after asuitable time of sweating it alone—on the eve of our last ship-move—I asked you in on it . . . knowing . . . knowing, unless she does exactly what Ramirez did and freezes the station image . . . crew will see it, first glance. They haven’t thought to ask. No one’s thought to ask. But if it’s laid in front of them, they won’t take five minutes to figure it out.”
“It’s been nine years. Station could have repaired themselves. Wouldn’t they?”
Deep breath. “True. And the natural expectation would be, yes, just expect any survivors would have gotten rotation established, on a fairly high priority, to assure there
is
someone alive and healthy to meet us. So we might get through that. But not once information starts flowing, between stationers and us. Then we’ll get the questions—and I have a dire suspicion there’s more to it than we know.”
“You’re likely right.”
“I think crew could swallow the worst suspicions—if it’s on a soaring expectation of success. But having
lived
down in the lower decks, as, mind, none of the other captains have done—I think if we let the rest of the crew find out in the middle of a crisis that they were lied to like this, they’ll blow, and this time—God knows. God knows whether mutiny is a possibility, but it’s happened once, and we don’t forget that. Sabin’s not overly concerned for crew opinion—never has been. So here I sit, thinking yes, no, go this way, go that way—I’ve put myself in a position, digging this out, an uncomfortable one, but I’ve found it. And now I have to sit on it or let it loose. Either’s a decision.”
“No question.”
“Third choice. Do I confront Sabin?”
“Truth is a fair start for a complex operation. Truth—at least between two captains of the same ship.”
“So you think it’s a good idea to ask her?”
“I’m sure truth may precipitate certain things.”
“I’m sure of that, too. But do you advise me to do it?”
“The idea has a certain merit. And certain downsides. Are you
going
to do it?”
“I want you in on it.”
“I’m less sure that’s a good idea. My presence is provocative. Distracting from the issue.”
“To the good. I want you there. I want
Banichi and Jago
there.”
Bren was dismayed. “A threat?”
“A reminder to us humans we need to settle this quickly and not bring our unguarded tempers to our atevi guests or, for that matter, to the Mospheirans. I want all I’ve got on my side, environment, plain environment, not verbal argument. Sabin absorbs facts. She doesn’t listen to arguments worth a damn. What she sees in a confrontation,
that
impresses her. If she sees the two of them, she’ll know the scale of it. She’ll know there’s no secrecy possible there. Period.”
It was, in certain particulars, a fair assessment of the senior captain.
“So,” Bren asked, “when do you want me?”
“Now.”
“It’s four in the morning. Enthusiasm for the truth aside, is she going to be happier being waked up in the middle of her night?”
“Sleep-cycle,” Jase reminded him. “We have sleep-cycles. Only you planetary types have nights. You run a ship, you get odd hours. And her cycle’s closing out pretty soon. A moderately urgent
technical
consultation. I think that’s the way to put it . . . a step short of an operational emergency. That’ll get her on deck. If I say I just want to talk theory at this hour she’ll tell me go to hell. And if I bother her in her duty hours she’ll be on edge from the start and anxious to get back to schedule.
This
is an emergency.”
“I’d at least offer tea,” Bren said dryly.
“I don’t think she’ll stay for breakfast. Tea it is.” Jase punched buttons and sent away the schematic. The tape started over. Jase punched another button, this one on his collar. “C1. Captain Sabin to my office at earliest convenience, technical consultation. Wake her.”
“
Yes, sir,
” the answer came
“It’s been nine years. Station could have repaired themselves. Wouldn’t they?”
Deep breath. “True. And the natural expectation would be, yes, just expect any survivors would have gotten rotation established, on a fairly high priority, to assure there
is
someone alive and healthy to meet us. So we might get through that. But not once information starts flowing, between stationers and us. Then we’ll get the questions—and I have a dire suspicion there’s more to it than we know.”
“You’re likely right.”
“I think crew could swallow the worst suspicions—if it’s on a soaring expectation of success. But having
lived
down in the lower decks, as, mind, none of the other captains have done—I think if we let the rest of the crew find out in the middle of a crisis that they were lied to like this, they’ll blow, and this time—God knows. God knows whether mutiny is a possibility, but it’s happened once, and we don’t forget that. Sabin’s not overly concerned for crew opinion—never has been. So here I sit, thinking yes, no, go this way, go that way—I’ve put myself in a position, digging this out, an uncomfortable one, but I’ve found it. And now I have to sit on it or let it loose. Either’s a decision.”
“No question.”
“Third choice. Do I confront Sabin?”
“Truth is a fair start for a complex operation. Truth—at least between two captains of the same ship.”
“So you think it’s a good idea to ask her?”
“I’m sure truth may precipitate certain things.”
“I’m sure of that, too. But do you advise me to do it?”
“The idea has a certain merit. And certain downsides. Are you
going
to do it?”
“I want you in on it.”
“I’m less sure that’s a good idea. My presence is provocative. Distracting from the issue.”
“To the good. I want you there. I want
Banichi and Jago
there.”
Bren was dismayed. “A threat?”
“A reminder to us humans we need to settle this quickly and not bring our unguarded tempers to our atevi guests or, for that matter, to the Mospheirans. I want all I’ve got on my side, environment, plain environment, not verbal argument. Sabin absorbs facts. She doesn’t listen to arguments worth a damn. What she sees in a confrontation,
that
impresses her. If she sees the two of them, she’ll know the scale of it. She’ll know there’s no secrecy possible there. Period.”
It was, in certain particulars, a fair assessment of the senior captain.
“So,” Bren asked, “when do you want me?”
“Now.”
“It’s four in the morning. Enthusiasm for the truth aside, is she going to be happier being waked up in the middle of her night?”
“Sleep-cycle,” Jase reminded him. “We have sleep-cycles. Only you planetary types have nights. You run a ship, you get odd hours. And her cycle’s closing out pretty soon. A moderately urgent
technical
consultation. I think that’s the way to put it . . . a step short of an operational emergency. That’ll get her on deck. If I say I just want to talk theory at this hour she’ll tell me go to hell. And if I bother her in her duty hours she’ll be on edge from the start and anxious to get back to schedule.
This
is an emergency.”
“I’d at least offer tea,” Bren said dryly.
“I don’t think she’ll stay for breakfast. Tea it is.” Jase punched buttons and sent away the schematic. The tape started over. Jase punched another button, this one on his collar. “C1. Captain Sabin to my office at earliest convenience, technical consultation. Wake her.”
“
Yes, sir,
” the answer came
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