Cyteen: The Betrayal (7 page)

Reseune puts ten geneset s in storage as A**-l.

3ATCH AGCULT-789X: ONE UNIT:

A day along, in a womb-tank in a large building somewhat downhill from the last facility, is AGCULT-789X. AGCULT-789X, experimental as the X-designation indicates, closely resembles the RYX-20s or the EL’-4651s, except that the genetic codes of the RYX-20s and the EU-4651s indicate two feet while that of AGCULT-789X indicates four, and the RYX-20’s and the EU-4651’s codes indicate smooth skin, while AGCULT-789X’s indicates a sleek bay hide and a superlative ability to run.

AGCULT-789X is exceedingly rare material, Terran in origin, another attempt at a species with which Cyteen has had limited success. The AGCULT programs, involving not only animal species, but also botanical studies, have had far more success with the algae and with the lower end of a food-chain which may one day support the descendants of Terran species. In a much-heralded gesture toward peace, Earth has provided Cyteen with genesets and data on the whole range of Terran species, with particular emphasis on the endangered or extinct, along with human genesets which may contain genetic information missing from Union and Alliance genepools.

Reciprocally, Union has released representative genesets of Union populations to Terran genetic archives, in an exchange program designed to provide a valuable comparison between the two populations, and to provide a reference in event of global catastrophe or unforeseen lapse in contact.

Of the two worlds presently supporting human colonies, one, Downbelow, is, of course, a protectorate, and there is no question of changing the environment to any extent that would wipe out the indigenes. Humanity remains a visitor to Downbelow.

Cyteen, far less hospitable, harboring no species more advanced than the various platytheres and ankyloderms, was far more suitable for radical terraforming, and Cyteen’s ability to store genetic material against irrevocable climatic and atmospheric change at least raises hopes of selective recoveries in specific protected habitats should changes exceed their intended limits.

Terraforming, while wreaking havoc on many native species, has provided a unique opportunity to study interface zones and compare adaptive changes in Terrene and indigenous species, advancing our understanding of catastrophic changes which have impacted Terrene species over geologic time, and of the degree of change facing the human species in its radical changes of habitat.

Understanding that genetic changes are inevitable but not always desirable, Earth has begun to look on Cyteen as a repository for genetic information on species threatened with extinction. Some of the more ambitious projects involve large-mammal habitat, from the bottom of the food-chain up. Ironically, the experience in terraforming Cyteen, destructive as it has been of Cyteen’s indigenous life, is making possible the recovery of certain threatened ecosystems on Earth, and the establishment of more fragile systems on Mars, fourth planet of Sol system.

Certain of the proposed future exchanges are quite ambitious.

Earth is particularly anxious for the success of cetaceans and higher primates on Cyteen. It has proposed a joint study program as soon as the cetacean project is viable, for the study of cetacean development and the comparison of whalesong on Cyteen and on Earth.

Cyteen finds such projects of interest too, for the future. But the present emphasis in terraforming and recovery is far more concerned with the immediate problems in large-scale atmospheric changes, and the problems of interface zones, high salinity, and trace minerals in Swigert Bay, at the delta of the heavily-colonized Novaya Volga, which offers the most favorable conditions for large-scale marine aquaculture …

i.

Reseune from the air was a patch of green in the deep valley of the Novaya Volga, a protected, lowlying strip stretching yearly longer on the riverside, white buildings at the last, and the AG pens, the barracks, the sprawling complex of Reseune proper spread out under the left-side window that was always hers. Ariane Emory latched up her papers, quite on schedule as the gear came down and Florian appeared beside her seat to take temporary custody of her personal kit.

She kept the briefcase.

Always.

The jet touched down, concrete coming up under the delta wings; it braked, taxiing to a gentle stop at Reseune terminal as ground crews swung into action, personnel transport, baggage crews, cleaning crews, mechanics, a crisp and easy operation from decontamination to docking that matched anything Novgorod could muster.

They were all azi, all staff born to Reseune. Their training went far beyond what Novgorod counted sufficient. But that was true of most Reseune personnel.

They were known faces, known types, and everything about them was in the databanks.

For the first time in days Ariane Emory felt herself secure.

