Cyteen u-2

by Carolyn Janice Cherryh

  Corain thought it through a moment, knowing there was a hook in it somewhere, in the situation or in the proposal, one, but he could not see where. "You mean a non-adversarial settlement. This is a murder case—"

  "A case with security implications. A case in which the murderer and the victim's family and resident territory are equally willing to ask for a non-adversary proceeding. If the aim here is justice instead of a political forum—justice would be better served by a settlement in closed Council."

  "There's no precedent for this."

  "Precedent has to be set somewhere—in this case, on the side of humanity. There are no losers by this procedure. Except Rocher loses his forum. Even Ari gains by it. The last thing she would want is to have her death give Rocher a chance to damage the institution she devoted her life to. We can establish a separate facility for Dr. Warrick, provide him everything he needs to continue his work. We don't want a vendetta. We will insist on his retirement—his complete retirement from public life, because we don't want himtaking advantage of this once the settlement is made. Very plainly, ser, bothof us have to refrain from making this a political issue. And that includes Dr. Warrick. The settlement will postponetrial indefinitely. In case he breaks his silence. We don't want to have our hands tied."

  "I have to think about this. Before I agree to anything, frankly, I'd like the option of talking to Dr. Warrick on neutral ground. Matter of conscience, you understand. A lot of us, who might be the natural opposition—will feel that way."

  "Of course. Damn, I hate to have to deal with this on the day of Ari's funeral. But business goes on. It has to."

  "I understand you, ser Nye." Corain finished the little cup, made up the nethermost recesses of his mind that he hadto find out what the going rate was on real coffee, that it was worth the extravagance, that he could afford it, even at two hundred a half kilo, which was the freight from Earth to Cyteen. Another level of his mind was saying that there was a camera somewhere, and still another that all the advantages he had seen in Ariane Emory's death were there—

  If a deal could be worked out, if a compromise could be made. Nye was damned sharp. He had to start all over learning his signals the way he had learned Emory's. The man was a cipher, an unknown quantity out of a territory none of his observers could penetrate. Only Warrick. And Warrick was lost to them. That much was clear.

  Things were different in Union. From the time that pipe in the laboratory had exploded, the course of history had shifted.

  They were entering a period in which the Centrist party might make rapid gains, if they could avoid getting bogged down in wrangling that won no one anything and would not unseat the Expansionists.

  The Rubin project and the Fargone project were presumably on hold. The Hope project might be funded, but further expansions and colonizations might be subject to more intense debate. One could look forward to a period of adjustment inside Reseune as well as out, while personalities inside Reseune held in check during the nearly sixty years of Emory's autocratic regime (there was no question who in Reseune had directed the director even after she had resigned the post) were likely to break out and grab for power within the administrative structure.

  That also went for other alliances, like those on Council.

  Ludmilla deFranco was a freshman Councillor. Nye would be. Powerful Science . . . was going to have a novice at the helm—a damned smart one, but still, a novice who did not have the network to support him. Yet. Two of the five Expansionists were successors this year and Ilya Bogdanovitch was a hundred thirty-two years old and tottering.

  Corain murmured the courtesies, thanked the proxy from Reseune, expressed condolences to the family, and walked out with his mind busy with the possibility, the very real possibility, of a Centrist majority in the Council.

  It occurred to him that he had not raised the issue of the terminated azi. Merino's issue. He could hardly go back and do it. In fact, he was reluctant to do it, because very possibly that order had come from Reseune Security, for exactly the reasons Nye gave. It was morally repugnant. But it was not, not quiteas if azi who had served Ariane Emory for most of her hundred and twenty years were harmless. There were, he understood, severe psychological consequences of such a loss; no human reared as CIT could possibly understand the impact of it, except perhaps the staff who routinely worked with azi. He would raise the issue with Warrick. Ask Warrick whether it was warranted. Or whether Warrick thought it had in fact been Emory who had put that instruction in the system.

