Cyteen

"Yes, ser." The damned monitor beeped and stopped as he got control of his pulse-rate. "What about Justin? Please."

Ivanov patted his shoulder again and got up and went to the door and opened it.

It was Justin who came in. The monitor fluttered and steadied and went silent again; and Grant looked at him through a shimmering film. Jordan was there too. Both of them. And he was terribly ashamed.

"Are you all right?" Justin asked.

"I'm fine," he said, and lost control of the monitor again, and of his blinking, which spilled tears down his face. "I guess I'm in a lot of trouble."

"No," Justin said, and came and gripped his hand, hard, saying different things with his face. The monitor fluttered and quieted again. "It's all right. It was a damn fool stunt. But you're coming back to the House. Hear?"

"Yes."

Justin bent over and hugged him, restraints and all. And drew back. Jordan came and did the same, held him by the shoulders and said:

"Just answer their questions. All right?"

"Yes, ser," he said. "Can you make them let me go?"

"No," Jordan said. "It's for your safety. All right?" Jordan kissed him on the forehead. He had not done that since he was a small boy. "Get some sleep. Hear? Whatever tape you get, I'll vet. Personally."

"Yes, ser," he said.

And lay there and watched Jordan and Justin go out the door.

The monitor beeped in panic.

He was lost. He had hell to go through before he got out of this place. He had looked at Justin's face past Jordan's shoulder and seen hell enough right there.

Where was I? What really happened to me? Have I ever left this place?

A nurse came in, with a hypo, and there was no way to argue with it. He tried to quiet the monitor, tried to protest.

"Just a sedative," the nurse said, and shot it off against his arm.

Or Jeffrey had. He went reeling backward and forward and saw the blood spatter the white wall, heard people yelling.

xii

"Good enough?" Ari asked Justin, in her office. Alone.

"When can he get out?"

"Oh," Ari said, "I don't know. I really don't know. Like I don't know now about the bargain we worked out—which seems rather moot, right now, doesn't it? What coin have you left to trade in?"

"My silence."

"Sweet, you have a lot to lose if you break that silence. So does Jordan. Isn't that why we're doing all this?"

He was trembling. He tried not to show it. "No, we're doing this because you don't want your precious project blown. Because youdon't want publicity right now. Because you've got a lot to lose. Otherwise you wouldn't be this patient."

A slow smile spread on Ari's lips. "I like you, boy, I really rather like you. Loyalty's the rarest thing in Reseune. And you have so much of it. What if I gave you Grant, untouched, unaltered? What's he worth to you?"

"It's possible," Justin said, in a measured, careful tone, "you can misjudge how far you can push me."

"What's he worth?"

"You release him. You don't run tape on him."

"Sweet, he's a little confused. He's been through hell. He needsrest and treatment."

"I'll see he gets it. Jordan will. I'm telling you; don't push me too far. You don't know what I'd do."

"Oh, sweet, I know what you can do. A lot of it really exquisite. And I don't have to deal with you about Grant at all. I have some very different kind of tapes. Your father would die, he would outright die."

"Maybe you underestimate him."

"Oh? Have you told him? —I thought not. You have to understand the situation, you see. It's not just his son. It's not 'some woman.' You're his twin. It's me,Ari Emory. Not mentioning the azi." She chuckled softly. "It's a marvelously good try, it really is. I respect that. I respect it enough to give you a little latitude. Come here, boy. Come here."

She held out her hand. He hesitated in confusion and finally held out his own within her reach. She took it gently, and his nerves jumped, his pulse fluttered and a flush came over his skin, confusing all his thinking.

He did not jerk away. He did not dare. He could not formulate a sarcasm. His mind was darting too fast in a dozen directions, like something small and panicked.

"You want a favor? You want Grant back? I'll tell you what, sweet: you just go on cooperating and we'll just make that our private little deal. If you and I get along till your father goes, if you keep your mouth shut, I'll make him a present to you."

"You're using deep-tape."

"On you? Nothing to really bend your mind. What do you think, that I can take a normal, healthy mind and redesign it? You've been reading too many of those books. The tapes I used with you—are recreational. They're what the Mu-class azi get, when they're really, really good. You think you can't stand them? You think they've corrupted you? Reseune will do worse than that, sweet, and I can teach you. I told you: I likeyou. Someday you'll be a power in Reseune—here, or Fargone, or wherever. You've got the ability. I'd really like to see you survive."

"That's a lie."

"Is it? It doesn't matter." She squeezed his fingers. "I'll see you at my place. Same time. Hear?"

He drew his hand back.

"It's not like I don't give you a choice." She smiled at him. "All you have to do is keep things quiet. That's not much, for as much as you're asking. You make my life tranquil, sweet, and stand between me and Jordan, and I won't have his friends arrested, and I won't do a mindwipe on Grant. I'll even stop giving you hell in the office. You know what the cost is, for all those transfers you want."

"You sign Grant over to me."

"Next week. In case something comes up. You're such a clever lad. You understand me. Make it 2200 this evening. I'm working late."

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