The Security hand-off had gone smoothly enough, control passing to Reseune offices the moment the word reached Giraud Nye’s office that RESEUNE ONE had left the ground at Novgorod-with no more than an hour’s advance warning. Ari’s movements were usually sudden and unscheduled, and she did not always give advance notice even to him, who was head of Reseune Security-but this was a record suddenness.

“Advise the staff,” he had told Abban, his own bodyguard, who did that, quickly, seeing to the transfer of logs and reports. He called his brother Denys, in Administration, and Denys advised Wing One as soon as the plane was on final approach.

The last was routine, the standard procedure on Ariane’s returns, whenever RESEUNE ONE came screaming in and Ariane Emory settled into the place that was hers, in her wing, in her residency.

The word had come on yesterday’s news that the Hope project had been tabled, and the stock market had reacted with a shock that might well run the length and width of space, although analysts called it a procedural delay. The good news was a tiny piece following, with biographical clip provided from Science Bureau files, that an obscure chemist on Fargone had been afforded Special status: that bill, at least, had gone through. And the Council had wrapped up in a marathon session that had extended on into the small hours: more ripples in the interstellar stock market, which loathed uncertainties more than it disliked sudden reverses of policy. The news bureaus of every polity in Union had held a joint broadcast of commentary and analysis, preempting scheduled morning broadcasts, senior legislative reporters doing their best to offer interpretations, frustrated in the refusal of even opposition Councillors to grant interviews.

The leader of the Abolitionist faction in the Centrist coalition had granted one: Ianni Merino, his white hair standing out in its usual disorder, his face redder and his rhetoric more extreme than ever, had called for a general vote of confidence of the entire Council and threatened secession from the Centrist party. He did not have the votes to do the one: he might well do the other, and Giraud Nye had sat listening to that, knowing more than the commentators and still wondering along with the news bureaus just what kind of deal had been struck and why Mikhail Corain had been willing to go along with it.

A triumph for Reseune?

A political disaster? Something lost?

It was not Ariane’s habit to consult back during the sessions in Novgorod except in dire emergency, certainly not by phone, not even on Bureau lines; but there were staff couriers and planes always available.

That she had not sent-meant a situation under control, despite that precipitate adjournment-one hoped.

The social schedule had been thrown into utter confusion, the Councillors had canceled meetings right and left, and the Councillors from Russell’s and Pan-paris had sped back to Cyteen Station to make passage on a ship bound for Russell’s Star, departure imminent. Their Secretaries had been left to sit proxy, one presumed, with definite instructions about their votes.

It was more than protocol that brought Giraud Nye and his brother Denys to meet the small bus as it pulled up in the circle drive at the front of Reseune.

The bus door opened. The first one down was, predictably, the azi Catlin, in the black uniform of Reseune security, her face pale and set in a forecast of trouble: she stepped down and reached back to steady Ari as Ari made the single step-Ari in pale blue, carrying her briefcase herself as usual, and with no visible indication of triumph or catastrophe until she looked straight at Giraud and Denys with an expression that foretold real trouble.

“Your office,” she said to Denys. Behind her, exiting onto the concrete with the rest of the staff, Giraud saw Jordan Warrick, who was not supposed to be with that flight, who had flown out five days ago on RESEUNE ONE and was supposed to come back at the end of the week, on a RESEUNEAIR special flight.

There was trouble. Warrick arriving in Ari’s company was as great a shock as Centrists and Expansionists suddenly bedding down together. Warrick’s staff was not with him, only his azi chief-of-Household, Paul, who followed along with a sober, anxious look, carrying a flight-kit.

Abban might collect gossip from the staff, the ones who were Family, and free to talk. Giraud gave Abban the order and fell in with Ari and Denys, silent Florian heading off to the left hall the moment they cleared the doors, Catlin walking along behind with Denys’ azi Seely.

Not a word until they were inside Denys’ inmost office, and Denys turned on the unit that provided sound-screening in the room. Then:

“We’ve got a problem,” Ari said, opening the briefcase very carefully, very precisely on the expensive imported veneer of Denys’ desk.

“Hope’s in trouble?” Denys asked, accepting the fiche she handed him. “Or is it Jordan?”

“Gorodin is promising us unanimous approval for Hope-if Jordan gets a liaison post at a Fargone military psych facility we’re going to have hidden in our budget.”

“God,” Giraud said, and sat down.