  Damn, he had rather not bring it up at all. The azi were dead. Like Emory. That closed the book. There was no use for that issue; instinct had kept him from raising it.

  It was the old proverb. Deal with the devil if the devil has a constituency. And don't complain about the heat.

  viii

  Adm. Leonid Gorodin settled uncomfortably into the chair and took the offered cup. He had come in to pay the requisite courtesy, and Nye had said: "There's something I have to discuss with you. About the Fargone facility. About the Rubin project. And Hope. Have you got a moment?"

  It was not Gorodin's habit to discuss any issue with the opposition or with reporters—without his aides, without references, in an office his own staff had not vetted. But the same instinct for intrigue that said it was dangerous also said it was the one chance he might have without having Corain aware that he was in serious conference with the opposition.

  And the names were the names he wanted to hear.

  "I truly hate to get to business on the day of Ari's funeral," Nye said. "But there's really no choice. Things can slip out of control so quickly." He took a sip of coffee. "You know I'm going to run for Ari's seat."

  "I expected," Gorodin said. "I expect you'll win."

  "It's a critical time for us. Ari's death—the potential loss of Warrick on top of it—it's a double blow. Not only to us. To Union. To our national interests. You understand that I have a top-level security clearance. Equal to Ari's. I have to have. I won't ask you for answers; but I amassociated with your projects— I worked with your predecessor during the war—"

  "I'm aware you have the clearance. And that you're privy to those files. And you're keeping them out of the investigation."

  "Absolutely. No discussion of those files and no interview with a staffer on those projects, except by personnel with equivalent clearance. You don't need to worry about leaks, admiral. Ora trial."

  Gorodin's heart jumped. He wished he had not heard that. There was the likelihood of recorders, and he had to make his reaction clear. "What are you saying?"

  "Non-adversary settlement. Warrick did it. He's confessed. The motive was blackmail and sexual harassment. His son, you understand. With a complicated situation that—between you and me—could do the boy great harm. Warrick's deal is simple: a facility where he can continue his work. We won't agree to Fargone. It'll have to be on Cyteen. But I've talked to Corain."

  "Already."

  "An hour ago. I didn't mention the security aspects of this. We talked politics. You know and I know, admiral, that there are radical elements involved on the fringes of this case. There are people going to be going over the testimony of witnesses that canbe psychprobed, and going over it, and going over it. There are elements of Justin Warrick's testimony that involve the Fargone project, that are going to have to be classified."

  "Warrick discussed it with his kid?"

  "The motive for the transfer was the boy. Justin Warrick knows—more than he ought to know. If there have been leaks in this, admiral, they've all come from Jordan Warrick. And frankly, if it gets to trial, I'm afraid the threads of motivation—run into some very sensitive areas. But if we black out too much of the transcript, that raises other suspicions—in some minds, —doesn't it?"

  "My God, what's your fucking security worth? Who else knows?"

  "Very likely the azi that was kidnapped. He's Justin's."

  "My God."

  "It's not likely that Rocher's boys cracked him. He's Alpha
and he's a tape designer—the azi is, understand. Not an easy subject. But there is the possibility that he wasn't aware of having classified information. That's why we went to Lu's office when we needed help breaking him out of there. We needed to get hold of him alive and debrief him, in the case we missed someone. Fortuitously and fortunately, the action took care of the kidnappers. All of them. We think. But we weren't overusing our authority when we told Lu that azi was a security risk. I suppose the rush of events has been too rapid for all of us. Ari was going to send me to the city with the report for Lu. Unfortunately—"

  "You don't think there was any possible motivation on Warrick's part, involving the azi and Rocher—"

  "When he killed Ari? A crime of anger that didn't start out that way: he hit her, that was all. But when she turned out to be seriously injured he realized he'd just killed his chance of appointment at Fargone. So he killed her and tried to make it look like an accident. It wasn't quite in cold blood; it wasn't quite otherwise either. He hated her. I'm afraid Ari had serious weaknesses when it came to adolescent boys. A great mind. Correspondingly eccentric vices. Frankly, we're anxious to avoid having that aspect of Ari put out in public view. Conspiracies—no. There weren't. You can interview Warrick yourself if you like. Or his son. We have his deposition under psychprobe. Not Jordan Warrick's, of course, but the son's indicates fairly well what was going on. There are also some vids that are—very explicit. We don't intend to erase them. But they don't have to go out to the news-services. It's a very old story, I'm afraid. Blackmail. Outraged parent. A cover-up that turned into murder."

