Cherryh, C J - Alliance-Union 08 (73 page)

Sam also was in love with her, sort of, Sam always had been, like he wanted really truly to be a special friend, but she never let him, because she just didn't feel that close to Sam from her side; and it made her mad when she saw how he took Maddy seriously and worried about it, like he knew he wasn't really part of the House, and he lived down next to the Town. Maddy was rich and that wasn't ever going to come to anything, no more than Sam with her.

She had all this figured out, in a years-away mode, that none of them were really serious yet, but Sam was born serious, and Maddy was
on
ever since she learned there was a difference in boys and girls.

She
knew. You didn't breed guppies and study horses without figuring out how
that
worked, and why all of a sudden boys and girls were getting around to teasing each other.

She wasn't terribly interested. She resented the whole process. It made everybody act stupid, and it was a complication when you were trying to set things up with people.

Then she saw Maddy fake a trip when they were going out and nudge Florian with her hip.

You didn't push Florian: people bumping him scared him. But he recovered fast and put his arm out and she grabbed it, lucky she hadn't landed against the wall, because Florian had learned in Novgorod not to react too suddenly when they were in crowds.

Maddy managed to put her hands on his shoulders and laugh and pretend to catch her balance before she got out the door.

What Maddy didn't see was the funny look Florian gave her retreating back.

But Ari did. He was still wearing it when he looked back at her, like he thought he had just been Got in some vague way and wasn't sure whether he had reacted right or not.

She didn't help him out either. And she doubted Catlin understood.

It was a long time since Justin had come into Denys Nye's office. The last visit came back all too strongly: the heavy-set man at the desk, every detail of the room.

Giraud Nye's brother. One never forgot that either.

"Yanni said," Justin began, at the door, "you were willing to talk with me."

"Certainly. Sit down."

He came and sat down, and Denys leaned forward, hands on the desk. There was a dish of pastilles. Denys took one, offered the dish across the desk.

"No, ser, thank you."

Denys popped one in his mouth, leaned back with a creak of the chair, and folded his hands on his stomach. "Yanni sent me your work. He says you want to go Test. You're pretty confident about this one, are you?"

"Yes, ser. I am. It's a simple program. Nothing at all fancy. I don't think it'll have to run long."

"I don't think it's a problem that the Test Division can show us much about. Jordan says it'll run, it'll run without a glitch. The trouble with your work, after all,
isn't
what it does in generation one or even two. If it were, we—wouldn't have a problem with it, would we? We could just install and go."

Grant had arguments for the run too, azi-view.
Grant
understood how the Testers worked: Grant could do what the Testers did. But it was the last place he was going to say anything on that score, not if it cost him his chance, not if it was the one and only chance he would ever have.

Nothing—was worth Grant's safety.

"I value the Testers' opinion," he said quietly. "And their experience. They have a viewpoint the computers can't give me; that's why we go to them last, isn't it?"

"That's why their time is more valuable. But they still can't answer the multi-generational problem."

"I don't know, ser, I have a great deal of confidence in their emotional judgment. And the run would give me a lot if it could turn up anything,
any
sort of input. Jordan is saying it should run. He isn't saying that just because he's my father, ser. Not to me. Not on something that important."

Denys gave a slight, sad smile, and sighed. The chair creaked as he leaned forward and leaned his elbows on the table. And pushed a button. The bone-deep hum of the Silencer enveloped them, afflicting the nerves and unsettling the stomach. "But the problem is beyond a twenty-year study even if we gave you a full run with a geneset. That's the crux of it. Ultimately, proving whether you're right or wrong would take a Gehenna-style run. Twenty
generations,
not twenty years. We're just damn shy of planets to hand you. And what do we do with the culture that turns out if you're wrong? Nuke it? That's the scale you work on, son."

He heard
no
coming, in a slow, sarcastic way, and bit his lip and controlled his temper. "Kind of like Emory," he said, bitterly. Ultimate hubris, in Reseune. And almost said:
if your committee had had to vet her projects we'd still be a damn production farm.

