Regenesis

by C. J. Cherryh

  “I’m glad I’m not,” Catlin said. “Most of the troubles anywhere in the universe are CIT.”

  “Well, We do have our uses,” Ari said, a little more cheerfully.

  “So we don’t have to do things,” Florian said. “You do them.”

  “Well, right now I wish I could figure how to find a man who doesn’t exist.”

  “We’ve looked through lab results,” Catlin said, “and the rush from the blown window and the blast from the grenade messed up the sniffer, so we don’t even have the smell of this person, well, not much, at least, but we’re pretty sure it was male: we have a little bit of a scent. He was likely using a masker or a puffer to mess up the sniffers, to boot, but all we really have is Dr. Patil’s saying the name before she died. We don’t know if she recognized him as breaking in, or if she just thought of him when someone else was about to kill her. The way she said it—’the name is Clavery’—seems to indicate she wanted Justin to remember that name and report it.”

  “And it was definitively a grenade?” Ari asked.

  “Yes. Hand launcher,” Catlin said. “they aren’t big. They carry farther than a toss can do. Unskilled people can use them the same way they’d use a handgun. Setting it off in a room wasn’t really appropriate use for it. But it was probably on a few seconds’ delay: that’s one advantage of a grenade. That would let the perpetrator get the door shut so he wouldn’t get blown out, too.”

  “Using the launcher in that small a space says this was a novice,” Florian said. “Someone that was likely to make a mistake with a grenade, maybe freeze. The launcher—you just preset the delay you want, and pull the trigger. It could have sent the grenade halfway to Admin from here. In that little room, it probably stuck in the wall and then blew up: if it had hit the window, it would actually have done less damage. The door was shut by then: there was blast impact on its inside. The perpetrator was on his way out of there—if he wasn’t blown out, too. They tried sniffers outside the room, but he was probably using a puffer, and he was probably moving fast. They went ahead and took sniffer readings in every room on that floor and above and below, but they never found the launcher or the puffer, so that part was clever. Somebody probably took it from him, maybe somebody else took over the puffer as they passed in the hall—that’s the lab’s theory. If he didn’t land on a rooftop somewhere as yet undetected. Possibly the assassin was on building staff. I don’t think they’re going to find too much that’s useful. A lot of things about this are very well-organized.”

  “That could even mean they meant to give the impression of a novice,” Catlin said, “and whoever was running it really wasn’t. A grenade like that—it could have taken out the apartment downstairs. It didn’t. The owner downstairs was very lucky, or the assassins knew the building design.”

  “Not nice, all the same,” Ari said.

  “No,” Florian agreed. “Not nice. And Paxers haven’t been at all careful about collaterals. No rules.”

  “If it was Paxers,” Catlin said.

  “Paxers had the motive,” Ari said, “if they thought Patil was betraying their interests or selling out to Reseune. Paxers really don’t like us. But you’re right: there could be others. And where do you get grenades and launchers?”

  “Mostly from Defense,” Catlin said, “but there’s pilferage, mostly at Novgorod docks, and things can be had.”

  “That needs fixing,” she said.

  “It’s not easy to fix,” Florian said, “from what I hear.”

  “First is to make sure they’re not hiring any Paxers dockside,” Catlin said, “which has happened.”

  “That would be top of the list, yes,” Ari agreed. It was a wide, confusing world—unlike Reseune. But there were slinks in both, and they hadn’t found the one in their own halls, not yet: that there was one, potentially—the movement of the card indicated there was.

  “Sera,” Catlin said, “you have on file a list of all her contacts.”

  “Yes. Largely Defense, and academics. Academics don’t have access to grenade launchers. Unless they’re getting them from Paxers.”

  “Defense is having elections,” Florian said. “That’s a period of instability.”

  “Namely?” Catlin said.

  “Jacques and Spurlin backed Eversnow, but there’s Khalid. I’d expect Defense professionals to be more careful,” Florian said, and a little line appeared between his brows. “But the charge didn’t penetrate the floor. Just blew the pressure out. Does anyone live downstairs? Do we know-that? And who are they?”