  "Damn." Get my son out of there,Warrick had said. Had meant it, evidently. "Damn."

  "We want to honor our commitments. The arrangement we have in mind puts Jordan Warrick in a facility of his own, under guard. And he can go on doing work for you. We'll do the testing. You won't have to worry about its integrity. It's altogether a humane solution, one that conserves a talent we can't afford to lose."

  "You've talked to Corain."

  "He says he's got to study the idea. I tried to point out, there are no disadvantages to him in supporting a settlement. What does anyone gain from a prosecution of this case? What does anyone gain, except Rocher and his cronies? —And we've lost terribly by this. Not only the mind. You understand . . . we're still committed to the projects."

  "The Fargone facility."

  "We assume that will go forward. Perhaps—the military can make use of more of it than we planned."

  "Meaning the Rubin project is going under."

  "No. We're still committed to that."

  "Without Dr. Emory?" Gorodin drew a large breath. "You think you can succeed."

  Nye was silent for a moment. "Refill," he said to the azi who served them, and that man, gray and silent, came and poured in both cups.

  Nye sipped thoughtfully. Then: "Do you want the technical details?"

  "I leave that to the scientists. My interest is practical. And strategic. Can you go on from Emory's notes?"

  "Which had you rather have duplicated? A chemist who is, admittedly, extraordinary in potential. Or Emory herself?"

  Gorodin swallowed down a mouthful. "You're serious."

  "Let me go into some of the surface technicalities, at least. The project demands a subject with an extraordinary amount of documentation—on the biochemical level. There aren't many subjects of the quality we want, who have that land of documentation. Both Ari and Rubin have it: Rubin because of his medical problems, Ari because she was born to Emory and Carnath when they were both above a century in age. Born in Reseune labs, of course. By a process weran, on which our records are immaculate. Her father was dead when she was born; her mother died when she was seven. Her uncle Geoffrey brought her up beyond that. She succeeded Geoffrey Carnath as director of Reseune when she was sixty-two. And she was Olga Carnath's own prize project, the subject of intensive study and recording first by her mother and then by Geoffrey Carnath. Suffice it to say, her documentation is equal to Rubin's, if not more extensive. More than that—Ari always intendedthat she eventually be one of the Specials affected by this project. She left abundant notes—for her successor."

  "My God."

  "Why not? She has the value. Now that she's gone, granted her theories are valid—we have a choice between recovering a chemist who, frankly, means nothing to us, or Ari—whose mind, I don't hesitate to say—is on a level with Bok or Strehler, whose research has had profound effect on national security. And we cando it."

  "You're serious."

  "Absolutely. We see no reason to abandon the project. There are essentials: Warrick is one. You understand—as many of the elements of Ari's life we can study, the better our chances of success."

  "What—about Rubin?"

  "It would still be possible to go ahead with that. It would be useful as a control. And a cover under the cover, so to speak. I don't want the Rubin project in Reseune. I don't want it impacting what we plan to do. You understand—the name of the game is re-tracing. Intensive monitoring—Ari was used to that, but her successor ought not to have direct contact with someone else undergoing the same thing. We'd have to run both halves of the Rubin project at Fargone."

  "You imply you intend to do this—whether or not you have official support."

  "I'm seeking that support. I want to save Warrick. I want to cooperate fully with the military. We need the kind of security and cover you can provide us—at least until the new Ari can surface. Then it appears as a Reseune project—a thoroughly civilianproject. That's useful, isn't it?"

