He couldn’t stand it a moment longer.
“Grant.”
Keystrokes stopped. “Mmm?”
“Did you chance to look at that card?”
“It wasn’t chance.”
Heartbeat bumped. Leave it to Grant. “What was on it?” he asked.
“A number.”
“What number?”
“It had the form of a personal number. I recall it. Do you want me to find out?” Grant asked.
“No,” he said, and made a sudden decision: he didn’t want Grant involved, didn’t want to be on record doing anything furtive. “No, Iwill.”
He windowed up the message function and shot a query out straight to Ari’s security office address. WHAT WAS ON THE CARD JORDAN GAVE ME? DO YOU KNOW?
The answer came back fairly quickly. A CONTACT NUMBER AT THE UNIVERSITY IN NOVGOROD. A WOMAN NAMED SANDI PATIL. DO YOU KNOW THAT PERSON?
He typed: NOT A CLUE.
The answer came back, under Ari’s household ID, no further name telling who he was talking to: SENIOR LECTURER WITH A SPECIALITY IN BIONANISTICS. THERE IS NO APPARENT CONNECTION WITH JORDAN. WHAT IS YOUR THEORY?
His heart began a series of labored beats, old familiar fear, of a flavor he’d known for all the bad years, the twenty years when the Nyes had run Reseune. He typed: IS THIS FLORIAN?
–CATLIN, SER. MY QUESTION?
–I HAVE NO IDEA WHY HE WOULD GIVE ME THAT NUMBER. I DON’T KNOW THIS WOMAN. I HAVE NOTHING TO DO WITH HER FIELD. HER FIELD HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH MY FATHER’S, EITHER, AS I’M SURE YOU’RE WELL AWARE.
Grant had gotten out of his chair, and leaned over to see the screen. Set a hand on his shoulder. His heart beat harder and harder, the old instincts awake and alert.
–WE DON’T KNOW THE REASON OF THIS CONTACT, SER, OR OF HIS GIVING IT TO YOU. BUT THE RESTRICTED MILITARY NATURE OF THE PROFESSOR’S RESEARCH URGES CAUTION.
Bionanistics. God. Manufacturing? Genetic machines? Experimental, self‑replicating life? Military secrecy?
–I HAVE NO IDEA,he typed. HE’S NEVER MENTIONED ANY SUCH CONTACT TO ME.
–WHAT WOULD YOU HAVE DONE WITH THE NOTE IF YOU WERE WELL‑DISPOSED TO OBEY YOUR FATHER AT THE TIME?
Thump. Thump‑thump. I SUPPOSE I WOULD HAVE LOOKED UP THE NUMBER. MAYBE I’D HAVE CALLED THIS PERSON IN NOVGOROD IF I WERE A TOTAL FOOL AND WANTED TO KNOW WHAT IT MEANT OR WHERE IT LED. I’M NOT A FOOL. AND I’D HOPE MY FATHER KNOWS I’M NOT. I’M NOT INTERESTED IN HIS OLD BUSINESS, WHATEVER IT IS, AND I THINK HE KNOWS THAT, TOO.He added that last sentence and felt like a traitor, for reasons not entirely well‑defined. He manipulated azi minds for a living–and his own motivations eluded him. There damned sure wasn’t any connection of experience with Jordan left for him, nothing but an identical biology. CATLIN, I’M ENTIRELY UPSET BY THIS SITUATION.
–UNDERSTANDABLE,came the answer. SO YOU HAVE NO INCLINATION TO PURSUE THE INFORMATION.
–NONE WHATSOEVER,he answered back.
–BE AWARE THAT INFORMATION OR DEVICES INVOLVING DR. PATIL COULD PASS IN FORMS VERY DIFFICULT TO DETECT. TAKE PRECAUTIONS IN ANY FUTURE DEALINGS WITH YOUR FATHER, WITH THIS IN MIND.
–I TAKE THE WARNING. THANK YOU.
