Reclamation (32 page)

Allenden planted both hands on the edge of the board. “We’ve got a spy in the ranks, Cousin Manager.”

“No.”

“What do you mean no!” Allenden reared up like a startled cow. “Look at her!”

“Yes.” Iyal gestured at the screen. “Look at her. Right in front of the security camera. Clear as all outdoors and solid as dirt. You’re telling me a spy, a VITAE spy, is going to tap the secured network from the lab in front of a camera?”

Allenden’s mouth opened and closed three or four times before he finally said, “Then what else could she possibly be?”

“I don’t have any idea.” Iyal hit the HOME key on the chair’s control board at the same time. “But I’m going to go find out.”

“You can’t just …” began Allenden as the chair’s legs telescoped up to their active length.

“I can, and you’ll wait until I have before you say another word to anybody.” The chair rocked forward, picking its quick, mincing steps over the grass. Iyal twisted around to see if Allenden understood. “We need to know what we’re dealing with before we make a fuss.”

Allenden nodded. Iyal took that as a good sign and settled back into her chair again. The sedan carried her down the paths that bisected the beds of medical plants and grains. The lab section had been laid out for efficiency, not aesthetics. Domes of white polymer skins alternated with square, white concrete buildings that sat in the middle of squared-off plots of plain grass. A quarter of an acre of grass had to be reserved for every cubic meter of building so that solar reflection and environmental absorption would balance each other out.

People and drones hustled to and fro down the prescribed paths. One or two raised their hands in greeting, but Iyal only nodded absently in return.

Arla Stone. Arla Stone. Iyal had been all but breathing Arla Stone since Perivar had brought her to the lab. For weeks now, Iyal had wished in vain that she could find whoever had designed the woman’s ancestors so she could shake their hands, and then pick their brains, even if they were the Vitae.

She’d told Perivar that Arla was a walking work of art, but now Iyal was ready to revise that interpretation. The woman was nothing short of a miracle.

Iyal was used to the idea of genetic engineering. Every piece of flora and fauna on Kethran had been built to fit into the tailored biosphere. Her own work carried on the family profession and she was proud to do it. But there wasn’t a soul alive on Kethran, or anywhere else she knew of, that could design a DNA string that contained nothing but the bare essentials organized to express themselves in a totally predictable fashion in a human being. In a strain of yeast or algae, maybe. But not a human being. She had learned more about neurochemical regulators in the three weeks she’d known Arla than she had in ten years of active study.

But not everything about Arla made sense. Who would design an organism that did not have enough room left over in its DNA to allow for adaptation or compensation for changes in environment? The rate of birth defects would be astronomical. Arla was perfect, but if one or two of her perfect traits hadn’t expressed themselves because of environment, she could have been in trouble. Iyal was surprised Arla had even managed four living kids out of a total of seven births. If you wanted to keep her branch of humanity alive, you’d have to do an incredible amount of outbreeding, which would negate all that careful engineering, or you’d have to be able to check each fetus to make sure conception had worked, and then you’d have to monitor each child to make sure they grew up all right, and tinker with them all as necessary to keep weaknesses from creeping in.

No. It made no sense. A group like that would require more maintenance than … Kethran Colony.

The comm screen still showed Arla hunched over Allenden’s table, reading the documents flowing past. Nothing in those short, perfect strings she carried around inside her explained this. Nothing at all. Not even the incredible organization inside her skull.

Iyal’s translator disk beeped and she winced.

“Cousin Manager Zur-Iyal
ki
Maliad,” said Director
ki
Sholmat’s voice, “I require your attendance at my office immediately.”

Iyal felt her forehead wrinkle. The Director hadn’t chosen to acknowledge their First Family connection since Iyal’d deigned to marry a third wave colonist.

She touched the TRANSMIT key on her torque and whispered, “With respect, Cousin Director, I have an emergency in the lab.” Arla had moved on to a new set of documents. These had the lab’s privacy logo on them.

“Delegate it,” said the Director. “I have an Ambassador from the Rhudolant Vitae sitting in front of me. The Vitae want to talk to you about some property of theirs they say the lab has wrongfully appropriated.”