  "God." Gorodin drank down the other half of his coffee. And held out his cup to the azi.

  "Abban," Nye said. The azi came and filled the cup—while Gorodin used the delay to do some fast adding.

  "What," he said then, carefully, "does this have to do with Warrick?"

  "We need him. We need him to go on with his work."

  "Him? To reconstruct her?Working on hertapes?"

  "No. That wouldn't be wise. I'm talking about Reseune. Remember—we have to think in twenty-, fifty-year terms. He's still young. He's only now showing what he cando. His own research interlocks with Ari's. Let me be honest with you: Ari's notes are extremely fragmentary. She was a genius. There are gaps of logic in her notes—sort of an of coursethat Ari could bridge and didn't need to write down. We can't guarantee success: no program of this sort can. We only know that we have a better chance with Ari, that we knew intimately, than with a stranger that we don't. She coded a great deal. Her leaps from point to point, the connections ... in a field she damned near built. . . make her notes a real maze. If we lose the principals of Ari's life—if we can't recover something like the life Ari lived—if certain people aren't available to consult, then I think our chances of seeing this project work go down and down. Ultimately Ari's notes could become meaningless. The matrix becomes lost, you see, the social referent irrecoverable. But we have it now. I think we can do it. I knowwe can do it."

  "But what damn use is all of this, then—beyond recovering Emory herself? How many people are we going to have that land of record on? What can it apply to? It can't get us Bok."

  "Emory herself is not negligible. Emory able to take up her work where she left off—but at about age twenty. Maybe younger. We don't know. We'll find out. Understand: what we learn doingthis will tell us how much data we have to have with other projects. Like Bok. We just have to be damned careful this round. Because if the worst-case holds, everyprecaution is necessary: everyinfluence is irreplaceable. Getting Ari back is step one. If there's going to be an amplification of her work on personality formation— Ariis the key to it. We have a chance with her. We knowher. We can fill in the gaps in the information and make corrections if it looks necessary. We don't know Rubin to that extent. We don't have the headstart even with him we do with her, do you see? Rubin has become a luxury. Retrieving Ari Emory is a necessity. We can try it on our own, but it would be a hell of a lot easier—with Defense Bureau support."
/>
  "Meaning money."

  Nye shook his head. "Cover. The ability to hold on to Warrick. The ability to shield what we're doing. The authority to protect our research—and our subject—from Internal Affairs."

  "Ah." Gorodin drew a deep breath. "But money—it always comes to money."

  "We can bear our end of it if you fund the Rubin project. But the necessity to protect our subjects is absolute. Success or failure hinges on that."

  Gorodin leaned back in his chair and chewed his lip. And thought again about recorders. "Have you talked to Lu?"

  "Not yet."

  "You haven't mentioned this to anyone outside Reseune."

  "No. I don't intend to. We had one security breach—with the azi. We've covered it. There won't be another."

  Gorodin thought about it—civilians running their own affairs under military cover. One breach and God knew what else. Too many amateurs.

  Reseune wanted to start a close cooperation, on a project Gorodin, dammit, saw shifting the balance of power irrevocably toward Union—

  Ariane Emory experimenting with a kid on Fargone had seemed a hell of a lot safer. Reseune trying to raise the dead seemed—

  —hell, go for the big gain. Go for everything.

  It was a pittance, to the Defense budget.

  "I don't think there's much problem," Gorodin said. "We just appropriate the Fargone facility. We invoke the Military Secrets Act. We can cover any damn thing you need."

  "No problem," Nye said. "No problem in that. As long as it stays classified."

  "No problem with that," Gorodin said.

  "So we stamp everything Rubin project," Nye said. "We build the Fargone facility; we work the Rubin project under deep secrecy out there; we get deeper cover for our work on Cyteen."

  "Two for the price of one?" It struck Gorodin after he had said it that the expression was a little coarse, on the day of Emory's funeral. But, hell, it was her resurrection they were talking about. Not identity, Warrick had said. Ability.That was close enough.