Текст книги "Cyteen "
Автор книги: C. J. Cherryh
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Текущая страница: 48 (всего у книги 61 страниц)
Damnit, get the pulse rate down.
Get out of here tonight. Get home. That's the important thing now.
The door opened. Wojkowski again.
"How are we doing?" she asked.
"We're madder than hell," he said with exaggerated pleasantness, and sat up on the table, smiled at Wojkowski, trying not to let the pulse run wild, doggedly thinking of flowers. Of river water. "I'm missing patches of skin and my dignity is, I'm sure, not a prime concern here. But that's all right."
"Mmmn," Wojkowski said, and set a hypogun down on the counter, looking at the record. "I'm going to give you a prescription I want you to take, and we'll check you over again when you come in for your second treatment. See if we can do something about that blood pressure."
"You want to know what you can do about the blood pressure?"
"Do yourself a favor. Take the prescription. Don't take kat more than twice a week—are you taking aspirin?"
"Occasionally."
"How regularly?"
"It's in the—"
"Please."
"Two, maybe four a week."
"That's all right. No more than that. If you get headaches, see me. If you have any light-headedness, see me immediately. If you get a racing pulse, same."
"Of course. – Do you know what goes on in the House, doctor? —Or on this planet, for that matter?"
"I'm aware of your situation. All the same, avoid stress."
"Thanks. Thanks so much, doctor."
Wojkowski walked over with the hypo. He shed the robe off one shoulder and she wiped the area down. The shot popped against his arm and hurt like hell.
He looked and saw a bloody mark.
"Damn, that's—"
"It's a gel implant. Lasts four weeks. Go home. Go straight to bed. Drink plenty of liquids. The first few implants may give you a little nausea, a little dizziness. If you break out in a rash or feel any tightening in the chest, call the hospital immediately. You can take aspirin for the arm. See you in August."
There was a message in the House system, wailing for him when he got to the pharmacy. My office. Ari Emory.
She did not use her Wing One office. She had said so. She had a minimal clerical staff there to handle her House system clerical work, and that was all.
But she was waiting there now. Her office. Ari senior's office. He walked through the doors with Grant, faced a black desk he remembered, where Florian sat—with a young face, a grave concern as he got up and said: "Grant should wait here, ser. Sera wants to see you alone."
The coffee helped his nerves. He was grateful that Ari had made it for him, grateful for the chance to collect himself, in these surroundings, with Ari behind Ari senior's desk—not a particularly grandiose office, not even so much as Yanni's. The walls were all bookcases and most of the books in them were manuals. Neat. That was the jarring, surreal difference. Ari's office had always had a little clutter about it and the desk was far too clean.
The face behind it—disturbing in its similarities and disturbing in its touch of worry.
Past and future.
"I got your message," Ari said. "I went to Denys. That didn't do any good. We had a fight. The next thing I did was call Ivanov. He didn't do any good. The next thing I could do, I could call Family council. And past that I can file an appeal with the Science Bureau and the Council in Novgorod. Which is real dangerous—with all the stuff going on."
He weighed the danger that would be, and knew the answer, the same as he had known it when he was lying on the table.
"There could be worse," he said. His arm had begun to ache miserably, all the way to the bone, and he felt sick at his stomach, so that he felt his hands likely to shake. It was hard to think at all.
But the Family council would stand with Denys and Giraud, even yet, he thought; and that might be dangerous, psychologically, to Ari's ability to wield authority in future, if she lost the first round.
An appeal to the Bureau opened up the whole Warrick case history. That was what Ari was saying. Opened the case up while people were bombing subways and using Jordan's name, while the Defense election was in doubt, and Ari was too young to handle some of the things that could fall out of that land of struggle—involving her predecessor's murderer.
They might win if it got to Bureau levels—but they might not. The risk was very large, while the gain was—minimal.
"No," he said. "It's not a matter of pills. It's one of the damn slow-dissolving gels, and they'd have the devil's own time getting the stuff cleared out."
"Damn! I should have come there. I shouldhave called Council and stopped it—"
"Done is done, that's all. They say what they're giving us is something new; no color fade, no brittle bones. That kind of thing. I wouldlike to get the literature on it before I say a final yes or no about a protest over what they've done. If it's everything Dr. Wojkowski claims—it's not worth the trouble even that would cause. If it costs what they say it does—it's not a detriment; because Icouldn't afford it. I only suspect it has other motives—because I can'tafford it, and that means they can always withhold it."
