Tracker by C. J. Cherryh Page A

as tall as he was, back already turned, boarding the bus with his own bodyguard waiting.
    Damn, he thought as he headed back to the bus. He wasn’t sure whether Cajeiri had seen or prompted that exchange with Irene, but he was relatively sure Cajeiri’s young bodyguard had seen it.
    When he boarded, Cajeiri had gone to the rear of the bus with his bodyguard, and they were all talking to him, heads close together.
    The adult world that made good-bye necessary just wasn’t going to have any welcome advice for the boy right now. And he and Jase had planned as much as they could plan to be sure the kids
would
come back next year.
    It was bound to hurt.
    It
had
to hurt. But it was part of the boy’s growing up.
    He settled behind the driver with Banichi and Jago for the trip back, sighed sadly, and leaned back. The driver started the bus, took a broad turn, and headed back the way they had come.
    â€œHow is the schedule, nadiin-ji?” he asked them.
    â€œWe are well within the window,” Banichi said. “One freight is inbound for the port, but we have plenty of time.”
    They would have no trouble getting off the spaceport spur before then. The shuttle would launch before then.
    And it was significant that Cajeiri hadn’t asked to stay and see it go.
    â€œOne cannot read the young gentleman at the moment,” he said to his aishid. “One is concerned for him.”
    â€œHe is making every effort,” Jago said, “to bear this in a dignified way. He has done very well today.”
    So Jago thought the boy was handling it well enough.
    But making the boy happy to go back to the confines of his life in the capital, making him content, there—
    That was not going to happen.
    Â â€¢Â â€¢Â â€¢Â 
    They reached the platform, they left the bus in silence and crossed to the train. Tano and Algini waited for them at the steps.
    The boy, first inside, with his bodyguard, just settled where he and his guests had sat, in the empty seats, at the now lonely little table. His young aishid stood, uniformly long-faced, in the nook beside him.
    â€œYoung aiji,” Bren said, pausing by the table, “if you should wish to join me at the rear of the car, you would be welcome. One does not insist, however.”
    A muscle jumped in Cajeiri’s jaw, a little effort at self-control. The boy looked up. “I shall prefer to sit here, nandi. Thank you.”
    Fragile. And so wishing not to give way right now. Bren gave a little bow and with a movement of his eyes, advised his valets, who were in charge of service on the train, and poised to offer tea or anything else desired, also to let the boy be. The boy’s own bodyguard would do anything the boy wanted. Cajeiri just asked to be alone, and one had to respect that, in a boy who had, overall, done very, very well and behaved bravely in recent weeks.
    So Bren went back to the bench seat at the rear of the car, with his bodyguard, and with his valets following closely.
    â€œThe household might have tea, nadi,” he told his valet quietly, including Supani and his partner Koharu in the suggestion—and he settled into his place on the corner of the bench seat, where he habitually sat. His bodyguard settled with him, and the train began to roll.
    Quiet again. Devastatingly quiet. No Jase. No kids’ laughter.
    In another half hour he had the word from Tano that the shuttle had started its takeoff.
    Within the hour he had the word that the shuttle had cleared the atmosphere and was in space, safely past the most dangerous part of its return.
    â€œAdvise the young gentleman’s aishid,” Bren said and Tano did that, via Guild communications, just the length of the car.
    The young gentleman settled after that, over against the wall, head down, arms folded, apparently asleep.
    Despite the adrenaline from the launch and the climb to orbit, the youngsters on the shuttle would soon be ready to fall asleep, too,