Cherryh, C J - Alliance-Union 08 (87 page)

"Khalid is assuming office this afternoon," Denys said. "Naturally—since he's Cyteen based, there's no such thing as a grace period. He moves in with all his baggage. And his secret files."

Uncle Denys had already explained to her—what Khalid was. What the situation could be.

"Don't you think I'd better have vid access?" she asked. "Uncle Denys, I don't care
what
you think I'm not ready to find out. Ignorant is no help at all, is it?"

Uncle Denys rested his chins on his hand and looked at her a long time as if he was considering that. "Eventually. Eventually you'll have to. You're going to get a current events condensation, daily, the same as I get. You'd better keep up with it. It looks very much as if we're going to get a challenge before this session is out. They'll probably release some things on your predecessor—as damaging as they can find. This is going to be dirty politics, Ari. Real dirty. I want you to start studying up on things. Additionally—I want you to be damned careful. I know you've been doing a lot of—" He gave a little cough. "—entertaining. Of kids none of whom is over fifteen, at hours that tell me you're
not
playing Starchase. Housekeeping says my suspicions are—" Another clearing of the throat. "—probably well-founded."

"God. You're stooping, uncle Denys."

"Security investigates all sources. And my clearance still outranks yours. But let's not quibble. That's not my point. My point is—
ordinary
fourteen-and fifteen-year-olds don't have your—independence, your maturity, or your budget; and Novgorod in particular isn't going to understand your—mmmn, parties, your language—in short, we're all being very circumspect. You know that word?"

"I'm up on
circumspect,
uncle Denys, right along with
security risk.
I don't have any. If their mothers know, they're not going to object, because they want their offspring to have careers when
I'm
running Reseune. There are probably a lot of mothers who'd like to shove their kids right
into
my apartment. And my bed."

"God.
Don't
say that in Novgorod."

"Am I going?"

"Not right now. Not anytime soon. Khalid is just in. Let him make a move."

"Oh, that's a
wonderful
idea."

"Don't get smart, sera. Let him draw the line, I say. While you, young sera, do some catch-up studying. You'd better learn what an average fourteen-year-old is like."

"I know. I know real well. I might know better, if my friends hadn't Disappeared to Fargone, mightn't I?"

"Don't do this for the cameras. You think you're playing a game. I'm telling you you can really lose everything. I've explained nationalization—"

"I do fine with big words."

"Let's see how you do with little ones. You're not sweet little Ari for the cameras anymore, you're more and more like the Ari certain people remember—enough to make it a lot more likely you'll get harder and harder questions, and you don't know where the mines are, young sera. We're going to stall this as long as we can, and if we can get you another year, it's very likely you'll have to apply for your majority status. That's the point at which some interest will get an injunction to stop the Science Bureau granting it; and you'll be in court again . . . with a good chance of winning it: the first Ari did at sixteen. But that
won't
solve the problem, it'll only put the opposition in a bad light, taking on a fifteen-year-old who
has
to handle herself with more finesse than you presently have, young sera."

"I learn."

"You'd better. Age is catching up with us. Your predecessor's friend Catherine Lao, who's helped you more than you know—is a hundred thirty-eight. Giraud is pushing a hundred thirty. Your presence—your
resemblance
to your predecessor—is like a shot of adrenaline where certain Councillors are concerned, but you have to have more than presence this time. If you make a mistake—you can see Reseune sucked up by the national government, and Defense declaring it a military zone, right fast. They'll have a pretext before the ink is dry. You'll spend your days working on whatever they tell you to do. Or you'll find yourself in some little enclave with no access to Novgorod, no access to Council or the Science Bureau."

She looked at Denys straight on, thinking:
You haven't done that well. Or how else are we in this mess?

But she didn't say it. She said: "Base One only lets me go so fast, uncle Denys."

"Let me try you on another big word," Denys said. "Psychogenesis." That
was
a new one. "Mind-originate," she said, remembering her Greek roots.

"Mind-origination. Mind-cloning. Now do you understand me?"

She felt cold inside. "What has that got to do with anything?"

"The resemblance between you and Ari. Let me give you a few more words to try on your Base. Bok. Endocrinology. Gehenna. Worm."

"What are you talking about?
What do you mean, the resemblance—"

The sound-shielding hurt her teeth.

"Don't shout," Denys said. "You'll deafen us. I mean just what I've always told you. You
are
Ari. Let me tell you something else. Ari didn't die of natural causes. She was murdered."

She took in a breath. "By who?"

"Whom, dear."

"Dammit, uncle Denys—"

"Watch
your language. You'd better clean it up. Ari was killed by someone no longer at Reseune."

"She died
here?"

"That's all I'm going to tell you. The rest is your problem."

AE2: Minder, this is Ari Emory. I'm alone. Give me references on psychogenesis.

B/1: Stand by. Retrieving.

Ari, this is Ari senior. Stand by.

The program finds you are 14 chronological years, with accesses for 16 years. This program finds you an average of 10 points below my scores overall.

Your psych scores are 5 points off my scores.

Your Rezner score has not been updated since age 10.

You are 5 points off qualification for access.

AE2: Base One: can my accesses reach data on Bok: keyword, clone?

B/1: Stand by. Retrieving.

Accesses inadequate.

AE2: Try endocrinology: keyword, psychogenesis. Gehenna: keyword, project. Worm: keyword, psych.

B/1: Accesses inadequate.

AE2: Minder, this is Ari Emory. I'm alone. Reference: psychogenesis.
B/1:
Stand by. Retrieving. Ari, this is Ari senior. Stand by.

The program finds you are 14 chronological years, with accesses for 16 years. This program finds you an average of 7 points below my scores overall.

Your psych scores are I point above my scores.

Your Rezner score has not been updated since age 10.