Her face showed no shock. None. "They're not going to do that."
"I hope not."
"I got the tape," she said.
And sent his pulse jolting so hard he thought he was going to throw up. It was the pain, he thought. Coffee mingled with the taste of blood in his mouth, where they had taken their sample from the inside of his cheek. He was not doing well at all. He wanted to be home, in bed, with all his small sore spots; the arm was hurting so much now he was not sure he could hold the cup with that hand.
"She—" Ari said, "she went through phases—before she died—that she had a lot of problems. I know a lot of things now, a lot of things nobody wanted to tell me. I don't want that ever to happen. I've done the move—you and Grant into my wing. Yanni says thank God. He says he's going to kill you for the bill at Changes."
He found it in him to laugh a little, even if it hurt.
"I told uncle Denys you were going on my budget and he was damn well going to increase it. And I had him about what he did to you, so he didn't argue; and I put your monthly up to ten witha full medical, andyour apartment paid, for you and Grant both."
"My God, Ari."
"It's enough you can pay a staffer to do the little stuff, so you don't have to and Grant doesn't have to. It's a waste of your time. It's a lot better for Reseune to have you on research—and teaching me.Denys didn't say a thing. He just signed it. As far as I'm concerned, my whole wing is research. Grant doesn't have to do clinical stuff unless he wants to."
"He'll be—delighted with that."
Ari held up a forefinger. "I'm not through. I asked uncle Denys why you weren't doctorwhen you'd gotten where Yanni couldn't teach you anymore, and he said because they didn't want you listed with the Bureau, because of politics. I said that was lousy. Uncle Denys—when he pushes you about as far as he thinks he can get away with, and you push back, you can get stuff out of him as long as you don't startle him. Anyway, he said if we got through the election in Defense, then they'd file the papers."
He stared at her, numb, just numb with the flux. "Is that all right, what I did?" she asked, suddenly looking concerned. Like a little kid asking may-I.
"It's—quite fine. —Thank you, Ari."
"You don't look like you feel good."
"I'm fine." He took a deep breath and set the cup down. "Just a lot of changes, Ari. And they took some pieces out of me."
She got up from behind the desk and came and carefully, gently hugged his shoulders—the sore one sent a jolt through to the bone. She kissed him very gently, very tenderly on the forehead. "Go home," she said. Her perfume was all around him.
But through the pain, he thought it quite remarkable her touch made not a twitch—no flashback, nothing for the moment, though he knew he was not past them. Maybe he escaped it for the moment because it hurt so much, maybe because for a moment he was emotionally incapable of reacting to anything.
She left, and he heard her tell Florian he should walk with them and make sure they got home all right, and get them both to bed and take care of them till they felt better.
Which sounded, at the moment, like a good idea.
xii
B/1: Ari, this is Ari senior.
You've asked about Reseune administration.
My father set it up: James Carnath. He had, I'm told, a talent for organization. Certainly my mother Olga Emory had no interest in the day to day management of details.
Even the day to day management of her daughter, but that's a different file.
I mention that because I fit somewhere in between: I've always believed in a laissez-faire management, meaning that as long as I was running Reseune, I believed in knowing what was going on in the kitchens, occasionally, in the birth-labs, occasionally, in finance, always.
An administrator of a facility like Reseune has special moral obligations which come at the top of the list: a moral obligation to humankind, the azi, the public both local and general, the specific clients, and the staff, in approximately that order.
Policies regarding genetic or biological materials; or psychological techniques and therapies are the responsibility of the chief administrator, and decisions in those areas must never be delegated.
Emphatically, the administrator should seek advice from wing supervisors and department heads. All other decisions and day to day operations can be trusted to competent staff.
I devised a routine within the House system coded MANAGEINDEX which may or may not be in use. Go to Executive 1 and ask for it, and it will tell you the expenses, output, number of reprimands logged, number of fines, number of requests for transfer, number of absences, medical leaves, work-related accidents, anti-management complaints, and security incidents for any individual, group of individuals, office, department, or wing in Reseune, and use that data to evaluate the quality of management and employees on any level. It can do comparisons of various wings and departments or select the most efficient managers and employees in the system.
