The penthouse at Hotel Hiro was not neutral ground.
That was the point.
The meeting suite downstairs had been neutral. Sony-Toyota had not hosted Matt, Matt had not hosted Sony-Toyota, and Tokyo government had not put either of them inside a government building.
The penthouse was different.
It was rented in Matthew Johnathan Boone Marmaduke’s name for his use while he was in Tokyo.
Not borrowed.
Not provided as a courtesy.
Not quietly placed at his disposal by somebody who would later describe the favor differently.
For the duration of the reservation, it was his space.
By the time Matt came through the door, that distinction mattered mostly because he could take off the formal outer layer of his navy business kimono, drop into one of the chairs near the windows, and stop performing for anyone outside the room.
T’mari did much the same beside him, retaining enough dignity that Matt briefly resented her for it.
T’monn was already there.
So was L’tani.
L’tani looked from Matt to T’mari.
Then back to Matt.
“You both survived.”
Matt leaned his head back against the chair.
“Barely.”
T’mari said, “He enjoyed himself.”
“That is slander.”
T’monn looked at T’mari.
“Did he?”
“Immensely.”
Matt pointed at both of them.
“I negotiated several potentially enormous industrial arrangements.”
T’monn nodded.
“So yes.”
L’tani laughed.
The suite had become comfortable quickly.
Shoes were gathered near the entrance. Drinks had accumulated on the low table. Somebody had found snacks even though Matt and T’mari had just eaten twice in the last few hours, once at the ramen shop and again through the extended formal meal downstairs.
Beyond the windows, Tokyo filled most of the horizon.
Shibuya Station was close enough that trains could be seen slipping between buildings.
Matt’s phone vibrated on the table.
Nobody reached for it.
It vibrated again.
T’monn looked at it.
“Applications?”
“Probably.”
“How many?”
“I don’t know.”
T’mari looked at him.
“You checked downstairs.”
“That was business.”
“You told me the same thing after lunch.”
“I contain several distinct executive functions.”
L’tani reached for his phone.
Matt slapped his hand over it.
“No.”
“I was going to help.”
“You were going to look.”
“That would help.”
A knock came from the suite entrance.
Matt called, “Come in.”
Andrea Tanaka entered carrying a tablet and wearing the expression of someone who had spent several hours keeping a large number of other people’s choices from becoming emergencies.
She stopped just inside.
Looked at Matt.
Looked at T’mari.
Then at T’monn and L’tani.
“Good. Everyone important is wearing fewer layers.”
Matt pointed toward the open seating area.
“That is why you’re allowed upstairs.”
“I assumed it was because you needed an adult.”
T’monn smiled immediately.
“I like her.”
“I have always liked you,” Andrea said.
Matt frowned.
“This meeting is becoming hostile.”
Andrea removed her shoes, came into the room and sat rather than waiting to be invited into another formal conference.
That alone marked the difference.
No bows beyond what had already happened downstairs.
No carefully timed tea.
No corporate choreography.
She put the tablet on the table.
“Do you want the good news, the annoying news or the news you have personally caused?”
Matt thought about it.
“Are those separate categories?”
“No.”
T’mari laughed.
Andrea looked at her.
“You’re involved now.”
“I suspected.”
Matt reached for a drink.
“Applications.”
“Thirteen hundred eighty-two when I left downstairs.”
Matt stopped.
L’tani leaned forward.
“How many?”
“Thirteen eighty-two.”
T’mari looked at Matt.
“You wanted five hundred.”
“Yes, I am aware of my previous numerical failure.”
T’monn said, “That is not normally called failure.”
“It is when the number makes me look timid.”
Andrea picked up the tablet.
“Your five hundred target lasted about as long as your attempt not to check the counter.”
T’mari smiled.
“I told him.”
“You all seem very pleased with yourselves.”
“We are.”
Andrea continued.
“Applications are still coming in fast enough that the Tokyo team has stopped trying to make any meaningful prediction for tonight. They are sorting, acknowledging receipt, and separating actual candidates from people who apparently believe application forms are an appropriate place to send you marriage proposals.”
Matt closed his eyes.
L’tani brightened.
“How many?”
Andrea looked at her.
“I am not giving you that information.”
“Why?”
“Because you will count them.”
“I am a geneticist.”
“That is not a defense.”
T’monn took a drink.
“How many for T’mari?”
Andrea looked at her.
“No.”
T’mari said, “Thank you.”
Matt opened his eyes.
“How many for me?”
Andrea looked down at the tablet.
“Enough that someone created a separate filter.”
L’tani laughed hard enough to lean into the back of the sofa.