Iyal’s eyes bulged in their sockets as she tried to keep from gagging audibly. Under her gaze, Arla went on reading, completely undisturbed.

“Cousin Manager?”

“I’ll be there in five minutes, Cousin Director.” Iyal shut the connection down.

Iyal ground her teeth together and, at last, touched her torque and whispered Allenden’s name.

“Zur-Allenden,” she said. “This is Zur-Iyal. There’s trouble. I need you to get Arla out of the lab. Send her to sweep the attic, anything, just keep her out of the way of the management halls for at least the next hour.”

“But …” came Allenden’s hesitant voice.

“The Vitae are sitting in the Director’s office,” she said. “Get Arla out of sight.”

“Done and done.” Her translation disk buzzed as he closed the connection.

The sedan halted in front of the double doors labeled CENTRAL RESEARCH FACILITIES BLOCKS 6—12. AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY and froze its legs, settling toward the ground so she could climb out. Iyal cut the comm board off and shut the chair’s power off.

She rubbed her temple as she pushed through the facility doors and walked down the bare, tiled corridors. Her gaze strayed to the portrait of Killian that she wore on her wrist. He was off-shift tonight. She could put in a real-time call. It’d be good to talk to him. It’d help sort out the jumble of problems swirling around inside her mind.

Director Zur-Kohlbyr
ki
Sholmat’s office was a three-room suite at the east end of the building. Kohlbyr was an entrepreneur, an aspiring politician, and the oldest child of the first of the First Families. As a result, he knew all about the importance of appearances and he used all that he knew when creating his workspace.

Iyal entered the waiting room, a comfortable lounge that had been partitioned off to accommodate both Human and Shessel visitors. It gave the impression that the Director was an open-minded man.

The door to the meeting room stood open. Iyal stepped in. It was a greenhouse-style room with transparent silicate walls that let in the view of the medical compound and the clean fields. The ceiling was also transparent, so she could see the clouds building up for the weekly heavy rain that this longitude required to keep the vegetation healthy.

At the moment, the room was furnished with clusters of small tables and padded chairs. It was a casual atmosphere where people could meet, drink, circulate, and chat. Director
ki
Sholmat sat at the table in the sunniest corner, sipping something gold out of a long-stemmed glass. Next to him, a Vitae Ambassador sat like a statue carved of ruby and marble.

Iyal clenched her teeth and forced her mouth to smile.

“Zur-Iyal
ki
Maliad.” Zur-Kohlbyr bowed his head but did not stand. “Sit and know yourself welcome, Cousin.” Iyal’s stomach turned over at the hypocrisy but she drew back a chair and sat, ankles properly crossed and hands neatly folded on the table. If she was going to be treated as a dignitary, she would put on the show, even if her coverall was dirt-spattered and she smelled strongly of cattle.

“This is Ambassador Basq from the Vitae ship
Grand Errand.”

“Ambassador.” Iyal briefly touched her fingertips to her forehead to salute him. At least she assumed the person under the draping of cloth was a him. The only feature he had to distinguish him from any of the other Vitae she’d seen was a blister over his right eye.

Zur-Kohlbyr took another sip out of his glass. “The Ambassador came to me asking about the location of the Subcontractor Arla Stone. I informed him we would have to consult you, since you were funding her contract out of your own accounts.”

And you didn’t bother to tell him that the lab’s refunding me for it.

“Zur-Iyal,” said Ambassador Basq in the smooth, even voice that the Vitae seemed to be born with. “If you’ll permit, I would like to clarify the origin of the individual you call Subcontractor Arla Stone.”

Iyal raised her eyebrows to indicate gentle inquiry and managed not to let her hands twitch, even though her nails were ready to dig into her own skin.

“You have heard our announcement of the Vitae claim of the world MG49 sub 1?”

Iyal inclined her head. “The city council held several public briefings on it. Being under Vitae management, we are most interested in the shifts in status of your people.” Her high-formal grammar was rusty. She didn’t go home much and she never went to First Family celebrations. She hoped the translator disks were compensating.

“Then you know that the Kethran Diet and Executors have already agreed to honor our claim to the planet.”

Iyal nodded again. She’d paid very close attention to both the video clip and the vote that had followed its screening, and had sworn profusely at the result.

