Cherryh, C J - Alliance-Union 08 (99 page)

"They don't have rejuv. It's a hard life. They're going to die around fifty and sixty. So the kids won't be much more than twenty or so before they're going on just what they could learn."

"Your Beta's instructions are likely to be more near-term, less abstract, more comprehensible to the young ones."

"My Alpha founds a religion."

"God. He'd have to be awfully well socialized. And machiavellian. Besides, it's not an azi kind of thing to do."

"Just practical."

"But, given that he does, would the kids
understand
the value of the instruction? Or wouldn't it just go to memorizing the forms and ritual? Ritual is a damned inefficient transmission device, and it generates its own problems. —I think we'd better start working this out in numbers and sets, and get some solid data, before we get too far into speculations. I'm not sure your Alpha can win out over the Beta in any sense. You're likely to lose virtually all his input. And you're likely to end up with a matrilinear culture in that instance—and a very small directorate if it's by kinships. The question is whether kinships are instinctive or cultural. . . I'm cheating on that, because I've read the Bureau reports on Gehenna. But they're not going to resolve it, because there were CITs in the Gehenna colony."

She had lunch with Maddy; and heard the latest in the Amy-'Stasi feud. Which made her mad. "I could kill Stef Dietrich," Maddy said.

"Don't bother," Ari said. "I'll bet Yvgenia's already thought of that."

Mostly she thought about the colony-problem, around the edges of the Amy-'Stasi thing. And thought:
Damn, the minute anything goes CIT, everybody's crazy, aren't they?

The office was shut when she got back. She waited at the door and waited, and finally Justin showed up, out of breath.

"Sorry," he said, and unlocked. (Although she could have had Base One do it, through Security 10, but that was overkill, and made Security records, and meant papers. So she didn't.)

"Grant's got some stuff over at Sociology," he said. "He's running a paper for me. I
do
get work done outside of this—"

He was in a good mood. It cheered her up. She took the cup of coffee he made for her and sat down and they started at it again. "Let's assume," he said, "that whether or not kinships are instinctual, your socialized azi are likely to replicate the parent culture."

"Makes sense," she said.

"Likely quite thoroughly. Because they'll place abstract value on it, as the source of the orders."

She had never noticed the way he bit at his lip when he was thinking. It was a boyish kind of thing, when mostly he looked so mature. And he smelled good. A lot like Ollie. A
lot
like Ollie.

And she couldn't help thinking about it.

He and Grant were lovers. She knew that from gossip in the House. She couldn't imagine it.

Except at night, when she was lying in the dark looking at the ceiling and wondering what made them that way and whether—

—whether he
had
any feelings about her, and whether it was all just worry about Security that made him want Grant there all the time. Like he needed protection.

She liked being close to him. She always had.

She knew what was the matter finally. She felt the flux strong enough to turn everything upside down, and felt a lump in her throat and outright missed his next question.

"I—I'm sorry."

"The second-generation run. You're assuming matrilineal."

She nodded. He made a note. Tapped the paper. She got up to see, leaning by the arm of his chair. "You should have had an instructional tape in the lot to cover family units. Do you want to input one?"

"I—"

He looked over his shoulder at her. "Ari?"

"I'm sorry. I just lost things a minute."

He frowned. "Something wrong?"

"I—a couple of friends of mine are having a fight. That's all. I guess I'm a little gone-out." She looked at the printout. And felt sweat on her temples. "Justin, —did you ever—did you ever have trouble with being smart?"

"I guess I did." A frown came between his brows and he turned the chair and leaned his arm on the desk, looking up at her. "I didn't think of it like that, but I guess that was one of the reasons."

"Did you—" O God, this was scary. It could go wrong. But she was in it now. She leaned up against the chair, against him. "Did you ever have trouble with being older than everybody?" She took a breath and slid her hand onto his shoulder and sat down on the chair arm.

But he got up, fast, so fast she had to stand up to save herself from falling.

"I think you'd better talk this over with your uncle," he said.

