"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 hadsaid 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'tanybody. 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 hellof 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. Shewas shaking. "I don't know what my uncle told you, but Ican find something to tell him, you just walkout 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 youeverything."
"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 betterteach me. You tell him he'd better.I need him, damn him."
Grant went azi then, and she remembered he wasazi, 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'tgo to Security."
"I never asked for this. All I asked was a polite question!"
" I'lldo 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 whatshe 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?
v
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 yousay?"
"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 neededa 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 goingto 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 y
ounger 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 yougoing?"
"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 sakedon'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. Notinside thesewalls."
"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."
vi
Justin took a sip of Scotch as the waiter at Changesbrought the three to their table—Ari in an ice-green blouse with metallic gray beading, Florian and Catlin in evening black.
Evening at Changeswas a dress occasion. He and Grant had taken pains, both of them in their best. Dress shins and jackets.
"Thank you," Ari said, when the waiter pulled the chair back. "Vodka-and-orange for the three of us, please."
"Yes, sera," the waiter murmured. "Will you want menus?"
"Give us a while," Justin said. "If you will, Ari."
"That's fine." She settled in her chair and folded her hands on the table. "Thank you for coming," Justin said as soon as the waiter left. "I apologize for this afternoon. For Grant and myself. It was me. Not you. Absolutely not you."
Ari shifted back in her seat, her lips pressed to a thin line.
And said not a thing. "Has your uncle Denys called you?"
"Have you called him?"
"No. I don't think he wants to hear what happened. I don't know to what extent he can come back on you—"
"Only because he's the Administrator," Ari said. "There's nothing he'll do to me."
"I wasn't sure." He saw the waiter coming back with the drinks, and waited during the serving.
Ari sipped hers and sighed. "Whose credit is this on?"
"Mine," Justin said. "Don't hesitate." As the waiter discreetly took himself off. It was a private corner, quite private: a sizeable addition to the bill assured it. "I want to assure you first of all—I'm perfectly willing to go on working with you. I want to tell you—what you're doing—is full of problems. But it's not empty exercise. You've got some ideas that are—fairly undeveloped right now. I still don't know to what extent you've modeled this on reality—or borrowed from your predecessor. If it's considerable borrowing—it would be remarkable enough that someone so young is working integrations at all. If any portion of it is original—I have to be impressed; because there is a center of this that, if I were going faster, and not taking the time to demonstrate your problems—I would simply throw into research, because I think it's a helpful model."
"You can do that, if you like." Not spitefully. Reasonably. Quietly. "Perhaps I'll do both. With your permission. Because I'm very afraid it's classified."
"Grant can do it."
"Grant could do it. With your permission. And Yanni's. We work for him."
"Because you refused to be transferred. I can still do that."
He had not expected that. He took a drink of Scotch. And was aware of Grant beside him, subject to whatever mistakes he made. "I wouldn't think," he said, "that you'd be thinking about that after the scene this afternoon."
Redirect. Shift directions.
She sipped at the vodka-and-orange. Sixteen, and fragile—in physiology. In emotions that the alcohol could flatten or exacerbate. Flux-thinking at its finest, Grant was wont to say. Puberty, hormones run wild, and ethyl alcohol.
Oh, God, kid, back off it: it did me no favors.
Power. Political power that was still running in shockwaves across Union; threats of assassination. And all the stress that went with it.
"I'm glad you want to talk about it," Ari said, on a slight sigh following the vodka. "Because I need you. I study my predecessor's notes—on kat. I knowthings. I've talked to Denys about putting the stuff into print.
Organizing everything. I said I wanted you to do it and he didn't want that. I said the hell with that."
"Ari, don'tswear."
"Sorry. But that was what I said. I could have sat down and said I wouldn't budge. But it's real good, politically, if the Bureau gets it about now. Sort of proof that I'm real. So you'll know pretty soon what's mine and what's Ari's. I'll tell you something else you can guess: not allthe notes are going out. Some aren't finished. And some are classified." She took another sip. The glass hardly diminished. "I've thought about this. I've thought real hard. And I've got a problem, because you're the one who's working on deep-sets, you're the one who could teach me the actual things I need— Giraud's very bright; but Giraud's not down the same track. Not at all. I don't wantto do the things he does. Denys is bright. He's very near-term and real-time. Do you want to know the truth? Giraud isn't really a Special. Somebodyhad to have it, to get some of the protections Reseune needed right then. The one who is, is Denys; but Denys wouldn't have it: it would make him too public. So he arranged it to get Giraud the Status."