It will also run a confidential security check on any individual, including a covert comparison of lifestyle data with income and output.
It operates without leaving a flag in the system.
Remember that it is a tool to be used in further inquiry and interview, and it is not absolutely reliable. Personal interviews are always indicated.
I was a working scientist as well as chief Administrator, which I found to be generally a fifteen-hour-a-day combination. A pocket com and an excellent staff kept me apprised of situations which absolutely required my intervention, and this extended to my research as well as my administrative duties. Typically I was in the office as early as 0700, arranged the day's schedule, reviewed the emergencies and ongoing situations via Base One, and put the office in motion as the staff arrived, left on my own work by 0900, and generally made the office again briefly after lunch, whereupon I left again after solving whatever had to be done.
I had a few rules which served me quite well:
I did my own office work while no one was there, which let me work efficiently; I had Florian and Catlin sworn to retrieve me from idle conversations—or from being accosted and handed business. Florian, I would say, handle this. Which usually meant it went to the appropriate department head; but sometimes Florianwould check it out, and advise me personally. As he still does. Now that I'm Councillor for Science, it's much the same kind of thing. I absolutely refuse to be bogged down by lobbyists. That's what my staff is for. And they're to hand me investigative reports with facts and figures; which I then have cross-checked by Reseune security, and finally,finally, if there seems to be substance that interests me, I'll have my full staff meet with the interest group; and I will, if the reports are reasonable—but not in other than a businesslike setting and with a firm time limit for them. It's quite amazing how much time you can waste.
Delegate paperwork. Insist the preparers of reports include a brief summary of content, conclusion and/or recommended action; and that they follow strict models of style: this will appear petty, but I refuse to search a report for information which should have been prominently noted.
Give directions and reprimands early and clearly: an administrator who fails to make his expectations and his rules clear is inefficient; an administrator who expects a subordinate to pick up unspoken displeasure is wasting his time.
Learn a little bit about every operation. On one notorious occasion I showed up in the hospital and spent two hours walking rounds with the nurses. It not only identified problems up and down the line, but the whole MANAGEINDEX of Reseune shifted four points upward in the next two weeks.
Most of all, know your limits and identify those areas in which you are less adept. Do not abdicate authority in those areas: learn them, and be extremely careful of the quality of your department heads.
This program finds you have the rank of: wing supervisor.
You are seventeen years old; you have held your majority for: 1 year, 4 months.
You have a staff of: 6.
You have one department head: Justin Warrick, over Research.
He has a staff of: 2.
This program is running MANAGEINDEX.
There have been 0 complaints and 0 reprimands.
There have been 0 absences on personal leave.
There have been 2 medicals in Research.
Your Research department staff has a total of 187 Security incidents, 185 of which have been resolved. Do you wish breakdown?
AE2: No. I've read the file. None of these occurred in my administration.
B/1: Projects behind schedule: 0.
Projects over budget: 0.
Project demand: 12.
Project output: 18.
Projects ongoing: 3.
Wing expenses, 3 mo. period: C 688,575.31.
Wing earnings, 3 mo. period: C 6,658,889.89.
This wing has the following problems:
1. security flag on: 2 staff in: Research: Justin Warrick, Grant ALX.
2. security watch on: 1 staff in Administration, Ariane Emory.
3. security alert: flag/watch contacts.
Status: Reseune Administration has signed waiver.
Your wing has an overall MANAGEINDEX rating of 4368 out of 5000. MANAGEINDEX congratulates you and your staff and calls your high achievement to the attention of Reseune Administration.
Your staff will receive notification of excellent performance and will receive commendations in permanent file.
xiii
The vote totals ticked by on the top of the screen and Giraud took another drink. "We're going to make it," he said to Abban.
After-dinner drinks in his Novgorod apartment. Private election-watch, with his companion Abban, who very rarely indulged. But Abban's glass had diminished by half since the Pan-paris figures had started coming in. Pan-paris had gone for Khalid in the last election. This time it went for Jacques by a two percent margin.
"It's not over," Abban said, dour as usual. "There's still Wyatt's."
The stars farther off the paths of possible expansion were very chancy electorates for any seat. The garrisons tended to be local, resisting amalgamation into other units, and voted consistently Centrist.