  “I did check about downstairs,” Catlin said, “a single man, Shoji Korsa. He was out on emergency assignment with his company. This appears a coincidence. Coincidences have to be proven. He’s an executive with Geotech. That company called him to Moreyville. His apartment wasn’t damaged, except a mirror broke. The building is being investigated for structural problems.”

  “Meanwhile we’re investigating via the ReseuneSec link,” Florian said. “We’ve kept our inquiry out of Hicks’ awareness, sera, except for that. We’ve done a little, just to keep up the appearance of using his system. Should we ask him directly?”

  Ari shook her head. “Not until we talk to Yanni. I imagine he’s upset about Patil. But I’d like to know how upset he is. Have you sent Yanni and Hicks the transcripts?”

  “Yes,” Florian said.

  “Good.” She’d ordered that, a gesture of good will. She was tired. It had been a long day with the computers, and she’d missed her lesson with Justin. Again. Her eyes were scratchy. Jordan had found out about Eversnow from somebody. And when she thought about things really hard, she got sleepy when she was in this state: that was ideas trying to find their way out of the maze. Regarding Justin. Regarding Paxers. Regarding two murders, one delicate, one a blunt-force mess that might have destabilized an apartment tower. “Let’s just go to bed.”

  “Shall I leave, sera?” Catlin asked.

  Leaving her and Florian alone, Catlin meant, which would be good if she had any energy left, but she didn’t. She just wanted comfort. And ideas wouldn’t happen if there was sex, so it wasn’t a good idea on that account, either.

  “Stay,” she said. Her gown was thin, the room was chilled down for night, on the minder’s program, and they in their gym sweats were warm, longtime company. She made a place under the covers for all of them, and they got under, Florian in the middle, and tucked down together, the way they had before they’d ever discovered sex.

  She could let her mind go, then, and just think, and she did.

  If Patil had recognized Anton Clavery in the person who’d showed up with a grenade launcher, then she’d met him under that name. Novice, Florian and Catlin had said. And that would seem to rule out anyone important or anybody military. Unless, Florian and Catlin had said, it was someone trying to leave the scene looking like a novice.

  If Patil called out that name in the face of an armed man and her imminent death, she’d tried to send Justin a message regarding someone she counted as a threat, or the source of threats. “They,” she’d said. A mysterious “they” had been watching her, scaring her, making her desperate enough to call Justin to try to get through to Jordan.

  And why Jordan? Why not ask him to go to Yanni?

  Jordan’s name had been popularly attached to the dissidents. They’d campaigned to get him released. Thieu had been in favor of terraforming and against the forces that had stopped it, namely the first Ari. Giraud, Yanni, all that generation: Jordan said Thieu had regarded him with sympathy, and courted him, believing he’d murdered Ari.

  It wasn’t a sweet old man, was it?

  Thieu would have wanted her dead, likely. Thieu had wanted the planet terraformed, all the ankyloderms and platytheres dead, everything in the oceans—all done; and the first Ari hadn’t. The first Ari had been a citizen of the planet, and Olga Emory hadn’t influenced her enough—the first Ari had changed her mind and begun to protect it.

  Like Gehenna, wasn’t it? This i
s your world…

  Had that had an emotional resonance for Ari One, herself? Take care of it? Defend it? Protect it?

  It did with her. She wasn’t for losing what Cyteen had grown up to have. She’d defend it. And that would put her on the outs with Dr. Raymond Thieu, who’d been sure Jordan Warrick would take his side and admire his work and his intentions.

  Maybe that was over-romanticizing it. Maybe that was giving too much credit to Jordan because, bastard that he was, he hadn’t liked the man’s insistence. Jordan wasn’t anybody’s follower, he was nobody’s disciple. Free-thinker, yes, argumentative son of a bitch, definitely, but not the sort that would sit in the shadows with anybody and connive and scheme…just not in his makeup. Not in Justin’s. In a certain measure, they had something in common, and damned sure when the first Ari intervened with Justin, it wasn’t to make him capable of connivance and subterfuge—she couldn’t think of anyone actually worse at it than Justin.