The Vitae’s little blip didn’t tell us anything! How could we make that kind of decision without taking a look at the place?

Who’s we, Iyal?
Killian had asked quietly.
Your opinion’s not on the register.

In case you’ve forgotten, I gave up my vote when I married you.
She’d said it sourly and regretted it immediately. But it was Kethran law. You couldn’t marry up, you could only marry down. She could have kept her vote only by making a partnership bond with a member of another First Family, or a selected Parent World family who wanted to emigrate. Killian’s name didn’t appear in any of the proper files.

Your vote, yes, but I hadn’t noticed you’d lost your voice.
The cool exchange was the closest they’d ever come to an actual fight.

“I now make confession, Zur-Iyal,” said Basq. “And I trust to the discretion of yourself and your Cousin Director. While we were deciding whether to press our claim, MG49 sub 1 was raided by contraband runners. Arla Stone was one of the things taken from us.

“It is not an independent human being, Zur-Iyal. It is a genetically engineered artifact and the Kethran Diet has acknowledged that it is Vitae property.” He paused as if to let his statement sink in. “Of course, you could have no way of knowing this. I’m sure you picked up its contract in good faith and had no idea you were hiring contraband.”

Of course not.
Iyal shook her head.
That would be illegal by Kethran law. Vitae-enforced Kethran law.

Zur-Kohlbyr set his glass on the table with a click. “I informed the Ambassador that since the subcontract was legal and since no accusations of contraband running had yet been filed, you were the one who would have to release Arla Stone to Vitae custody.” He gave her a look that tried to rivet her to the back wall. “Formalities need to be observed, particularly in times of flux.”

“Particularly in times of flux.” Iyal shoved tones of agreement into her voice. Inside she wondered,
what are you trying to tell me, Zur-Kohlbyr?

“A state of affairs the Vitae appreciate, I can assure you,” said Basq. “I trust, however, Zur-Iyal, that you will not be hesitant to expedite matters as much as possible.”

The image of Arla at the research table flashed in front of Iyal’s inner vision.

“Naturally,” she answered, attempting to match Basq’s fluidity of speech. “So, as soon as you, Ambassador, submit documentation supporting your claims to my office, I’ll recall Arla Stone from field assignment and nullify her contract before witnesses.” Her stomach tightened as Zur-Kohlbyr smiled.

No, I haven’t forgotten any of the legalities, Cousin Director. Now why are you so glad about that?

“I wish to be perfectly clear and candid about the Vitae position at this time, Zur-Iyal,” said Basq. He leaned forward a very little, but even that much body language surprised Iyal. The Vitae usually moved like freeze-frame videos. One sharp, separated motion at a time. “When we have the artifact in our possession, we are leaving Kethran Colony. The reclamation of MG49 sub 1 will be absorbing all our resources. We will be forgiving all debts and contracts that tie Kethran to the Vitae.”

Iyal’s breath caught in her throat.
Leaving? We hand you Arla and you’re away from here?

“We will, of course, be leaving all our hardware behind in payment for unfulfilled obligations on our side. We will also provide training manuals and AI software guides for the continued health and management of your colony, which has been our good client for over a decade.”

We’ll be rid of you? For good and all?

“My failure to reclaim the artifact will delay this operation,” added Basq.

“However, as I said, Ambassador, formalities must be observed,” cut in Zur-Kohlbyr. “Zur-Iyal will require supporting documentation before the contract is nullified.”

Basq was silent for a long moment. “She’ll have it,” he said at last. “I’ll contact your administrative assistant, Zur-Iyal, if I may, for the details regarding the extent of the documentation you will need and all the points it will have to cover.”

“Certainly,” said Iyal.

Basq rose and saluted her stiffly. “You’ll have what you require before tomorrow morning. Perhaps you should recall the artifact today?”

“When I have your documentation, Ambassador, I’ll proceed.” Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Kohlbyr nod once. Again, he approved of her move. What was going on? His master-in-council had voted against the Vitae takeover, and here she was thwarting their removal with bureaucratic formalities and he was happy about it.

“Very well.” Basq saluted the Director. “We will continue this conversation tomorrow then.”