Catlin signed off. He did. He felt sick. He didn’t move. He felt the pressure of Grant’s fingers, and finally got up from the chair, knowing, damn them all, that everything he said was being recorded, watched, parsed, combed through.
“Security’s upset. I can’t blame them. Nanistics. They don’t want the experimental stuff on a planet…particularly the one we happen to live on. Particularly the one the radicals have wanted to terraform for the last century or so. Damn. Damn. Damn it, Grant. I don’t want any part of this. What is he doing to me? What does he think he’s doing?”
Grant shook his head slowly, helplessly. “Logic tells me he wants you involved with him in his situation. Beyond that–”
It hit like a hammer blow. He could have said it himself ten times, even thought it himself, and not heard it quite the same way, but from Grant, in that calm, reasoned way Grant struggled to navigate CIT emotional insanity, it made utter, reasonable sense. Jordan wasn’t azi. Neither he nor Jordan had, as Grant liked to put it, their logic‑set at the foundation of their reasoning. No. They were born‑men, and born‑men grew up by chance, not by tape‑study. Emotions ruled their actions, foundational, and inescapable. Flux‑thinking at its finest.
Jordan had created him out of his own geneset and Jordan had lost him. Lost him to Ari, who had done things to Jordan’s work that Jordan couldn’t counter, and the new Ari was co‑opting him out of Jordan’s reach.
“The government didn’t kill him for killing Ari,” he said aloud, to Grant’s worried look. “they could only exile him. So he figures whatever he does, exile’s the worst that will ever happen to him. He created me. He wants me back. He’s making his best play.”
“To get you on the outs with Yanni.”
“To get us allsent to Planys, where he ranhis own little world.” Things clicked, just clicked, all of a sudden. “It might have been a prison, but he ran it, inside, and Ari ripped him out of it and brought him here to put him under what he sees as close house arrest. He’s not grateful for it, not once he got here and saw the way things are: he’s damned pissed. He wants me to break with Ari. He wants to create a situation. I don’t know who this Patil is, or how Jordan got that number, but Patil isn’t really the game…”
BOOK ONE Section 2 Chapter vi
APRIL 26, 2424
1659H
“…it’s him. Maybe he hates Patil. Or maybe there’s something actually going on, and he doesn’t give a damn about it, because they’re trying to use him–the old radicals–hell, I don’t know how they could have gotten to him, but he won’t play anybody else’s game. Just his own, always his own, the hell with anybody else.”
Interesting observation, Ari thought, sitting beside Catlin at the eon‑sole. The audio clip ran to its conclusion:
“Will you go to Yanni?”Grant had asked.
And Justin: “I’m going to give Catlin another phone call. I’m not taking this. I’m not taking this from him. He wants us back under suspicion, he wants us arrested, he wants me upset, he’ll make himself the martyr, so we both get sent to Planys, back to his private kingdom, and he has years to work on us… Damn it. Grant, you’re right.”
“ Didhe call you?” Ari asked, when the clip ended.
“Yes,” Catlin said, with a nod. “He did. He said–” She keyed another clip, listened, then made it audible.
“…he doesn’t give a damn about this Dr. Patil. He’s after me. He wants to get me at odds with admin and better yet, get us all sent back to Planys, where he has a base.”
“ Why would he pick Dr. Patil?” recorded‑Catlin asked.
“ I’ve no idea. An outside and problematic contact he once had. Somebody he didn’t really know and doesn’t care about. Maybe somebody he hates. I just don’t know.”
Catlin stopped the clip.
“Jordan Warrick is a very interesting person,” Ari said. “And now Justin’s quite angry at him. Jordan’s supposed to be good at Working. Very good. I wonder if he intended all he got from Justin.”
“Warrick Senior’s behavior seems self‑destructive,” Catlin said.
“Not only self‑destructive,” Ari said. “He’d gladly take us with him. He seems to want things back the way they were before I was born, and he’s bound to be frustrated with me.”