Things Fall Apart: Chapter 51

Newer York, 7 Tammuz 2541 AS

The rest of dinner was not nearly so fraught with personal revelations. The fact that there were no fewer than four trained diplomats at the table, combined with the collective good will of the entire group, served to move the conversation out of what would otherwise have been an awkward cul-de-sac.

As equilibrium was restored, Elaine looked at Cadotte and asked, "So, Wayra—it is Wayra, yes? Wayra, do you have any unexpected connections you'd like to share with us?"

Cadotte allowed themselves a grin, to show they had caught the ball in the spirit in which it had been thrown. "I really don't! I'm starting to feel a little left out, honestly. I'm sure if I dig in my family's genealogy far enough, I can find a few lingering connections to people here in the DSR, but my family tracks back to the Ross 508 expedition out of Tau Ceti, so our tracks back to here are pretty faded by now."

Singer considered not joining this part of the conversation at all, but recognized she was in danger of falling into a bit of a seethe. She was seriously irked at her executive officer, right now. Several things were contributing to keep Singer afloat, however.

For one thing, Robina Thirteen was now nearly glowing with relief, and even without being able to read it with her abilities, Singer would have found it hard not to empathize.

For another, she had been extremely well fed, and those basic human-as-animal signals between brain and body told her that she was safe, warm, and in the company of trustworthy fellow travelers. Consciously, she recognized that several of those human beings were politicians, so "trustworthy" was relative, but none of them had stabbed her in the back today, nor looked to be sharpening a knife for her right now. She'd take it.

This dinner had been, in fact, one of the few moments Singer had since the Incident where she felt like she could genuinely relax. Then had come the realization about the relationship between Robina and Alexander. That surprise, and her dislike of surprises, had knocked her sideways again.

Nobody here in the room deserved her disgruntlement, however.

So Singer said, "I'm in the same boat, really. All the connections I know of are second-hand. I've done my genealogy and somehow, nearly everyone in it traces back to the original settlement of Cherryh's World, twenty-two gigaseconds ago. I've got an ancestor who was one of the engineers responsible for building Tau Ceti Anchorage, and a handful of others in various pre-Fleet space services within the system, but most of them were born and lived their whole lives on the dirt."

Gary asked, "That's pretty rare, isn't it? I mean, Cherryh's a fully habitable world. Doesn't it get a fair amount of immigration?"

Singer nodded and said, "It does, at least in comparison to other systems. But...well, now that we're talking about it, and I'm thinking about it in context, I think it's a lot like how Newer York has this outsize influence despite not having much of a fleet. There's really so little movement of people who aren't taking active part in a colony expedition that 'more' is still not 'a lot'. Many of us who join Fleet do it because there aren't really a lot of other ways to indulge wanderlust or curiosity about other places...."

That was the moment Singer had her second surprise of the night, and found herself breaking off and saying, "Shit."

Now she had the whole table's attention, but it took her a moment to unfreeze her tongue. For no reason she could explain, she found herself looking at O'Halloran as she said, "I think I just stumbled on 'motive'."

The younger woman gasped, her eyes widening as she caught Singer's drift. Singer could feel the same thought percolating around the table, until Ellison broke in, saying, "And I think we're now veering too close to 'work'."

Singer almost protested. Instead, she stopped, took a deep breath, and nodded. "Yes. I'm sorry, everyone. Looks like tonight's my night for stepping on sticky things."

Ariel looked at her sternly. "Elyah, with everything you've been through over the last few months, the fact that you can hold a coherent conversation about anything else at all is a triumph. I appreciate your apology, but I think I can speak for everyone here when I say it's really not necessary. I'm also willing to bend the rules just enough to say I think you're on to something. But I encourage you to put a pin in it, and come back to it tomorrow evening. If it's valid, it will still be valid after you've given yourself time to rest. That's the real purpose of all this. You may have noticed we're not particularly religious in this household. No candles, no prayers. Just people taking a deep breath together, sharing a meal. There's simply no substitute for rest."

For the first time in ages, Singer found herself thinking of her own mother, and allowed herself a sheepish smile and gave her best impression of an erring teenager. "Yes, ma'am."

Ariel nodded authoritatively and let Singer's gaze go. "Now, do you have a plan for how you're going to spend the rest of your day?"

Singer took a moment to remember that the "day" here started in the evening, and that it had already been "tomorrow" when dinner began. Either way, she realized she hadn't really come up with any plans, and looked at Ellison, who admitted, "I didn't have much of an agenda, honestly. I think we'll do breakfast maybe a little later than usual, given how late it's getting. If you're looking for a suggestion, though, there's the Starfall Museum, which is open with reduced staff on Shabbat, and is surrounded by a formal Botanical Garden as well."

Espinoza was nodding his head vigorously at the suggestion. "I should have thought of it, myself. I haven't been to the museum since I was a kid, but it's pretty great, and the gardens are a sight to see, even compared to all the greenery you've already seen around."

