, in confidence?” Captain sea’Kera’s voice was soft.
Jethri bowed his formal permission, which seemed to firm the man’s resolve.
He swung the duffel to the floor at his feet, and placed the bag next to it.
“Trader, I know this is sudden, but I have only this shift received necessary permissions from my delm. I may now put forth my resignation as captain of Genchi, effective as of start of shift, to you, as the representative of the owner. I have here all the ship documents I normally control, and I now formally turn them over to Pilot yo’Endoth as captain pro tem.”
He picked up the small bag and offered it across extended palms, as he bowed.
“Captain,” he said. “You have made yourself familiar with Genchi, as a good pilot ought. You do not need my assurance that the ship is sound, and the crew of good heart.”
Bry Sen stepped forward, took the bag. “I will do my best for her, Captain,” he said firmly, and stepped back to his previous position.
Jethri took a breath.
Captain sea’Kera straightened from his bow, and met Jethri’s eyes.
“Engineer eyl’Fassa holds Genchi and awaits your word, Trader, or that of the acting captain.”
Surely, this was his place to speak, Jethri thought, but Captain sea’Kera wasn’t done yet.
“I feel that you should be informed of my reasons, Trader.”
He took a deep breath, paused, and exhaled lightly.
“For over a dozen Standards Genchi ran quiet routes with a minimum of changes, few to no visitors, on a tight, reasonable schedule.
“It has become clear to me that the mission has evolved. Genchi now carries a trader of acclaim. Instead of running long-term fixed routes where few adjustments were necessary, Genchi will be acting as a…scout for a new route concept, and will from time to time be called upon to serve as a diplomatic base. This will entail many adjustments. I have no expertise in any aspect of this new mission.”
He paused, glanced down at his duffel, then back to Jethri’s face.
“I have no experience with a style of trade that prefers the trader’s direction to that of the captain. This is a question of my comfort and habit of command, and does not reflect upon you, Trader. You have been everything that is competent and amiable. It is clear to me that you have many new ideas, and I do not doubt that you will see them successfully implemented. In order for Genchi to do her best in these changed circumstances, she must have an able captain who shares your vision, and that of the new owner.”
He bowed once more, in respect, as Jethri read it.
“My arrangements are fixed. I will serve as temporary third officer on a Liaden ship which will be returning to Solcintra immediately after this event is completed. I am on my way to my new berth now, with your permission and agreement. This is necessity. Acting now spares all of us awkward moments at another location.”
It seemed that Captain sea’Kera had at last come to an end of all he had wished to say. He bent, picked up his duffel and placed the strap over his shoulder.
Carefully, Jethri bowed, accepting sea’Kera’s actions, and acknowledging that he had heard and understood.
“Necessity is, Captain,” he said. “I thank you for your cordial and prompt visit with me here, and wish you all the best going forward. Thank you for your confidence. Have you need for additional references or documentation you may apply to me directly if you so like. Allow me to assure you that we are perfectly aligned in Balance.”
Relief actually showed for an instant on Captain sea’Kera’s face, before he bowed once again to a recognized authority.
“Trader. Captain yo’Endoth. I leave you now.”
He turned and walked away.
Jethri turned to Bry Sen.
“We must in short order allow Master Trader pin’Aker to know of this development. The port, also, must be apprised of the change of captain. I will send to the port. You will please return to Genchi, reassure the crew, and send a pinbeam detailing our new configuration to Barskalee, marked for Master pin’Aker’s urgent notice.”
Bry Sen bowed briefly, and glanced over his shoulder at those standing in line, faces avid, curious, and a bit impatient.
“And you? Will you hold the bridge here?”
“Yes,” Jethri said, switching to Terran and raising his voice so that he could be heard by those in line. “I promise not to overstretch myself. Go ahead and get that done for us.”
“Yes,” Bry Sen said. He put the bag’s strap over his shoulder and turned away. Jethri let him walk six steps before he called out, “Oh, Cousin!”
Bry Sen turned, a quick, neat shifting of the feet.
“Cousin?” he returned.
“Be quick, willya?” Jethri asked. “An’ bring me a coffee when you come back.”
“Quick as can,” Bry Sen promised, and moved off at just short of a jog.
Jethri returned to the table, and spread his hands in apology to those waiting. “If it’s not one thing, it’s something else, am I right?”
A few chuckles and short laughs greeted that, and Jethri waved the first in line forward.
“What was all that?” she asked him, eyes wide.
Jethri shrugged. “Just some housekeeping, like we all do from time to time. Now, what have you heard about the Envidaria?”
He oughtn’t feel better now that the captain situation was settled, Jethri thought. He hadn’t wanted to be the one to dismiss Captain sea’Kera, even to a new berth, and he couldn’t help but feel that the man had had the right of it—do it now, do it quick, do it while the ship was in port for some days yet, so that any problems that might come up with the change of command could be dealt with calmly.
He took advantage of a momentary lull in visitors to send a comm message to the Meldyne Portmaster’s office, apprising them of Bry Sen’s ascension to acting captain.
By the time he hit send, the line had formed again, and Jethri went back to work, mood still elevated.