  And Justin wanted the world as it was. He wanted to save the native fauna. Jordan wasn’t for destroying them so much as he was just for getting off the planet and going away and having all mankind living in space—living a lot like the Alliance folk, in steel worlds, in ships. Maybe with a forest at the heart of Pell, but that was not—not something that was going to be Jordan’s first project. He’d be trying to educate kids to be rational beings. That was what he used to do, before he became so angry.

  He wasn’t Clavery, that was sure. But the two people they could reach who probably knew who that was…were both dead.

  Clavery could be a nonperson or he could even be a hollow man sort of a nonperson, someone who’d never really existed, only who various people opted to be when they wanted to be somebody else. He could be a construct, a composite.

  Even a foreigner. Somebody from Alliance. Somebody bent on mischief that could start the whole War again, and she didn’t think that was the case. If Patil had recognized him in her doorway, she’d known who she attached that name to, and she’d wanted it known to Justin and Jordan, as her last living act.

  She couldn’t get through to Jordan, so she’d called Justin…

  Couldn’t get through to Jordan.

  But that was the one she’d wanted. Couldn’t get Thieu. So she wanted Jordan, as if he should know, or as if he should be warned.

  Tell him about Anton Clavery? Thieu was dead, and that name was at issue, and Patil was terrified for her life? She’d gotten her message out. Not all of it. If she’d done a little less arguing with Justin and a little more saying what she had to say, the world would be safer.

  It had been a collected, sensible gesture, in extremity. That at least was admirable. The first Ari would have done that, if she’d had time.

  But, damn it, why had the woman had to feel her way with Justin and not just say it out loud?

  Whoever hadn’t scrupled to kill two Specials was a person they urgently needed to find and deal with.

  And which Specials were gone?

  Both in nanistics. Every Special in nanistics. There were researchers and experts, but the brilliant people, the theorists, were gone.

  A bad trade for the universe, she could think: whether she supported the project or not, they’d lost two geniuses in the same field.

  It slowed Eversnow way down. There was a problem for Yanni’s program, wasn’t it? Yanni had to move fast, and sign some people, replacing Patil, or his project was going to fall through. Deals Yanni had made with Corain and Jacques were now subject to review.

  She ought to be happy about that, but she’d promised Yanni not to oppose Yanni’s objective.

  Maybe somebody thought they’d now gotten the better of Yanni, and reduced his political power.

  Somebody might have second thoughts about that move if Yanni turned out not to be in charge, and if they suddenly saw they were dealing with someone who was going to be in authority for a hundred years.

  But then—maybe it was the project itself that had stirred this kind of opposition. Maybe it was nudging somebody else’s territory. And if someone thought getting rid of Patil and Thieu would stop Reseune from a project Reseune needed—

  Well, Yanni needed to talk to her about what was going on, and it had to be very, very soon.

  BOOK THREE Section 2 Chapter viii

  JUNE 14, 2424

  1802H

  Another dinner with Yanni…and Yanni had protested, this time. He’d claimed he was too busy, said he had far too many things to do, and she was impinging on the little relaxation he did get.

  Dear Yanni, she’d written back, urgent. Be here at 1800h.

  And he was.

  He did look tired. She showed him right into the dining room, and Haze personally offered him a drink. “What are we eating?” he asked, sensibly, and Haze suggested an early start on the wine, a white, which Yanni agreed would be fine. So it was a Sauvignon Blanc for both of them.

  The first sip went down with a deep sigh. Followed by a second. Yanni wasn’t reckless in that regard, not like Jordan in the least. She had one sip, just one, and waited.

  “We have a new cook,” she said. “I don’t know what he’s put together, but it should be good.”

  “Thanks for the transcripts on the Patil case,” he said, straight to business.