Nervous. Real nervous. Probably, she thought, uncle Denys
had
said something to him. That made her mad. "Denys doesn't have a thing to say about what I do," she said, and came up against him and held on to his arm. "Justin, —there's nobody my own age I'm interested in. There
isn't
anybody. It doesn't hurt, I mean, I sleep-over with anybody I want. All the time."

"That's fine." He disengaged his arm and turned and picked up some papers off his desk. His hands were shaking. "Go back to them. I engaged to teach you, not—whatever."

She had trouble getting her breath. That was a
hell
of a reaction. It was scary, that a man reacted that way to her. He just gathered up his stuff, went to the door.

As the door opened and Grant stood there taking in what he saw, with small moves of his eyes.

"I'm going home," Justin said. "Closing up early today. How did the run go?"

"Fine," Grant said, and came in and laid it down, ignoring her presence, ignoring everything that had gone on.

"The
hell,"
Ari said, and to Justin: "I want to talk to you."

"Not today."

"What are you doing? Throwing me out?"

"I'm not throwing you out. I'm going home. Let's give us both a little chance to cool off, all right? I'll see you in the morning."

Her face was burning.
She
was shaking. "I don't know what my uncle told you, but
I
can find something to tell him, you just
walk
out on me. Get out of here, Grant! Justin and I are talking!"

Grant went to the door, grabbed Justin's arm and shoved him out. "Get out of here," Grant said to him. And when Justin protested:
"Out!"
Grant said to him. "Go home. Now."

They had the door blocked. She was scared of a sudden—more scared when Grant argued Justin out the door and closed her in the office.

In a moment Grant came back. Alone. And closed the door again.

"I can call Security," she said. "You lay a hand on me and I'll swear Justin did it. You watch me!"

"No," Grant said, and held up a hand. "No, young sera. I'm not threatening you. Certainly I won't. I ask you, please, tell me what happened."

"I thought he told
you
everything."

"What did happen?"

She drew a shaken breath and leaned back against the chair. "I said I was bored with boys. I said I wanted to see if a man was any different. Maybe he hit me. Maybe he grabbed me. Who knows? Tell him go to hell."

"Did he do those things?"

"He's screwed everything up. I need him to teach me, and all I did was ask him to go to bed with me, I don't think that was an insult!" Damn, she hurt inside. Her eyes blurred. "You tell him he'd
better
teach me. You tell him he'd
better.
I need him, damn him."

Grant went azi then, and she remembered he
was
azi, which it was easy to forget with him; and she was in the wrong, yelling at him and not at Justin; she had a license that said responsibility, and she wanted to hit him.

"Young sera," he said, "I'll tell him. Please don't take offense. I'm sure there won't be any problem."

" 'There won't be any problem.' Hell!" She thought of working with him, day after day, and shook her head and lost her composure. "Dammit!" As the tears flooded her eyes. She pushed away from the chair and went for the door, but Grant stopped her, blocking her path. "Get out of my way!"

"Young sera," Grant said. "Please.
Don't
go to Security."

"I never asked for this. All I asked was a polite question!"

"
I'll
do whatever you want, young sera. Any time you want. I have no objection. Here, if you want. Or at your apartment. All you have to do is ask me."

Grant was tall, very tall. Very quiet and very gentle, as he reached out and took her hand. And there was very little space between her and the desk. She backed into it, her heart going like a hammer.

"Is that what you want, young sera?"

"No," she said, finding a breath.

And did, dammit, but he was too adult, too strange, too cold.

"Sera is not a child. Sera has power enough to have whatever she wants, by whatever means. Sera had better learn to control
what
she wants before she gets more than she bargained for. Dammit, you've cost him his father, his freedom, and his work. What else will you take?"

"Let me go!"

He did then. And bowed his head once politely, and went and opened the door.

She found herself shaking.

"Any time, young sera. I'm always available."

"Don't you take that tone with me."