Matt looked offended.
“I held a jobs meeting.”
“You are the High Lord of more than a million V’ren, a billionaire Freeholder, and you spent the morning speaking fluent Japanese in formal kimono while offering people giant houses.”
“One-dollar houses.”
“Not helping.”
T’mari said, “They are rentals.”
Andrea looked at her.
“Also not helping.”
Matt waved toward the tablet.
“What else?”
“The permanent language center has become the second largest source of questions after employment.”
“That’s good.”
“It is.”
“Liaison office?”
“Strong interest. Less frantic because nobody thinks they have to apply today.”
“SDF?”
“Separate, as requested.”
“Good.”
Andrea looked directly at him.
“Sol Defense Fleet.”
Matt frowned.
“Yes.”
“I am saying it because someone downstairs has already had to correct three reporters who decided the letters must stand for something local.”
T’mari said, “Humans enjoy reconstructing abbreviations.”
“They especially enjoy doing it incorrectly.”
Matt nodded toward the tablet again.
“Concert.”
Andrea’s expression changed.
Not alarm.
Calculation.
“The concert is manageable.”
“That sounds ominous.”
“It means manageable.”
L’tani leaned forward.
“How many have been added?”
“To the pages?”
“To the group.”
Andrea consulted the screen.
“The chairman’s two granddaughters and their cousin are already here. We have more young relatives arriving from families represented in Ikejiri. Current confirmed additional arrivals range from twelve to twenty-five.”
T’monn raised an eyebrow.
“How many?”
Andrea gave her the current number.
Matt whistled.
“And government?”
“A few younger relatives from officials. Not official delegates. I have made that distinction repeatedly.”
“Good.”
“They are attending a concert, not a summit.”
T’mari said, “They are also going to talk.”
“I am counting on it.”
L’tani looked delighted.
Andrea pointed at her.
“You are not conducting field research.”
“I wasn’t going to.”
“You looked like you were going to.”
“I look like this normally.”
T’monn said, “That is true.”
Andrea continued.
“Most of the off-duty pages are going with T’mari and L’tani. Security knows the final count may change again. Seating is being adjusted without turning the entire thing into an official block.”
Matt nodded.
“Good.”
“The young people are already mixing.”
“How badly?”
Andrea considered.
“One of your pages is teaching the Sony chairman’s younger granddaughter something that caused both of them to look toward security and laugh.”
Matt smiled.
“That sounds healthy.”
“No.”
“It sounds very healthy.”
“Another group is comparing social accounts.”
“That is inevitable.”
“One government official’s son has discovered that a V’ren page knows more about his favorite band than he does.”
T’mari said, “Excellent.”
Andrea looked at her.
“He has taken this personally.”
“Even better.”
L’tani asked, “Any problems?”
“Nothing serious. Mostly parents asking me questions their children have already answered for themselves.”
Matt nodded.
“Normal.”
“Entirely.”
Andrea set the tablet down.
“That brings us to the news you personally caused.”
Matt looked at T’mari.
T’mari looked at him.
T’monn looked between them.
“What did he do?”
Matt said, “Why do you assume it was me?”
Three women looked at him.
Andrea made four.
Matt sighed.
“Fine.”
Andrea pulled up the reporter clip.
She did not need to play it.
The still image was enough.
Matt at the ramen counter in navy kimono.
T’mari beside him.
A reporter leaning in from a respectful distance.
The caption contained one word in quotation marks.
**TRANSPORTER.**
T’monn read it.
Then looked at Matt.
“What is a transporter?”
T’mari made a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sigh.
Matt said, “A thing which transports.”
T’mari switched to V’ren immediately.
“No.”
Andrea looked between them.
Matt answered in V’ren.
“Yes.”
“You knew what she meant.”
“I knew what the reporter asked.”
“You knew what humans would hear.”
T’monn looked at L’tani.
L’tani shrugged.
“I do not know what humans heard.”
T’mari pointed at Matt.
“He invoked Star Trek.”
Matt looked appalled.
“I did no such thing.”
“You said transporter.”
“A motorcycle transported us.”
Andrea’s head came up.
She looked at Matt.
Then T’mari.
Then back at Matt.
“You answered the Ikejiri question by calling the motorcycle a transporter.”
“Yes.”
Andrea stared at him.
“It transported us.”
“I understand your defense.”
“Then we agree.”
“No, I understand it.”
T’monn began laughing.
L’tani was still trying to catch up.
“What is Star Trek?”
T’mari turned toward her.
“A human fictional universe.”
Matt said, “An inferior human fictional universe.”
T’mari turned slowly back toward him.