But then he was in no wise sure what Emory had done twenty or thirty generations down, or how far, or whether Union itself worked, Denys' Gehenna-reference chilled him.

"Kind of like Emory," Denys said slowly, without inflection. "I'll tell you, Sociology has been mightily upset with your designs—the suggestion that they might have turned up a flaw in the projection programs, you know. You've given the programmers over there some sleepless nights. And quite honestly, we haven't spilled the fact to Defense. You know how excited they get."

"I've never thought of going to them."

"Never?"

"No, ser. I don't see any percentage in doing it. Reseune—has its advantages. More than Planys does."

"Even if Defense might promise you residency with Jordan."

He took a breath and felt the unease of the Silencer to the roots of his teeth. It was hard to ignore. "I
have
thought of that. I hope to get him back here, ser, not—not put both of us there. He understands. He hopes for the same thing. Someday. Or we could have leaked this to Defense. Neither of us has."

"Jordan never has
liked
Defense," Denys said. "They certainly didn't help him at his hearing."

"You've counted on that," Justin said quietly. "He could have talked to them. He didn't. Not that I ever know of."

"No, you're quite right. He doesn't trust them. But mostly the consideration of your career. And Grant's. Let's be frank. We know—how far he could push us... and why he won't. Let me go on being honest with you. He has every motive to lie to us and to you: to convince us you're valuable in your own right, to make sure you're protected—if he gets careless. You're very naive if you think he wouldn't do that."

He ignored the body blows and kept his face unmoved. "He values Grant too," he said. "And I do. You always have a hostage. All you have to do is keep him untouched."

"Of course. That's why Grant doesn't travel."

"But once—alone—even for a few hours—that trip would be worth it to Grant. And to my father. What's a hostage worth, if the one you're holding him against—forgets his value?"

Denys gave a heavy sigh. "Son, I don't enjoy this situation; and I had far rather have peace with the Warrick clan, God knows how, without making a slip that gets someone hurt. I'm being utterly honest with you, I'm telling you my worries in the matter. I still believe in you enough to have you in on the Project on Yanni's say-so. We're solvent again, but we're sure as hell not taking chances or spending wildly, and you're asking for a major amount of effort here, on something that's already been a headache to Sociology—"

"You say yourself, if those projections are wrong, if Sociology is working on flaws, then Defense ought to be interested. I'd call that a major matter, ser, I don't know what more it takes to qualify."

Denys frowned. "I was about to say, young friend, —'but, over all, a benefit.' All right, you get your test subject. Six-month run."

"Thank you, ser." Justin drew a whole breath. "I appreciate your honesty."
Like hell.
"And I hope—from my side—you understand the meeting yesterday—"

"Absolutely," Denys said. "I do. I appreciate the call. Ari has lunch in there now and again. You can't stay in hiding. You handled it exactly right."

"I told her Ari was my instructor. Since she asked about my knowing her. I figured—I'd better say how I knew her—early."

"That falls in an area she can't research. But yes, I see your reasoning. I have no objection to it. Sometimes you have to make fast assessments with her—God knows. You should
live
with her." Denys chuckled, and leaned back again. "She's a challenge. I know that, believe me."

"I—" God, it was an opening. It was lying in front of him. "The other thing I wanted to talk with you about: the Rubin sets, ser, I wish—wish you'd take a look at that, yourself; and my arguments. Working with Ari, the way you do, —I thought you—could give me a viewpoint—I don't have."

"On the Rubin case? Or regarding Ari?"

"I—see one bearing on the other. Somewhat. Ser."

Denys rocked his chair back and forth and lifted his brows. "Yanni told me."

"I just wonder if you'd take a look at the latest paper."