"Whatever sera wishes. Please come tomorrow. I promise you—no one will bring the matter up if you don't. Ever."

"The hell!"

She got out the door, down the hall. Her chest hurt. Everything did.

Like the part of her that was herself and not Ari senior—had just fallen apart.

I fell in love about as often as any normal human being. I gave everything I had to give. And I got back resentment. Genuine hatred.

. . . isolation from my own kind. . . .

She caught her breath, reached the lift, got in and pushed the button.

Not crying. No. She wiped the underside of her lashes with a careful finger, trying not to smear her makeup, and was composed when she walked out in the hall downstairs.

She knew what the first Ari would tell her. She had read it over and over. So,
well, elder Ari, you were right. I'm a fool once. Not twice. What now?

Grant walked into the cubbyhole of the second floor restroom and found Justin at the sink washing his face. Water beaded on white skin in the flickering light second floor had been complaining about for a week. "She's gone home," Grant said, and Justin pulled a towel from the stack and blotted his face with it.

"What did she say?" Justin asked. "What did
you
say?"

"I propositioned her," Grant said. "I believe that's the word."

"My
God,
Grant—"

Grant turned on the calm, quiet as he could manage, given the state of his stomach. "Young sera needed something else to think about," he said. "She declined. I wasn't sure that she would. I was, needless to say, relieved. Very fast work for young sera. I was so sure you were safe for an hour."

Justin threw the towel into the laundry-bin and folded his arms tight about his ribs. "Don't joke. It's not funny."

"Are you all right?"

"I'm having flashes. Oh, God, Grant, I—
Dammit!"

He spun about and hit the wall with his hand and leaned there, stiff, hard-breathing, in that don't-touch-me attitude that absolutely meant it.

But Grant had ignored that before. He came and pried him away and folded him in his arms, just held on to him until Justin got a breath and a second one.

"I—lost—my sense of where I was," Justin said finally, between small efforts after air. "God, I just—went away. I couldn't navigate. She's—God knows. God knows what I said. It just blew up—she—"

"—she
needed
a firm no. It's doubtless a new thing for her. Calm down.

Now is now."

"A damn
kid!
I—had—no finesse about it, absolutely none, I just—"

"You were expressing a polite and civilized no when I walked in. That young sera doesn't recognize the word isn't your fault. Young sera may call Security and young sera may lodge charges, I have absolutely no idea. But if she does, you have a witness, and I have no trouble about going under probe. Young sera needs favors from
you.
I politely suggested she consider the trouble she's caused and show up tomorrow with a civilized attitude—at which time
I'm going
to be there; at all times hereafter, I assure you." He pushed Justin back at arm's length. "She's sixteen. Personalities aside, she's quite the other end of the proposition—a year younger than you were. A great deal more experienced, by all accounts, but not—not in adult behavior. Am I right? She has no idea what she's dealing with. No more than you did."

Justin blinked. Rapid thought: Grant knew the look. "Go back to the office."

"Where are
you
going?"

"To make a phone call."

"Denys?"

Justin shook his head.

"Good God," Grant said. And felt as if the floor had sunk. "You're not serious."

"I'm going alone, if she'll see me. Which is far from likely at this point."

"No. Listen. Don't do this. If you're having flashback, for God's
sake
don't do this."

"I'm going to straighten it out. Once for all. I'm going to tell her what happened—"

"No!" Grant seized his arm and held on, hard. "Administration will have your head on a plate—
listen to me.
Even if she took your side she hasn't got the authority to protect you. She hasn't got anything, not really.
Not
inside
these
walls."

"What in hell do we do? What do we do when they take us in and they trump up a rape charge—what happens when we end up in a ward over in hospital under Reseune law? All they need is a statement from her. ..."

"And you're going to go over to her apartment and talk to her. No."

"Not her apartment. I don't think I can handle that. But somewhere."

Justin took a sip of Scotch as the waiter at
Changes
brought the three to their table—Ari in an ice-green blouse with metallic gray beading, Florian and Catlin in evening black.