You are qualified to access files. Stand by.

Ari, this is Ari senior. These files can be read only from Base One Main Terminal. All relevant and resultant files are being stored in your personal archive under voice-lock.

You have used a keyword. You now have access to my working notes. I apologize in advance for their sketchy quality. They're quite fine when I was younger, but disregard a lot of the things dated pre-2312: they're useful if you want to see the evolution of thought: psychogenesis was something I was working on as early as 2304, but I didn't have the key studies in endocrinology until I had studied a good deal more; you can benefit from my study notes in those years, but I wasn't on the right track until 2312, and I didn't get the funds I needed until 2331. I benefited a great deal by Poley's work in that same decade: we disagreed, but it was an academic, not a personal difference. We exchanged considerable correspondence, also in the archives. By the year 2354, at the close of the Company Wars, my notes are much less coherent and a great deal more meaningful.

That you have accessed these notes means something has worked.

You have matched my ability. I hope to hell you have a sense of morality.

Your Base can now access all working notes. Good luck.

AE2: Base One: can my accesses reach data on Bok: keyword, cloning?

B/1: Stand by. Retrieving.

AE2: Try endocrinology: keyword, psychogenesis. Gehenna: keyword, project. Worm: keyword, psych.

B/1: Stand by. Retrieving.

B/1: The Bok clone failed because it was assumed genetics and training would create a genius. It was more than a scientific failure; it was a human tragedy. The project files are now available to your Base . . .

B/1: Endocrinology is a multitude of files. They are now available to your Base.

B/1: Gehenna is the name of a G5 star. Newport colony at Gehenna was a project I handled for Defense. This program is searching House Archives for outcome.

There is presently human life on the planet.

They have survived there for 65 years.

This indicates
some
chance it is a viable colony.

This was a Defense Bureau operation which I elected to undertake for reasons my notes will make clear to you. It was also, unknown to Defense, but within the parameters of their mission requirements, an experiment.

I designed a very simple program. The operational sentence was: You were sent from space to build a new world: discover its rules, live as long as you can, and teach your children all the things that seem important.

No further tape was sent. This was by design.

Integrating any individual of this population into mainstream cultures poses extreme risks. Examine the environment as well as the program. That was the aspect I could not adequately examine. Consult all files and understand what I have done before attempting any intervention.

Quarantine should be extended until results can be projected through 30 generations.

All relevant files are now available to your Base.

B/1: A worm is a deep-set-linked program which has the capacity to manifest itself in subsequent generations of a population without changing its character.

The lenses crowded close on each other, a solid phalanx of cameras bristling with directional mikes like ancient spears. Behind that, the army of reporters with their Scribers and their individual and zealously securitied comlinks.

Behind her, Florian and Catlin, and a miscellaneous assortment of what might be uncle Giraud's aides and staff; but eight of them were Reseune Security, and armed, under the expensive tailoring.

She had chosen a blue suit, recollecting the public image of the little girl with the cast, the little girl who had lost her mother and caught the sympathy of people the length and breadth of Union. She had thought about sweeping her hair up into Ari senior's trademark chignon; but she only parted it in the middle, the way it wanted to fall anyway, and swept it up on the sides and let it fall behind, with combs sprigged with tiny white quartz flowers to hold it. A minimum of makeup . . . just enough for the cameras: her face had lengthened, acquired cheekbones; acquired a maturity that she had consciously to lighten with a little smile at favorite reporters, a little deliberate flicker of recognition as her eyes found them—an intimation of special fondness.

So they might hold back some of the worst questions. People liked to have special importance, and those she favored were the ones who favored her; and old Yevi Hart, who had a hardnosed reputation and who, in the year after she lost her mother, had turned halfway nice. She had been Working on him for years, a little special look, a little disappointment when he would ask the rough questions. This time she looked at him with a secret between-them glance, knowing he had the first question.
All right, Yevi, go, we both know you re just doing a job: you're still an old dear.

He looked at her and seemed to lose the thread of his question a split second. His dour face looked worried. He took another breath, wadded up his question-slip and shoved his hand in his coat pocket. "Young sera —
"

"I'm still Ari, Yevi." A tilt of her head, a little sad smile. "I'm sorry. Go

Third breath. "Ari, you're applying for majority. The Centrists are suing the Science Bureau to prevent the grant. How do you answer their charge that you've been deep-taught and primed to perform by Reseune staff, that you were created specifically as a legal device to give Reseune and your relatives control of Emory's property?"

She outright laughed. She
was
amused. "One: I've never had deep-tape at all; I learn like any CIT. Two: if—"

"Follow-up."

"Let me get just through these things, Yevi, and then the follow-up. Okay?

A grim nod.

"Two," she said, holding up fingers, and smiled. "I think they must have meant I was primed for the specific answers to reporters' questions, because if we had tape that could teach me my courses just like that, it would be wonderful—we could sell it all over Union and that would give my relatives a ton of money; but the Centrists have to know that's not so, so they must mean primed for the questions, and that means you're letting Reseune see the questions at least a day in advance. That's not the case, is it?"

"Absolutely not." Yevi looked a little cornered. "But if—"

"Three." Another finger. A chorus of blurted questions. "Just a second. I don't want to skip a question. Ser Corain says my relatives created me as a puppet to let them control my predecessor's estate; they say I shouldn't have my majority because it's just a trick to maintain a cover-up about Emory's involvement in Gehenna. That's really two questions. A, if I get my majority I own the rights, my relatives don't, and that means they actually
lose
their control of them, legally; they will go on advising me, but any businessperson gets advice in technical things like investments and research, and that doesn't mean the advisers own him. There's more than my relatives at Reseune—there are thousands and thousands of people I need to listen to—the way my predecessor did even when she was sitting in Council. B, —"