But Pan-paris augured very well. . . coming out of the blind storage on Cyteen Station: the computers spat up the stored results of other stations as Cyteen polls closed simultaneously, on-world and up at Station, and the tallies began to flood in.
"I told you," Giraud finally felt safe to say. "Not even with Gorodin's health at issue. Khalid's far from forming a third party. He certainly can't do it with support eroding inside his own electorate. Then we only have Jacques to worry about."
"Only Jacques," Abban echoed. "Do you think he'll keep a bargain? I don't."
"He'll appoint Gorodin. He knows damn well what reneging on that deal would do for him. All we have to hope is that Gorodin stays alive." He took a drink of his own. "And that he hurries and makes an appearance. Hopehe's not going to wait overlong on proprieties."
The moderate do-nothing Simon Jacques for Councillor; Jacques to appoint Gorodin as Secretary of Defense, then Jacques to resign and appoint Gorodin proxy Councillor, back to his old seat—after which there was bound to be another round with Khalid.
But by then they had to have a viable Expansionist candidate ready to contend with Khalid. The two-year rule applied: meaning Khalid, having lost the election, could not turn around and re-file against the winner until two years had passed; which meant Jacques could hold the seat for two years without much chance of challenge—but if Jacques resigned directly after election, it would be a race to file: whoever filed first, Gorodin or Khalid, could preclude the other from filing because they were each a month short of the end of the prohibition from the election that had put Khalidin: which was sure to mean a Supreme Court ruling on the situation—the rule technically only applying to losers, but creating a window for an appeal on the grounds of legal equity.
That meant it was wiser to leave Jacques in office for as long as the two-year rule made him unassailable—while Gorodin—the health rumors were notfabricated this time—used what time he had to groom a successor of his own . . . because the one thing no one believed was that Gorodin would last the full two years.
A successor whom of courseJacques was going to support. Like hell. Jacques knew himself a figurehead, knew his own financial fortunes were solidly linked with Centrist-linked firms, and the next two years were going to be fierce infighting inside Defense, while Khalid, stripped of his Intelligence post, still had pull enough in the military system to be worrisome. The estimate was that Lu, tainted with the administrative decisions Gorodin's war record to some extent let him survive, had a reputation for side-shifting that did not serve him well in an elected post; and he was old, very old, as it was.
"We're running out of war heroes," Abban said. "Doubtful if Gorodin can find any of that generation fitto serve. This new electorate—I'm not sure they respond to the old issues. That's the trouble."
Seventy years since the war—and the obits of famous names were getting depressingly frequent.
"These young hawks," Giraud said, "they're not an issue, they're a mindset. They're pessimistic, they believe in worst-cases, they feel safe only on the side of perceived strength. Khalid worries me more as an agitator than as a single-electorate hero. He appeals to that type—to the worriers of all electorates, not just the ones who happen to be in Defense. It's always after wars—in times of confusion—or economic low spots, exactly the kind of thing a clever operator like Khalid canfind a base in. There are alarming precedents. Lu would be the best for the seat, still the best for the seat and the best for the times—but this damned electorate won't vote for a man who tells them there are four and five sides to a question. There's too much uncertainty. The electorate doesn't want the truth, it wants answers in line with their thinking."
"One could," Abban said, "simply take a direct solution. I don't understand civs, I especially don't understand civ CITs. In this case the law isn't working. It's insanity to go on following it. Eliminate the problem quietly. Then restore the law." Abban wasa little buzzed. "Take this man Khalid out. I could do it. And no one would find me out."
"A dangerous precedent."
"So is losing—dangerous to your cause."
"No. Politics works. When the Expansionists look strong, these pessimist types vote Expansionist. And they'll turn. We had them once. We can have them again."
"When?" Abban asked.
"We will. I'll tell you: Denys is right. Young Ari's image has been altogether too sweet." Abban's glass was empty. He filled Abban's and topped off his, finishing the bottle. "When our girl took into Khalid in front of the cameras—that threw a lot of Khalid's believers completely off their balance, but you mark me, they blamed the media. Remember they always believe in conspiracies. They weren't willing to accept Ari as anything solid—as anythingthat can guarantee their future. And won't,until she makes them believe it."
"Which alienates the doves."