Next to her, Robina stirred. "I expect the exhibit on the Rebellion is still horribly biased." There was a complex tone to the statement—and it was a statement, not a question, to Singer's ear. There was humor, resignation, and maybe a little bit of resentment.

For Ariel, however, this was an old argument apparently. "Excuse me, Madame President, but I've been to the Richard and Anna Museum, which is not exactly a pinnacle of objectivity."

Robina puffed herself up a bit, now clearly not serious as she said, "Of course not. It doesn't have to be objective. Just correct!"

That brought laughter, but Singer's sense definitely parsed the mood as still being complex, without really being able to isolate all the elements. She was reminded of a time she had sampled a really expensive wine. Not really having a refined palate, she could taste the complexity of what was on her tongue, but she couldn't have put words to it.

Cadotte changed the subject, whether deliberately or not, asking, "So, how does that work, exactly? I mean, everyone's supposed to have today off, right?"

"Yes," Ariel answered, "but obviously, you can't run a space station—or a generation ship—that way. About one-fifth of the station basically has a shifted week, and their day is tomorrow. With a few exceptions for truly vital station services where nobody's volunteered, it's entirely opt-in, with a strong encouragement that entire mishpachot volunteer together for the alternate schedule, since part of the point is to get a day with one's household, especially if there are children. During the journey, it really was essential services only, but as we settled into being a city, it broadened, bit by bit. It's possible to find all kinds of things open on reduced staff today, or open today but closed tomorrow. When the rings got built out, there was talk of having a different Shabbat for each ring and one for people who still lived in the core, but that just felt too unwieldy."

"Won't that just make a place like the museum more crowded or something? Lots of people with the day off, reduced staff...the math doesn't math!"

"Sure, except that a lot of people take their Shabbat more seriously than we do. There is still a more religious core to the population here, although it's smaller than it was when we first started out. They tend to stay close to home on Shabbat, except to go to shul."

Cadotte nodded. "OK, that makes sense."

The conversation moved on from there, but Singer was only paying partial attention. Her mind was wandering, first to the appreciation of a culture that valued rest so strongly, and then to her own family. She'd been trying hard not to think too much about them, and when she did, she clung to the idea that, living as they did on a fully habitable dirtworld with relatively little need for AI-run facilities, they should be fine.

But fusion-based power plants would have been operated in conjunction with AI. And affected ships back in Gliese 581 had shown a willingness to turn kamikaze. Even a relatively small ship could cause a big hole in a city if it wanted to.

Ellison noticed Singer drifting—or maybe noticed the direction of that drift, if Singer's suspicions that Ellison shared her gift were true—and said, "I hate to be the one to say it, but I think it's getting late for some of us."

Singer looked at the clock, and saw that by local time, it was actually far later than she'd expected. They'd arrived around 1900, and it was now almost 2300. Nevertheless, she was about to protest, when her body betrayed her with a jaw-cracking yawn. Finally, she said, a little sheepishly, "You may have a point."

Everyone stood, then, with various degrees of reluctance or simple sluggishness due to having sat so long and so comfortably. The goodbyes were informal, prolonged only slightly by Espinoza making a point of hugging everyone in his mother's mishpachah.

Robina and Seth walked with them and rode with them up the spoke to the core, alternating between companionable silence and small talk. Finally, they parted at the station—Robina and Seth would be taking the tram forward to stay in rooms near to the Administration Building. Before they did, Robina said to Singer, "Commander...thank you. I saw that you were not well pleased by the surprise of it all, but please don't be too harsh on Robin for it."

Singer wasn't sure what to make of having been so transparent, but responded, "You're welcome. And...Robin is my friend, as well as my exec. I need to hear what ze has to say. One thing I realized during dinner is that I've been...avoiding thinking about my own family. Ze may have been doing the same. But...ze also knows I don't like surprises."

It was Cadotte who broke in, here, surprising Singer a little bit. "Which means ze wouldn't deliberately surprise you."

Singer took a deep breath. "Point taken." She turned back to Robina. Now that she knew the association, she wondered how she'd missed it. Even with the designs on her face, the bright hair styled so differently from Alexander's, the resemblance seemed obvious. Feeling a need to reassure the other woman more fully, she said again, "Robin is my friend. I will hear zir out, I promise." Then, Singer smiled, just a little wickedly, "But I'm still going to make zir lead the tour."

Robina smiled back, "That seems proper."

Singer looked sidelong at Cadotte and Espinoza, but they were both nodding agreement, and Espinoza said aloud, "Seems fair to me!"

Finally arriving back at her room at the embassy, Singer considered going directly to bed. Certainly, she was tired enough. Some itch, however, made her sit down at the desk—with, admittedly, a very tired flump into the chair—and open her mail queue.

Alexander's apology was at the top.

Mollified enough to sleep without chewing on it, Singer stumbled to the head, made her ablutions, shed her uniform, and fell into bed.

When she dreamed, she dreamed of home.