"I
have
looked at it. Yanni sent it over. I'll tell you, a lot you're doing is quite, quite good. I'm aware of your personal profile. I know what a strain it is for you to work real-time, or anything close to it, and I appreciate the stress you've undertaken—for that boy on Fargone. I know it's hard for Morley to appreciate how much pressure you're under . . . your tendency to internalize these cases. Damn bad thing for a clinical psychologist. About Ari, let me tell you, of
course
the cases are linked and of
course
your worry for the Rubin boy is going to spill over in worry about Ari, your personal mindset guarantees it. —But we
can't
hand you the whole of both projects, you do understand that, Justin, no more than we can find you a planet to test with."

"I just—" He had had enough people calling him a fool in his life he should be less sensitive; but Denys didn't bludgeon, Denys was stinging and unexpected as a paper-cut. "—just hoped—if you had time, ser, you might want to consider contingencies."

Riposte to Denys.

Denys rocked forward again, leaned on the desk. "We're working an emergency course change with the Rubin baby. You're giving us a useful perspective on the Rubin case, because we
have
a problem, but we sure as hell aren't in that situation with Ari—"

"Rubin
worked till the thing blew up, forgive me if I misunderstand, but the matter went deeper than Jenna Schwartz and Stella Rubin—"

"Let me tell you, Justin, I
do
worry about someone who's so sure he's right he can't conceive of being wrong. I know Yanni's talked to you about that problem."

"I'll send you my project papers. I'll pay for them. Enough for your damn committee. Point of information—is that interference?"
He drew a breath. "I happen to think it's
sane
to consider related data in a case where a committee is running an untested program. I'm not asking you for data; I'm not asking you even for data on the Rubin case that I damn well need to work with, because I know I haven't got a chance in hell of getting it. But I can hand it to you, at my own expense, since Reseune can't afford the faxes, in the theory you ought to have it available. I don't call that interference. Shred it if you like. But at least I'll have tried!"

Denys rubbed his lip, and picked up another pastille. Popped it into his mouth. "Damn, you're persistent."

"Yes, ser."

Denys looked at him a very long time. "Tell me. Does your own experience—as Jordan's replicate—bear on your confidence that you understand the Project?"

The question he had not wanted asked. Ever. His heart hit bottom. I don't know. Everything bears on my ideas. How can I sort it out?"

"It's interesting to me. You were never aware of yourself as a replicate—until you were—how old?"

"Six. Seven. Something like. I don't remember."

"Always in Jordan's shadow. Always willing to take Jordan's opinion over your own. I think there is something in you . . . possibly a very important something. But sometimes I see other things: Jordan's stubbornness; his tendency to be
right
beyond all reason." Denys shook his head and sighed. "You have a hell of a way of applying for finance. Attack the people who can give it to you. Just exactly like Jordan."

"If politics matters more than what is, —"

"Damn, more and more like your father."

Justin shoved the chair back and got up to leave. Fast. Before he lost his temper altogether. "Excuse me, then."

"Justin, Justin, —remember? Remember who
funded
your research time? That was out of
my
budget, at a time we could hardly afford it. I take everything you've said as an honest intent to help. I assure you. I have your report; I'll have my secretary fax it for the committee. And any other material you want to send."

He was left, on his feet, with the anger still running through him. It made a tremor in his muscles. He jammed his hands in his pockets to hide their shaking. "Then thank you, ser. What about my Test request?"

"God," Denys sighed. "Yes, son. You have it. No change in that. Just—do us all a favor.
Don't
intrude any further into the Project. Keep on being prudent as you have been. Ari's handling everything very well. She's accepted being Ari's replicate, taken everything in stride. But she likes you. And she doesn't know how her predecessor died. Her timeframe on Ari is constantly lagged. The Ari she knows is five going on six, and beyond that, she's seen only a few pictures. Remember that."

"When
will
she know?"

"I'm not sure," Denys said. "I tell you that honestly. We make decisions real-time on this side of the Project; there's no way for me to answer that question. But believe me—I will warn you, when it becomes—immediate. That's one of the things we worry about as much as you do."

It was
shots
again. Ari winced as the hypo popped against her arm, not one hypo, but three, besides the blood tests she had had every few days of her life.

Nothing wrong with you,
Dr. Ivanov had told her repeatedly.
We just do this.