Tracker by C. J. Cherryh Page B

portico light, right behind the huge bus, and the servants rolled Boji’s cage out to it as the lift-gate lowered with a racket of its own. One attempted conversation with one’s guests. One tried to keep conversation light and happy.
    Meanwhile servants loaded Boji and his cage onto the lift-gate and got him aboard. Their big clothing crates trundled out on their carts. Behind those, nearer the door, smaller bags piled up. Most of that size belonged to their guests, and staff would stow those in the luggage compartment under the bus.
    Their belongings went aboard far too fast.
    Then it was their turn.
    â€œThank you very much, nadi,” Cajeiri said, correctly bowing a good-bye to Ramaso as they filed toward the bus. “Thank you for taking care of my guests.”
    Gene and Irene and Artur likewise made little bows, and thanked Ramaso, as they should.
    Then while nand’ Bren and Jase-aiji waited, they boarded the bus, Irene and Artur being helped a little up the tall steps.
    He and his guests and his own bodyguard had the whole back of the bus to themselves, and nand’ Bren’s two valets followed them back a moment later, immediately asking whether they wanted cold drinks or hot tea this morning.
    Nand’ Bren had said there was going to be breakfast on the train. Cajeiri was not sure he could eat breakfast, and he had no desire for hot tea at the moment. They had all stayed up late, since no one had come to ask them to go to bed, and it had been their last night together. So late into the night they had laid all their plans and made all their arrangements to get together again. And his stomach was upset now.
    He wished that Gene, hindmost in boarding the bus, and who had the most initiative of all his friends, had just bolted for the open land, dashed off across the fields and lost himself in the woods for a few days. In his wildest imagination he told himself if Gene just decided he was not going, then they might all miss the shuttle and have to stay and find him.
    Or if Artur and Irene absolutely had to go back to their parents and only Gene ran and missed the shuttle, the staff would just have to send Gene to Shejidan once he turned up. And maybe Gene’s mother would just say it was all right and Gene could just stay for a while. Gene said his mother never cared what he did, and anything he did was all right.
    Gene could survive in the woods until he was found—Gene knew how to dodge searches.
    But even before they had landed on the planet, Artur had said, Jase-aiji had warned them all that he and his bodyguards had the means to track them, and that if they broke one little rule or got into trouble—he would have to report it officially.
    So if Gene ran now—they might never get permission to come down again.
    It was a little mean, to tell them they could not make a move without the ship tracking them.
    But he understood. His own situation had begun to be exactly like that. He knew his aishid would have to find him. He knew their lives could be at risk if he misbehaved.
    So the notion of any one of them running now was just an empty dream. His guests all
had
to go back to the station when they promised, to prove they could, and would.
    And once they got home, they had to tell the right story to everyone who asked, assuring them that everything on Earth was perfectly safe, and never admitting there had been a danger of any sort.
    So they all settled, obedient and quiet on the bus; and Cajeiri’s bodyguard sat in the seats across the aisle.
    They waited, with no choice now, no wild escape possible. They had been lucky once: they had had one extension of their visit, which was probably because of technical stuff with the shuttle, though grown-ups could claim it was a favor to them.
    He hoped he was going to get his guests back, next year at least, because they
had
done well.
    Let them come every year until they were all just about grown—Irene being the oldest. He and