"Oh, yes. When she went in front of those cameras head to head with Khalid—it was damned dangerous. She pulled it off—but there was a downside. I argued with Denys. Her insistence on bringing Gehenna out public again—I'm sure inflamed the hawks and scared the hell out of a few doves—enough to bring the Paxers out in force. She may have attracted the few peace-pushers who aren't more scared of her than him, and may have lost him a few of his, but she didn't gain any of hispeople. It's Gorodin they're re-electing. Gorodin's an old name, a safe name. They're not about to go with a young girl's opinion. Not the worry-addicts."
More figures ticked by. Widening margin, Jacques' favor.
"I'll tell you what worries me," Giraud said, finally. "Young Warrick. He's going to be very hard to hold. How's our man doing—the one with the Planys contact?"
"Proceeding."
"We document it, we find some convenient link to the Rocher gang or the Paxers and that's all we need. Or we create one. I want you to look into that."
"Good."
"We need to leave the Centrists with very embarrassing ties– There have to be ties. That will keep Corain busy. Andkeep young Warrick quiet, if he has any sense at all."
"Direct solutions there are just as possible," Abban said.
"Oh, no. Jordie Warrick himself can be quite a help. We keep putting off the travel passes. Start a security scandal at Planys airport. That should do. Leak the business about young Warrick going on rejuv. Our Jordie's damned clever. Just keep the pressure on, and he'll get reckless—he'll throw something to the Centrists; and our man just funnels it straight to the Paxers. Then we just turn the lights on—and watch them run for cover."
"And youngWarrick?"
"Denys wants to salvage him. I think it's lunacy. At least he took my advice—in the case we havea problem. The Paxers have handed us a beautiful issue. The doves hate them because they're violent—the hawks hate them for the lunacy they stand for. Let our Ari discover the Paxers are plotting to kill her, and that Jordan Warrick is involved with them; and watch those instincts turn on in a hurry. Watch her image shift then—on an issue of civil violence and plots. Absolutely the thing we need. Attract the peace-party andthe hawks—and cultivate enemies that can only do her political good."
"Mark me,young Warrick is a danger in that scenario."
"Ah. But we've been very concerned with his welfare. Planning for his long life. Giving him rejuv puts that all on record, doesn't it? And if Ari's threatened—she'll react. If Jordan's threatened—so will young Warrick jump. You give me the incident I need, and watch the pieces fall. And watch our young woman learn a valuable lesson." A moment he stared at the screen and sipped at the wine. "I'll tell you, Abban: you know this: she matters to me. She'smy concern. Reseune is. Damned if Jordie Warrick's son is going to have a voice in either. Damned if he is."
Cyteen Station results flashed up, lopsided. "That's it," Abban said. "He's got it now."
"Absolutely. I told you. Jacques is in."
xiv
Catlin brought sera coffee in the home office, while sera was feeding the guppies in the little tank she had moved in from the garden-room—sera was quite, quite calm, doing that: it seemed to makeher calm, sometimes, a sort of focus-down. Catlin could figure that. She also knew that it was a bad time, sera was waiting for answers from a protest she had filed with Administration; sera—outward evidence to the contrary—was in a terrible temper, not the time that Catlin wanted at all to deal with her. But she tried.
"Thank you," sera said, taking the mug and setting it on the edge of the desk, and fussing with the net and a bit of floating weed.
Sera never even looked her way. After a while Catlin decided sera was deliberately ignoring her, or was just thinking hard, and turned and walked out again.
Or started to walk out. Catlin got as far as the hall, and found herself facing her partner's distressed, exasperated look.
So Catlin stopped, drew a large breath, and went back to stand beside sera's desk, doggedly determined that sera should notice.
She had, she thought, rather have run a field under fire.
"What is it?" sera said suddenly, breaking her concentration.
"Sera, —I need to talk to you. About the Planys thing. Florian said—I was the one who heard. So it's mine to say."
It took a moment, sometimes, for sera to come back when she was really thinking, and especially when she was mad, and she brought some of that temper back with her. Because she was so smart, Catlin thought, because she was thinking so hard she was almost deep-studying, except she was doing it from the inside.
But that was a keyword—Planys. That was precisely what sera was mad about; and sera came right back, instantly, and fixed on her.