Andrea closed her eyes.
T’monn immediately noticed the shift.
“Inferior to what?”
“Star Wars.”
T’mari said, “No.”
Matt sat forward.
“Yes.”
“No.”
“Lightsabers.”
“Transporters.”
“Which are apparently motorcycles.”
Andrea held up one hand.
“I am begging all of you to remember that I have actual work.”
T’monn looked delighted.
“Which one do you prefer?”
Andrea looked at her.
“I am not entering this.”
“Coward.”
“I have survived Tokyo by knowing when neutrality is valuable.”
Matt pointed toward her.
“Smart.”
T’mari said, “She knows I am right.”
Andrea ignored both of them.
“The reporter clip is spreading.”
“How badly?”
“Badly enough that several science reporters have asked whether the V’ren possess matter transportation.”
Matt smiled.
T’mari pointed at him.
“That. That face is why I know you did it deliberately.”
“I gave an accurate answer.”
Andrea said, “A technically defensible answer.”
“Thank you.”
“That was not praise.”
Matt looked around the room.
“Why does everyone keep saying that to me?”
T’monn was still laughing.
Andrea scrolled.
“More interestingly, several engineers have joined the argument.”
T’mari straightened slightly.
“Earth engineers?”
“Yes.”
“What are they saying?”
Andrea read.
“Mostly that the word transporter can describe a vehicle or machine used to transport something, depending on context.”
T’mari looked at Matt.
He smiled.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“No.”
“You have independent engineering confirmation.”
“You deliberately invoked a culturally loaded meaning.”
“That does not invalidate the engineering.”
T’mari reached for her phone.
Andrea watched her.
“What are you doing?”
“I am going to clarify.”
Matt stopped smiling.
Andrea looked at him.
That was enough to make her suspicious too.
“What?”
Matt said, “Nothing.”
T’mari was already typing.
Matt leaned toward her.
“What are you writing?”
She angled the screen away.
“You have no standing.”
“I absolutely have standing.”
“You created the problem.”
“And therefore possess subject-matter expertise.”
T’mari finished typing but did not post.
She read it once.
Then smiled.
Matt became genuinely concerned.
“Read it.”
“No.”
“T’mari.”
She finally turned the screen toward Andrea.
Andrea read it.
Her expression remained professional for about two seconds.
Then she laughed.
Matt reached for the phone.
T’mari pulled it back.
“What does it say?”
Andrea managed to recover.
“She says that after consultation with an Earth engineer, she can confirm that you were in fact transported to Ikejiri.”
T’monn laughed so hard she put her drink down.
L’tani covered her mouth.
Matt stared at T’mari.
“That is worse.”
T’mari looked pleased.
“It is accurate.”
“You learned evil very quickly.”
“I learned from you.”
“You cannot post that.”
T’mari raised an eyebrow.
Matt reconsidered.
“You absolutely should post that.”
Andrea pointed at both of them.
“Not yet.”
T’mari looked at her.
“Why?”
“Because I would like the press office to have approximately twenty minutes to prepare for the consequences.”
“That seems fair.”
Matt nodded.
“Professional courtesy.”
Andrea stared at him.
“You are not allowed to say that phrase today.”
Matt leaned back again.
“What else have I done?”
Andrea looked at the tablet.
“The train.”
T’mari’s amusement softened.
Matt said nothing.
Andrea pulled up a post.
A photograph showed the older man farther down the carriage, rigid medical shoe visible, one hand still near his face.
The blogger had not photographed the two women.
Good.
Andrea said, “Young local blogger recognized you after the intervention. He posted the man, not the women.”
“What did he say?”
“That the man repeatedly followed two young women when they moved away from him, that you stepped between them, and that the man continued trying to get around you.”
Matt nodded.
“No elbow?”
“He says there was ‘contact’ after the man ignored you.”
T’monn looked at Matt.
“Contact.”
T’mari switched to V’ren.
“His face contacted Matt’s elbow.”
Matt said, “Very unfortunately.”
L’tani looked between them.
“You hit him?”
“In the face.”
“Hard?”
Matt thought about it.
“Enough.”
T’mari said, “His eyes watered.”
“No blood.”
“That appears to have been your standard.”
“I was wearing good clothes.”
Andrea looked at him.
Matt smiled slightly.
She shook her head.
“The useful part is that other passengers are confirming the behavior in replies. Several people recognized what you were doing before the contact. Nobody is describing it as an unprovoked assault.”
“Good.”
“The two women?”
“They got off with us at Shibuya.”
“I know. One of them has already posted a brief thank-you without identifying herself as one of the women.”
Matt frowned.