He stared at her, wondering if it wastrue, if it couldbe true.
"It's in Ari's notes," Ari said. "Now you know something on Denys. But I wouldn't tell him you know. He'd be upset with me for telling you. But it's why you should be careful. I've learned from uncle Denys for years. I still do. But the work I really want is macro-sets and value-sets. You're the only one who's working on the things Ari wantedme to do. I listen to her."
"Listen to her—"
"Her notes. She had a lot to tell me. A lot of advice. Sometimes I don't listen and I'm generally sorry for it. Like this afternoon."
"Am I—in the notes?"
"Some things about you are. That she talked Jordan into doing a PR. That she and Jordan did a lot of talking about the Bok clone problem and they talked about the psych of a PR with the parent at hand—and one like the Bok clone, without. It's interesting stuff. I'll let you read it if you want."
"I'd be interested."
"Stuff on Grant, too. I can give you that. They're going to hold that out of the Bureau notes, because they don't want it in there, about you. Because your father doesn't want it, uncle Denys says."
He took a mouthful of Scotch, off his balance, knowing she had put him there, every step of the way.
Nota child. Wake up, fool. Remember who you're dealing with. Eighteen years asleep. Wake up.
"You didn't walk in here unarmed," he said. "In either sense, I'll imagine."
She ignored that remark, except for a little eye contact, deep and direct. She said: "Why don't you like me, Justin? You have trouble with women?"
A second time off his balance. Badly. And then a little use out of the anger, a little steadiness, even before he felt Grant's touch on his knee. "Ari, I'm at a disadvantage in this discussion, because you aresixteen."
"Chronologically."
"Emotionally. And you shouldn't have the damn vodka." That got a little flicker. "Keeps me quiet. Keeps me from being bored with fools. Drunk, I'm about as eetee as the rest of the world."
"You're wrong about that."
"You're not my mother."
"You want to talk about that?" Offthe other topic. "I don't think you do. Shows what the stuffs doing to you."
&nb
sp; She shook her head. "No. Hit me on that if you Like. I threw that at you. So you're being nice. Let's go back to the other thing. I want just one straight answer—since you're being nice. Is it women, is it because I'm smarter than you, or is it because you can't stand my company?"
"You want a fight, don't you? I didn't come here for this." Another shake of the head. "I'm sixteen, remember. Ari said adolescence was hell. She saidrelations with CITs always lose you a friend. Because people don't like you up that close. Ever. She said I'd never understand CITs. Myself—for my own education—once—I'd like to have somebody explain it to me—why you don't like me."
The smell of orange juice. Of a musky perfume.
This is all there is, sweet. This is as good as it gets.
Oh, God, Ari.
He caught his breath. Felt his own panic, felt the numbing grip on his wrist
"Sera," Grant said.
"No," he said quietly. "No." Knowing more about the woman eighteen years ago than he had learned in that night or all the years that followed.
And reacting, the way she had primed him to react, the way she had fixed him on her from that time on—
"Your predecessor," he said, carefully, civilized, "had a fondness for adolescent boys. Which I was, then. She blackmailed me. And my father. She threatened Grant, to start running test programs on him—on an Alpha brought up as a CIT. Mostly, I think—to get her hands on me, though I didn't understand that then. Nothing—absolutely nothing—of your fault. Iknow that. Say that I made one mistake, when I thought I could handle a situation when I was about your age. Say that Ihave a reluctance when I'm approached by a girl younger than I was, never mind you have her face, her voice, and you wear her perfume. It's nothing to do with you. It's everything to do with what she did. I'd rather not give you the details, but I don't have to. She made a tape. It may be in your apartment for all I know. Or your uncle can give it to you. When you see it, you'll have every key you need to take me apart. But that's all right. Other people have. Nothingto do with you."
Ari sat there for a long, long time, elbows on the table. "Why did she do that?" she asked finally.
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