"What aboutPlanys?"
Catlin clenched her hands. You'rebest at explaining things, she had objected to Florian. But Florian had said: You're the one heard it, youshould tell it.
Because Florian came to pieces when it came to a fight with sera.
And it could.
"This Paxer group in Novgorod," she began.
There had been another subway bombing in Novgorod. Twenty people killed, forty-eight injured.
"What's thatto do with Planys airport?"
"In security. They're—" She never could go through things without detail. She never knew what to leave out with a CIT, even sera, so she decided to dive straight to the heart of it. "Sera, they're pretty sure there is some kind of contact. The Pax group—they're the violent part. But there's a group called the Committee for Justice—"
"I've heard about them."
"There's overlap. Security is saying that's definite. One is the other, in a major way. They're doing stickers in Novgorod, you understand—someone just walks through a subway car and puts one up. Most of them say Committee for Justice. Or Free Jordan Warrick. But a few of them say No Eugenics and Warrick Was Right."
Sera frowned.
"It's very serious," Catlin said. "Security is terribly worried."
"I understand how serious it is, dammit. —What does this have to do with Planys airport security?"
"It's complicated."
"Explain it. I'm listening. Give me all the details. Whatdoes Security know?"
"The Novgorod police know the Paxer explosives are homemade. That's first. There's probably just a handful of people—real Paxers—in Novgorod. The police are pretty sure they're a front for Rocher. But they can't find Rocher. So they're sure he's living on somebody else's card. That's not hard to do. Nothing's hard to do, when there are that many people all crowded up in one place. There's probably a lot of connection between the Committee and the Paxers and Rocher—everybody. So the Novgorod police got the Cyteen Bureau to get Union Internal Affairs on it, on the grounds it's a problem that crosses the boundaries between Reseune and—"
"I know Reseune Security is on the case. But tell it your way."
"—and Cyteen. Which lets the Justice Bureau call on us to help the Novgorod police. They can't do the kind of stuff we'd like to—Novgorod is just too big. The police are talkingabout card-accesses on every subway gate, but that just means they'll always have somebody else's keycard, and they'll kill people to get them. A lot of things they could do to stop the bombings are real expensive, and they'd slow everybody down and make them take hours getting to and from work. They say Cyteen Station is getting real nervous and they aredoing keycard checks and print-locks and all of that. So they've decided the only real way to get the Paxers is to infiltrate them. So they have. You just send somebody inside and you get good IDs and you start searching the keycard systems on thosemarkers and you start taking a few of them out, you aggravate whatever feuds you find—make them fight each other and keep increasing your penetrations until you can figure their net out. That'sthe way they're working it."
"You mean you know they're already doing it."
Catlin nodded. "I'm not supposed to know. But yes, sera, they are. And they know the airports are one of the places where some of the illegal stuff they get is getting through security, and that's how it's going to spread outsideNovgorod, which is what the rumor is. That there's going to be a hit somewhere else. That'swhat's going on out there."
"They're not grounding traffic, are they?"
"No, sera. People don't know it's going on. They don't need to know. But they're most worried about Planys and Novgorod. Novgorod because it's biggest and there's the shuttleport. And Planys because they think there's a problem there."
Sera closed the lid on the tank and laid the net down. "Go on. Take your time."
"They're terribly worried," Catlin said. "Sera, they're not talking about Jordan Warrick in the posters. It's against you.People are scared about the subways. That's the Paxers' job. People aren't being very smart. They have all these signs to tell them to watch about people leaving packages, and there's a rumor out that the police have installed this kind of electronics at the subway gates that'll blow any explosives up when it passes through that point, but that's not so. People are calling the city offices and asking about more ped-ways, but that's stupid—you can leave a package in a ped-tunnel that can kill just as many people. So all they can do is put up with it, but people are getting really upset, that's what they're saying, and when they're upset enough, the Committee comes out more and agitates with some lie they'll make up about you when they need it. They're not sure even this isn't something Khalid's behind, but that's just something Security wishes they could prove. But that'swhy they're doing all this stuff with the airports, and that's why Justin can't get a pass. And that's not the worst, sera. There issomebody who's getting stuff in and out of Planys. It's connected to Jordan Warrick. That's what's going on. That's why they're stopping Justin and Grant from going there."
