Cyteen

If a deal could be worked out, if a compromise could be made. Nye was damned sharp. He had to start all over learning his signals the way he had learned Emory's. The man was a cipher, an unknown quantity out of a territory none of his observers could penetrate. Only Warrick. And Warrick was lost to them. That much was clear.

Things were different in Union. From the time that pipe in the laboratory had exploded, the course of history had shifted.

They were entering a period in which the Centrist party might make rapid gains, if they could avoid getting bogged down in wrangling that won no one anything and would not unseat the Expansionists.

The Rubin project and the Fargone project were presumably on hold. The Hope project might be funded, but further expansions and colonizations might be subject to more intense debate. One could look forward to a period of adjustment inside Reseune as well as out, while personalities inside Reseune held in check during the nearly sixty years of Emory's autocratic regime (there was no question who in Reseune had directed the director even after she had resigned the post) were likely to break out and grab for power within the administrative structure.

That also went for other alliances, like those on Council.

Ludmilla deFranco was a freshman Councillor. Nye would be. Powerful Science . . . was going to have a novice at the helm—a damned smart one, but still, a novice who did not have the network to support him. Yet. Two of the five Expansionists were successors this year and Ilya Bogdanovitch was a hundred thirty-two years old and tottering.

Corain murmured the courtesies, thanked the proxy from Reseune, expressed condolences to the family, and walked out with his mind busy with the possibility, the very real possibility, of a Centrist majority in the Council.

It occurred to him that he had not raised the issue of the terminated azi. Merino's issue. He could hardly go back and do it. In fact, he was reluctant to do it, because very possibly that order had come from Reseune Security, for exactly the reasons Nye gave. It was morally repugnant. But it was not, not quiteas if azi who had served Ariane Emory for most of her hundred and twenty years were harmless. There were, he understood, severe psychological consequences of such a loss; no human reared as CIT could possibly understand the impact of it, except perhaps the staff who routinely worked with azi. He would raise the issue with Warrick. Ask Warrick whether it was warranted. Or whether Warrick thought it had in fact been Emory who had put that instruction in the system.

Damn, he had rather not bring it up at all. The azi were dead. Like Emory. That closed the book. There was no use for that issue; instinct had kept him from raising it.

It was the old proverb. Deal with the devil if the devil has a constituency. And don't complain about the heat.

viii

Adm. Leonid Gorodin settled uncomfortably into the chair and took the offered cup. He had come in to pay the requisite courtesy, and Nye had said: "There's something I have to discuss with you. About the Fargone facility. About the Rubin project. And Hope. Have you got a moment?"

It was not Gorodin's habit to discuss any issue with the opposition or with reporters—without his aides, without references, in an office his own staff had not vetted. But the same instinct for intrigue that said it was dangerous also said it was the one chance he might have without having Corain aware that he was in serious conference with the opposition.

And the names were the names he wanted to hear.

"I truly hate to get to business on the day of Ari's funeral," Nye said. "But there's really no choice. Things can slip out of control so quickly." He took a sip of coffee. "You know I'm going to run for Ari's seat."

"I expected," Gorodin said. "I expect you'll win."

"It's a critical time for us. Ari's death—the potential loss of Warrick on top of it—it's a double blow. Not only to us. To Union. To our national interests. You understand that I have a top-level security clearance. Equal to Ari's. I have to have. I won't ask you for answers; but I amassociated with your projects— I worked with your predecessor during the war—"

"I'm aware you have the clearance. And that you're privy to those files. And you're keeping them out of the investigation."

"Absolutely. No discussion of those files and no interview with a staffer on those projects, except by perso

Gorodin's heart jumped. He wished he had not heard that. There was the likelihood of recorders, and he had to make his reaction clear. "What are you saying?"

"Non-adversary settlement. Warrick did it. He's confessed. The motive was blackmail and sexual harassment. His son, you understand. With a complicated situation that—between you and me—could do the boy great harm. Warrick's deal is simple: a facility where he can continue his work. We won't agree to Fargone. It'll have to be on Cyteen. But I've talked to Corain."

"Already."

"An hour ago. I didn't mention the security aspects of this. We talked politics. You know and I know, admiral, that there are radical elements involved on the fringes of this case. There are people going to be going over the testimony of witnesses that canbe psychprobed, and going over it, and going over it. There are elements of Justin Warrick's testimony that involve the Fargone project, that are going to have to be classified."

"Warrick discussed it with his kid?"

"The motive for the transfer was the boy. Justin Warrick knows—more than he ought to know. If there have been leaks in this, admiral, they've all come from Jordan Warrick. And frankly, if it gets to trial, I'm afraid the threads of motivation—run into some very sensitive areas. But if we black out too much of the transcript, that raises other suspicions—in some minds, —doesn't it?"

"My God, what's your fucking security worth? Who else knows?"

"Very likely the azi that was kidnapped. He's Justin's."

"My God."

"It's not likely that Rocher's boys cracked him. He's Alpha and he's a tape designer—the azi is, understand. Not an easy subject. But there is the possibility that he wasn't aware of having classified information. That's why we went to Lu's office when we needed help breaking him out of there. We needed to get hold of him alive and debrief him, in the case we missed someone. Fortuitously and fortunately, the action took care of the kidnappers. All of them. We think. But we weren't overusing our authority when we told Lu that azi was a security risk. I suppose the rush of events has been too rapid for all of us. Ari was going to send me to the city with the report for Lu. Unfortunately—"

"You don't think there was any possible motivation on Warrick's part, involving the azi and Rocher—"

"When he killed Ari? A crime of anger that didn't start out that way: he hit her, that was all. But when she turned out to be seriously injured he realized he'd just killed his chance of appointment at Fargone. So he killed her and tried to make it look like an accident. It wasn't quite in cold blood; it wasn't quite otherwise either. He hated her. I'm afraid Ari had serious weaknesses when it came to adolescent boys. A great mind. Correspondingly eccentric vices. Frankly, we're anxious to avoid having that aspect of Ari put out in public view. Conspiracies—no. There weren't. You can interview Warrick yourself if you like. Or his son. We have his deposition under psychprobe. Not Jordan Warrick's, of course, but the son's indicates fairly well what was going on. There are also some vids that are—very explicit. We don't intend to erase them. But they don't have to go out to the news-services. It's a very old story, I'm afraid. Blackmail. Outraged parent. A cover-up that turned into murder."