“You tell me how you buy Mikhail Corain’s vote, and why Jordan Warrick’s transfer has to be part of Gorodin’s bargain.”

Giraud had no doubts. It was certain that Ari had none.

“He’s become a problem,” Ari said.

“We can’t touch him,” Giraud said. Panic welled up in him. Sometimes Ari forgot she had limits, or that prudence did.

“He’s counting on that, isn’t he?” So, so quietly. Ari settled into the remaining chair. “It still has to be voted. It doesn’t need to be voted until the facility exists. And we just got the appropriation.”

Giraud was sweating. He resisted the impulse to mop his face. The sound-screening tended to make his teeth ache, but at the moment the discomfort was mostly in his gut.

“Well, it’s not that bad,” Denys said, and tilted his chair back, folding his hands on his ample stomach. “We can map this out. Jordie’s being a fool. We can merge his wing right back into Administration, absorb his staff and his records, that for a start.”

“He’s not a fool,” Ari said. “I want to know if we’re missing files.”

“You think he’s left something in Novgorod?”

“What’s ever stopped him?”

“Dammit,” Giraud said, “Ari, I warned you. I warned you.”

Ari tilted her head, regarding him sidelong. “I’ll tell you one thing: even if he goes, son Justin won’t.”

“We’ve got five more years of budget to fight through! What in hell are we going to do when Jordie’s out there in front of the cameras?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“What do you mean, don’t worry about it?”

“He’s here, isn’t he? Left his aides, his staff, everyone but Paul in Novgorod. I didn’t confront him about the leak. I just sent Florian to advise him he was wanted. He’s well aware what he’s done and that I know he’s done it.”

“If you touch him-Listen to me. He won’t have done this without advance preparation. God knows what kind of harm he can do us. Or what kind of information he’s smuggled out of here. My God, I didn’t see this coming.”

“Jordan and his little feuds. His requests for transfer. His bickering on staff. Oh, we’re still friendly. We have our little policy debates. We had one on the way home. And smiled at each other over drinks. Why not? There’s always the chance I believed Gorodin.”

“He knows damn well you didn’t!”

“And he knows that I know that he knows, round and round. So we smile at each other. I’ll tell you something: I’m not worried. He’s sure I won’t move until I know what he’s got. He’s manipulating the situation. Our Education Special thinks he’s the best there is. He’s gambling everything on things going the way he predicts. He’ll make me a counteroffer soon. And I’ll make mine. And that’s how we’ll pass the months. He’s sure he can match me move for move. We’ll see. I’m going to my apartments. I’m sure Florian’s run his checks by now. I’m going to have a shower, put my feet up a while, and read the logs. And have a decent meal. Formal dinner tonight. It’s a session-end, isn’t it? Catlin can approve the menu.”

“I’ll tell the staff,” Denys said. The thought of food turned Giraud’s stomach.

“It’s not a total disadvantage,” she said. “Have you seen the news? The Centrist coalition is showing seams this morning. Corain’s made Ianni Merino very, very upset. An old hand like Corain-this is moving much too fast for him. Corain had his people ready to walk, now he shifts stance on them-the Abolitionists will suspect a sell-out … won’t they? Let the Abolitionists peel off and start talking about dismantling the labs again. It’s bound to make the moderates a little anxious.”

“That’s where Jordan can do us the most damage! If he goes to the press-“

“Oh, you don’t think the Abolitionists are going to credit a voice out of Reseune.”

“If he’s saying the right things they damn well will.”

“Then we have to do something about his credibility, don’t we? Think about it, Gerry. Corain’s going to end up acquiescing-no, voting for-the establishment of a Reseune lab right on the Hope colony route. The Abolitionists haven’t gotten saner, just quieter; and we have our own sleepers in their rank and file. Keep Corain quite busy putting out fires on his own decks. Gorodin may find the whole noise a bit more than he wants: there are always deals we can offer him: he always stands with his feet either side of the line. Lu is the problem, that double-crossing bastard. But we can. persuade him. This facility is exactly the kind of thing that may do it. I want you to look into these things, I don’t need to tell you how discreetly. Use your military contacts. The Science Bureau is dispatching a ship to notify Rubin of his status. They’re also going to take measures to establish him a protective residency in Fargone Blue Zone: the team is on its way Sunday, when Atlantis pushes off for Fargone.”