Regenesis (61 page)

Justin and Grant showed up in brown knit and tweed—it set off Grant’s red hair and did absolutely nothing good for Justin. Set Maddy on him, was Ari’s wicked thought.

But she held back. She thought probably she’d pushed Justin just a little too far all in one day as it was, and figured if he’d wanted to stand out in the crowd, he might really have picked something other than that medium-beige sweater and Harris tweed coat.

Truth was, he didn’t look particularly happy in being here, and mostly, nursing one drink, and surrounded by people twenty years younger than he was, he stayed close to Yanni, who himself stayed close to the cluster of azi—social, all of that lot of azi, more even than Florian and Catlin. The olders seemed more comfortable there, and with each other.

As for Florian and Catlin, both of
them
stayed on the fringe of the azi group, cheerful enough, but
not
indulging in wine at all this evening, she’d noted that, not even with these people who were her dearest friends in all the world. She saw absolutely no reason in present company that they couldn’t or shouldn’t relax, but they didn’t let go, not for a heartbeat. They’d worked so hard, so long, they’d gotten her here safely, they’d gotten her friends here, and there wasn’t anything wrong tonight—was there?

Was there something afoot that she didn’t know?

She almost went and asked them. But she was the hostess, and she had a very conscientious serving staff trying to manage a new arrangement, a new kitchen, and new premises, and trying not to ask questions of her. That was her situation to watch, her current level of crisis being an upset and lost azi maid standing there idle.

“Joyesse,” she said, “you’ve done very well setting up. Would you mind serving canapes? Go to Wyndham. He’ll like your help.”

Joyesse took off. Happy again. All her younger friends were happy—Sam, with his girlfriend at his side, and with Pavel hovering close to him, was telling one of his stories, talking about the build. Justin and Yanni were talking about something—probably lab business. Or Jordan, their mutual problem. And she wasn’t going to think about Jordan tonight.

The fish wall was an absolute success. Everyone admired it. Even the azi serving kept looking up at it, or around at it, in moments of utter, unguarded distraction, eyes taking in this and that detail. Amy naturally wanted to know the names of all the fish and everything that waved or moved or crawled in that tank—because Amy’s place had a similar tank, but round, a cylinder in the middle of her living room, and her aquarium specialist would serve Amy’s place, too. Amy knew fish, but she’d never dealt with salt water, and she was fascinated, happy and excited—for Amy. Maddy—Maddy got a waterfall, with orchids. Sam got a river all through his apartment, with a little pond under a glass floor in the rec room; and Yanni got a big vivarium, with lots of little skinks, which were lizards; and plants and flowers—Yanni said it was a damned waste of money. That was Yanni. He was most probably nervous about actually enjoying it.

She hadn’t asked Stef Dietrich to move in, so there, for someone double-dealing in relationships from the time he was a kid. She’d arranged a very good job at Viking for Stef, he’d live like a prince on a Reseune salary on that mining station, and that was that for him, who’d tried to break hearts in the group…and never had changed his ways.

There were Dan and Mischa Peterson, each with a significant other; there was Stasi Morley-Ramirez, who’d grown up taller than any of them—she just towered; she was going into airport admin, and had a beta azi assistant she’d gotten on her own. She’d grown much more serious than she’d used to be, and that was very, very serious; but she unbent and laughed with Dan and Mischa, like old times.

And there were Mika and Tommy Carnath, each with their own place, both single, so that would have to be watched: they got terrarium gardens and sky-roofs. There was Dan Peterson and Will Morely with under-floor ponds—Will had a relationship going with Peterson’s sister Judith, and she was all right: she was a Gamma Supervisor, and had a clean record, and they were almost engaged.

There were no children in the entire lot. That was going to change, this November.

God, she thought, Giraud. Giraud was going to be fascinated by the skinks.

And that would actually work very well. Giraud had so loved little microcosms. He’d visit here, with the fishes. With Sam’s river. He’d be all over the place. If she were a kid again, in this place, she’d have it all mapped out, and she’d be everywhere.

Sam kept company with his significant other, Maria. She looked very nice in a white lace-edged skirt—was a little tanned, a little freckled, a little on the well-fed side, and was very anxious, clinging close to Sam and thus far speaking to no one without being spoken to. But it was
nice
to have somebody find a relationship who wasn’t a security problem, and if Sam liked her, she had to have special qualities. Give Maria plenty of latitude—because it was, in a very major way, Sam’s evening, and he deserved to be absolutely happy. Ari found the chance to say so, in the way of welcoming everyone officially.