“How?”
“She simply thanked the person who intervened on her train today. No location, no photograph, no name.”
“Fine.”
Andrea looked at him.
“That kind of intervention is not especially exotic here. People step in. Staff get called. Other passengers make space. The notable part is that the person who did it happened to be you.”
“Good.”
T’monn said, “And the elbow?”
Andrea looked at Matt.
“The internet appears to have decided not to examine the geometry too closely.”
Matt nodded solemnly.
“A wise internet.”
“No one has ever said those words before.”
L’tani looked again at the photograph.
“He has an injured foot.”
“Broken toes or something similar,” Matt said.
“And was still following women around a train?”
“Yes.”
L’tani frowned.
“Persistent.”
“That is one word.”
Andrea swiped the post away.
“I do not see a current problem unless someone decides to make one.”
Matt nodded.
“Then don’t make it bigger.”
“I wasn’t planning to.”
She picked up her drink.
T’mari looked around.
“You came here to tell us things are mostly fine.”
“Yes.”
“That is unusual.”
Andrea relaxed farther into the chair.
“The morning meeting exceeded target. The applications are being processed. Nobody has been crushed by a crowd. The permanent Tokyo offices have serious interest. The corporate meeting did not produce screaming.”
The chairman’s son-in-law came briefly to Matt’s mind.
“No screaming.”
“The concert group is growing, but still manageable.”
“Good.”
“The pages are behaving.”
Matt looked suspicious.
Andrea corrected herself.
“The pages are behaving within expected parameters.”
“Better.”
“The younger relatives are behaving within expected parameters.”
T’monn asked, “Which parameters?”
Andrea took a drink.
“The kind where everybody comes home with the same number of limbs.”
L’tani smiled.
“A reasonable standard.”
“And,” Andrea continued, “nobody has accidentally started a diplomatic incident.”
Matt said, “The day is young.”
Andrea pointed at him.
“No.”
He grinned.
She looked at the four of them.
For the first time since entering, she stopped looking like the person responsible for the movement of several dozen people through Tokyo.
Her shoulders came down.
She leaned back.
“This is going better than it has any right to.”
Matt looked toward the windows.
Tokyo stretched below them.
The meeting had ended with six hundred applicants.
Lunch had ended above a thousand.
Somewhere downstairs, children and grandchildren of powerful Japanese corporate families were discovering that V’ren pages were people their own age rather than figures from television.
Sony-Toyota’s chairman was carrying a fusion-industrial proposal back to the group that had greeted Matt in Ikejiri.
AgriSolutions was about to receive a list of Japanese cleanup problems people had stopped believing could be economically solved.
Marmaduke Logistics would get more bids.
The Freehold relocation pipeline might get more people.
And the most important question on the internet was currently whether Matt possessed a transporter.
He looked at Andrea.
“What time do they need to leave for the concert?”
She told them.
T’mari glanced toward L’tani.
“We should begin getting ready.”
L’tani nodded.
T’monn looked at Matt.
“And us?”
Matt picked up his drink.
“We apparently continue being adults.”
T’monn considered that.
“That sounds unpleasant.”
“It often is.”
Andrea’s tablet chimed.
She looked at it.
Then laughed.
“What?”
She turned the screen around.
The application counter had crossed fourteen hundred.
Matt stared at it.
T’mari said nothing.
T’monn said nothing.
L’tani said nothing.
Matt finally sighed.
“Five hundred was a stupid number.”
T’mari smiled.
“Yes.”
He looked at her.
“You have been waiting three hours to say that.”
“In two languages.”
Andrea stood.
“Good. My work here is complete.”
Matt pointed at her.
“You contributed nothing.”
“I kept Tokyo from eating you.”
“That is fair.”
Andrea slipped her shoes back on at the entrance.
Before opening the door, she looked toward T’mari.
“Give me twenty minutes before you post the engineer clarification.”
T’mari nodded.
“Twenty.”
Andrea looked at Matt.
“And you.”
“What?”
“No more transportation technology.”
Matt put a hand over his heart.
“I promise nothing.”
Andrea closed her eyes.
“I knew better than to phrase it that way.”
She opened the door.
Matt called after her.
“Andrea.”
She looked back.
“Thanks.”
The teasing disappeared for a moment.
She nodded.
“You’re welcome.”
Then she was gone.
The door closed.
Silence lasted perhaps three seconds.
T’mari picked up her phone.
Matt looked at her.
“What?”
“Starting the timer.”
“For what?”
She smiled.
“Nineteen minutes and fifty-seven seconds.”
Matt stared at her.
T’monn started laughing again.