Next up was a young pilot who had a scheme for better distribution of Dust reports to the hubs.
“Good,” Jethri told him. “That’s exactly the kind of thing Freza DeNobli’s team wants to hear about. They’ll be at this table tomorrow, or you can use one of the keypads on this table to send a message, and somebody’ll contact you by comm.”
The pilot smiled and moved over to the keypad, while Jethri nodded at the next in line. He was feeling a little warm in general, and wondered if the hall was that crowded.
Then, he realized that it was his fractin that was warm—not vibrating, not obviously excited, just…warming, as if it had become slightly interested in the proceedings despite itself.
The line in had gotten bunched up somehow. What he could see of the person immediately in front of him was the back—someone of about his own height and weight, wearing a tailored day suit with nothing of the uniform about it. He was speaking quietly to the people behind him. He gestured suddenly, an overdone pilot’s sign—launched to the sky—the ring on that hand flashed, the firegem and Triluxian band combining to draw the eye.
Jethri knew that ring—knew exactly how to use its flashing gem to direct—or misdirect. Hadn’t he used it for both, himself?
Laughter and nods of agreement and the slightly louder retort to someone’s remark from the man with the ring came to Jethri’s ears.
“We all need some time to tend our own necessities, gentlefolk, and Dulsey is no exception. We’d not envisioned such a scheme as I’m invited to here, but here I must be, and she where she must be. Perhaps before the next congress we shall meet again on Tradedesk!”
The fractin in his pocket was actually hot, and Jethri had a vision of his pocket bursting into flames. The heat subsided somewhat, though the fractin was still warm, and he knew that ring, that hand—that voice.
Bry Sen swept in from the side at that moment, large cup in hand.
“The crowds are growing, Trader, just as you see! But I am returned in good time, with coffee and news!”
“Coffee first.” Jethri took the cup, and had a sip. Hot and bitter, and definitely not ’toot.
“What news?” he asked then, keeping an eye on his uncle’s back.
“Freza asks me to let you know that Bory is setting up a one-shot for you. From her expression, I deduce that this is not preferred.”
“A one-shot?” Jethri blinked. “No, it’s not preferred. To say it mild.”
He might’ve spoken too loud, or it might’ve been that his uncle was sensitive to his voice.
Whichever, he produced another extravagant sign—business goes forth—before he turned.
It was the face that had taken him, when they’d first met at Tradedesk. And it was the face that took him now. Almost his father’s face. If it came to that, almost his own, though there was that clear difference in age.
He bowed with opened arms, did Uncle Yuri, offering both professional acknowledgment and a fortunate reunion.
His conference ID badge swung out as he did, and Jethri read “Guest of the Carresens.”
Jethri bowed welcome, and waved Bry Sen forward. The pilot’s eyes flicked between the two faces, and his expression settled into polite blandness.
“Captain Bry Sen yo’Endoth of Genchi, please meet my Uncle Yuri.”
Bry Sen bowed welcome, and stepped to the side, motioning for the next in line to come to him.
Uncle Yuri leaned forward, close enough to share breath.
“You and I need to talk.”
Jethri’s fractin buzzed, no blame to it. There was definitely a touch of anger in that voice so like his father’s. Worse, it was as if Yuri had spoken twice; Jethri heard an echo of Rifuzo tian enmisigan! inside his head, which was surely the language of Malu’s ship, and he felt a flicker of the bright clarity the silver cape had imparted. He shifted his stance slightly, and heard his own voice answer, sharp for sharp.
“Ĉieloj diras, ke la petanto parolas pacience, dezirante aŭdita.”
His fractin stopped buzzing, and this time Jethri heard the translation in his mind: Celestials say a supplicant speaks patiently, wishing to be heard.
Yuri’s face went still. Jethri’s stomach tightened in his own spurt of temper.
The tone this time was less overtly angry, and woke no echoes of cape-borne languages. It didn’t do much for Jethri’s temper, though, being something too close to the tone Paitor used when he was explaining how stupid you’d just been.
“Clearly, we need to speak in depth, and urgently. Make time, and I will do the same. In the meantime, I pray you not meddle further with any objects you have from Elsvair. If you have any sense you’ll speak no more in that tongue.”
Well, that didn’t do much to improve the temper, did it?
Jethri bowed, with cutting brevity.
“It was perhaps an infelicitous phrase,” he said, which wasn’t an apology, and wasn’t going to become one, any time soon.
“For this other thing—you may have urgency, but I have business for some hours yet—two workshops to present, several meetings and a speech to prepare.”
Uncle Yuri frowned, the hand bearing the Triluxian ring rose to stroke the air between them. His tone this time was more moderate.
“Do not put me off, Jethri. You are very much in danger if you use certain objects without training, and your ignorance endangers many others. I have one unbreakable meeting here at the congress, and it begins in minutes. I understand that you are busy. Nonetheless, we must meet. This evening, as late as you must, as long as you need. That would be prudent. Here!”
Jethri took the proffered card, which carried a comm code under the image of a large, single crystal.
“You are the only one on this station with that code. Use it, and I will answer immediately.”