“This is all Sam’s doing, all this place. He’s worked so hard. How do you like the new wing?”

That was a set-up question. Of course they all had to say yes, and Sam blushed, and looked at Maria, and Maria looked at him with a little blush of her own, adoring, so sweet it was acutely embarrassing.

At least she didn’t need to single Maria out for a special introduction: most present knew Maria, and Sam took care to introduce her to anyone else in range, even Patrick, who hastily wiped crumbs from his fingers—on his coat—and extended a hand. “This is Maria Wilkins-Teague,” Sam said, beaming. “She’s from the AG wing. This is Patrick Emory. He’s Sera Ariane Emory’s cousin.”

Wilkins-Teague. Freckles and curious mixed-color eyes, mostly green. Ari had only rarely met the name of Teague, more often the Wilkinses. Definitely not one of the Families of Reseune, not at all common names in the CIT lists, which repeated a great deal. But Maria had never even had a security reprimand, not from her very outdoor childhood. And she didn’t wipe her fingers on her skirt.

Sam made his way across the room to pay his respects officially, did so: “Ari, you know Maria.”

“Of course,” she said. “So glad you’ll be a neighbor, Maria.” And Maria blushed brighter than Sam and said, softly, with, God help her, a kind of little curtsey. “Thank you, sera. Thank you so much.”

“My pleasure,” she’d said. “Anyone Sam likes is all right. I’d be jealous if Sam wasn’t my brother. You’ve got a good one in him.”

“I know I have,” Maria said, and hesitated over an offered tray of pricey imported cheese and crackers while Sam asked Ari matter-of-factly how the tank plumbing and water system was working.

“Fine,” Ari said. “Absolutely not a glitch.” Which showed where Sam’s mind was today, besides Maria. He was looking around, up and down, seeing all the forms and the conduits and the works of the place, and he just wanted everything he’d done to work right, all the switches and all the plumbing.

She loved him tremendously for that. And Maria had finally taken a peppery piece from the tray and now looked as if the taste wasn’t at all what she wanted. Ari pretended not to notice, and Sam, with finesse, simply took it in his big hand and ate it on his way, hooking Maria’s arm, as it proved, to show Maria the workings of the electronic glass, which switched on and off in the next moments.

Ari wended her own way over to the olders. “How do you find your apartments?” she asked in general.

“Big,” Yanni said, in Yanni’s way. “My furniture’s kind of swallowed up.”

“But is it all right?”

“Nice,” was Yanni’s answer. “The garden’s infested with fast little things. They ate one of the bugs. I take it they take care of themselves. Where does the shit go? Or are we supposed to clean it?”

She was amused. “There’ll be maintenance, Yanni. Trust me.”

“You don’t need my beetle, now, do you?”

She kissed him on the cheek. “It’s in my study,” she said, “holding down my important papers, right along with Giraud’s butterfly. And I will never, never in my life think he’s superfluous.”

“Go on with you,” Yanni said. “Carry on this way and there’ll be talk.”

She laughed, moved on, and snagged Justin’s arm next—in such a happy mood she went up on tiptoe and kissed Justin’s cheek, next. “You’re a dear,” she said. Justin had tried to turn, but she held fast.

“A dear, am I? That old?”

“Not nearly too old,” she said, and caught Grant’s arm on the other side, and walked them both to the waterfall hall, where there was a bit more room, and the sunset sky overhead. “I absolutely meant what I wrote in the note. I want my lessons. I need them, understand, I really desperately need them right now.”

“Is my father behaving himself?”

