Explorer by C. J. Cherryh Page A

the crew thought was a plain promise of rescue of their stranded relatives, if the station survived, and pull the old Guild off Reunion, destroying all sensitive records in the process. Only on the voyage the wider truth of the senior captains’ assessment of the situation began leaking out, bit by bit, incident by incident. The only senior available to them here was Sabin. The other, Ogun, was back managing things at Alpha—presumably not pushing relations with the atevi further or faster than prudent.
    And typical of any dealing with
Phoenix’s
original four captains—he wished he knew which half of all Sabin said
was
the truth, or what resources she held that had made her willing to agree to this voyage, and what secrets she still kept close. More fuel reserve than they’d ever admitted to their allies who’d filled their tanks? A potential fuel dump at a place called Gamma? On both accounts, very reassuring news, though it would have slowed refueling efforts back at Alpha and given political ammunition to those who hadn’t want to fuel the ship at all.
    But both the possibility of repair to the station and a fear of finding alien presence there? Was that Sabin’s natural voyage-end pessimism at work, or a long-held conclusion based on more information than they’d yet laid hands on?
    Jase had to work with the woman, had to maintain cooperation and simultaneously keep alert for sudden shifts in Sabin’s intentions—about which they were
still
not convinced.
    “Take care,” Bren wished him.
    “Take care,” Jase said, too, and added, pointedly, counting the aiji-dowager down on five-deck, full of justifiable questions of her own: “Good luck.”

3
    There was no extended comment from Banichi and Jago, even in the lift: there, the ship’s eavesdropping was a given. There was no comment, at first, as they crossed toward the closed door of their own section, through that foyer they shared with Kroger’s corridor.
    But for the first time it was moderately safe to talk, in Ragi. “You followed most of it,” Bren said, “nadiin-ji.”
    “Certainly important points, nadi-ji,” Banichi said. “But not enough to be confident of understanding Sabin-aiji.” Banichi let them through the closed section door and into the long corridor that was their own domain. The dowager’s staff stood guard, as always, and passed them on without a word.
    “No one understands Sabin-aiji,” Bren muttered. “She deliberately obscures her actions.”
    “One perceives,” Jago said as they walked, “that there may have been a falsified television image when last the ship visited this station. That more secret records may be at issue.”
    “True in both instances.” He gathered his breath for an explanation. Didn’t even know where to start, about Ramirez’s actions and Jase’s suspicions, that ran back for decades.
    A missile from out of the galley hit the corridor wall.
    Ricocheted to the floor.
    And skidded toward them on the tiles.
    A red-fletched, blunt arrow.
    With a whisper of leather and a light jingling of silver weapon-attachments, Jago bent down and gathered it from their feet.
    A young atevi face peered from the dowager’s galley, down the corridor. Gold eyes went very wide.
    “No, we are
not
the indulgent side of staff,” Jago said ominously. “I am Assassins’ Guild on duty, young aiji, escorting the aiji of the heavens to his apartments in dignity fit for his office, young aiji. I react quickly tothreat. Fortunately for you, young aiji, I react as quickly in restraint, a lesson which in future might prove more beneficial than archery. Do you know what your
father
would say if he saw this arrow at Bren-aiji’s feet?”
    The future aiji exited the door, bow in hand, and stood contrite . . . as tall as a grown human; but far shorter than adult atevi. “Jago-ji, I put another lamina on the bow.”
    “Evidently.” Jago strode to the point of impact, which bore a slight dent. Young muscles as solid as