The designs Jordan was doing, Justin meant. “He’s dropped a bug in. Naturally. It went back. Naturally. I’m sure he’ll clean that out and add another one.” It was funny, and it wasn’t. She didn’t kiss Grant. She hugged his arm hard. “You take care of each other, hear me? It may be chancy in the next few years. I proved who I was in court, but a court ruling is one thing. By the time certain people figure out that I really am what the law says I am, I’m going to be in charge. I’m in charge of this wing, in a way I wasn’t ever, in Wing One. And this wing is coming alive, tonight. Reseune is going to know Base One is active again, not just tiptoeing around the edges. It can snatch control. It can lock out any other Base, just the way it did. I laid it down for a while, so far as people know, but it’s up and running full bore now. And as of tonight, Yanni’s still Director, but every operation in Reseune, down to the electronics on the precip towers, and the off-ons in the birth labs, they’re all reachable, if I want to reach them. It’s been true all along—I think you’ve suspected so. But now everybody in Reseune will know it. They’ll know it in the town tomorrow and I give it twenty-four more hours before it’s all over Novgorod and Planys.” She hugged Justin’s arm. “Your father will know it, right along with everybody else, and he’s likely to be upset, but I don’t want to upset him. I’m glad I’m working with him. It gives him an outlet for his frustration. Is that all right with you?”

“Fine,” was Justin’s answer, very proper, very quiet, and never quite looking at her.

“Justin, you’re not mad at me. Please say you’re not upset.”

He didn’t answer glibly, or at once. “Truthers running?”

“No,” she said. He looked at her then, quite soberly.

“I’m not upset. It’s a beautiful apartment. More than we earn, by a long shot. I just hope we won’t get a hell of a bill one of these days…in the physical or the metaphysical sense.”

“No,” she said. “You never will. Not that I have any control over. You paid it. All those years, you certainly paid for it. What you’ll do in future will pay for it. Don’t doubt that.”

“I want to design sets,” he said. “I’m a designer. That’s what I trained to be. I like doing that.”

“No doubt of it,” she said. “You and Grant—both. You’re going to do pretty well what you want to do. Teach me for another year. Maybe two. There are projects coming. Things on the drawing board that mean I need your advice. What you do—what you do is going to matter in the universe. And you’re
not
going to be wondering when the next security panic comes through. If it does, they’ll be protecting
you
.”

“That would certainly be a novelty” Justin said.

“No question of that,” Grant said.

“You’ve got what I gave you.”

“Yes,” Justin said, touching his coat pocket. “Does everybody have them?”

“No,” she said, the truth. “Do you like the apartment?”

“It’s not black and white,” Justin said, humor restored, and that made her happy.

“Lessons on Monday next?”

“Lessons Monday next. We still have to search up our office.”

Humor definitely back. She grinned and hugged his arm and Grant’s, and slipped free, happy, finally, because everybody was all right. For once, everybody was.

Then Florian turned up in her path, with a very businesslike look. “Sera,” Florian said.

Catlin was there, too.

And the happiness took a dive. Instantly. Florian’s eyes traveled further down the hall, where it became private, in front of the security office, and she went there with him.

Florian said, “Sera, there was a bombing at Strassenberg.”

“At
Strassenberg
.” She was utterly floored. “What damage?”

“The precip tower’s down.”

“Damn.” It didn’t make sense. Strassenberg wasn’t a place anybody went. Yet. Except for the construction crew, the transport people, and a handful of sniffer pigs and handlers. “Anybody hurt?”

“Reports are still coming in,” Catlin said. “A perimeter alarm went off. ReseuneSec reports the alarm triggered was between the port and the barracks. Somebody attempted approach. They thought it was a platythere: they scrambled to deal with that. Then the tower came down.”

“No need to disturb the party, sera,” Florian said, “at this point. There is a general shutdown of perimeters, a search in progress, but it’s believed they got in by river, overland, not by using the port. ReseuneSec’s placed Reseune and Reseune Township on yellow alert; they have river patrols out, looking for the landing site. They re diverting flights to Moreyville.”

Strassenberg was several hundred klicks upriver, still in Reseune Administrative Territory. It was a long stretch of river to try to find anything human-sized—even a small boat. Reseune itself, on yellow alert, sat isolated in the midst of a no-fly zone, surrounded by hundreds of kilometers of unbreathable atmosphere and antagonistic flora and fauna. The Novaya Volga ran along its shore; it had an airport. Those were the two most likely approaches for trouble to take. Overland was too much work. But—

She saw, down the hall, Yanni and Frank, in process of leaving.

She went that way. Yanni delayed for her at the front door, by the waterfall.

“I heard.” she said. “Yanni, can I help?”

“I’ll handle it,” Yanni said. “Just carry on. We’re not going to make a big thing of it. Natural gas explosion. That’s what we’ll say.”