  “No problem,” she said, and signaled Haze, who was doing the serving tonight, with Florian entertaining Frank in the conference room, and Catlin on hold for her dinner, just quietly standing in the corner, silent as a statue. Haze brought the appetizers, bacon-wrapped shrimp, and Yanni’s disappeared fast, without a comment. She gave a second signal, and salads arrived, delicate greens, with a light vinaigrette.

  That started going down, too, as if Yanni were half-starved, and Yanni’s wine was at a quarter of the glass left.

  “Yanni,” she said. “You’re worried about something.”

  “I’ve got a lot of pieces trying to come unglued,” Yanni said, and swallowed a bite. “Sorry. I’m just elsewhere this evening, I’m afraid.”

  “Who’s Anton Clavery?”

  “Not a pleasant dinner conversation,” Yanni said.

  “But this is our window to have this conversation, unless you want to stay for drinks, and I know you’re tired. Yanni, I need to know what’s going on.”

  “We don’t know. Clavery’s nobody. Literally, nobody.”

  “Nonperson?”

  “Something like.”

  “Did he kill Patil?”

  “Behind it, we’re pretty sure. Not the hand on the trigger, necessarily, but—”

  “Why did he kill Patil?”

  “Because…” Another bite went down, chased by the rest of the wine. “Because Patil was coming over to Science, or because certain people know about Eversnow, and shouldn’t, and that blew up before it ever got to public knowledge.”

  “Jordan?”

  Last bite. She pressed a silent signal, and Haze came in and removed the plates, while Yanni had to think about that question.

  Haze refilled Yanni’s wine glass. Yanni let it sit.

  “Jordan knew about Eversnow,” she said. “He said he did. I gave you that transcript, too Did you lie to me, Yanni? I thought you were honest. But maybe you’re just good.”

  Yanni nodded. “When I have to be. Yes, I told him about it. He didn’t approve. He hit the ceiling, in fact.”

  “In your office before you left. That was what the fight was really about.”

  “Young sera, you know quite a lot.”

  “It was pretty famous, Uncle Yanni. You weren’t very quiet. And Jordan is news. So yes, I heard there was a fight. So did everybody in Admin and Ed. Why did you tell him?”

  Long silence. And Haze wasn’t going to come back in until signaled.

  “We’re the same generation,” Yanni said. “Old associates. I know the way he thinks. He was in on the project at the beginning. I didn’t want him to find out later and blow up or go behind my back. I wanted to control how he learned and what he thought and know
what his movements were once he knew. And I pretty well got the reaction I thought I’d get, so Jordan didn’t surprise me in that respect. He doesn’t like it. He said he’d had enough of Thieu, and I was crazy, and terraforming anything was a good way to get biologicals loose we just won’t like. Old argument, with Jordan. I said he didn’t like planets on principle, and he said they were good for studying, but he’d rather not live there if he had any choice. And he asked me about his transfer to Fargone, old topic. Which I told him was dead. Totally dead. He’s not going anywhere in the foreseeable future. He shouted. I shouted. He called me a damned fool. We weren’t on record.”

  “Somebody slipped that card into his pocket, and it turned up, he says, the night you got back from Novgorod, from all this dealing. You didn’t do that, did you?”

  “No.”

  “Can I believe that? Did anybody working for you do it? Do I have to pare it down until something finally fits?”

  “I have no idea where that came from, or, more to the point, how whoever did it knew Jordan knew—if they knew Jordan knew. It’s a damned maze. And it wasn’t my doing.”

  “He’s connected to Thieu. Thieu didn’t know about Eversnow, or did he?”

  “Thieu did know something, because we made a request for his Eversnow notes back when we set this up.”

  “Thieu had notes on Eversnow in his files?”

  “He doesn’t, now. Didn’t. We borrowed them and didn’t return them. But yes, he was doing some work on that once upon a time. Defense had used his work, in their little version of the Eversnow project. We’d studied it. It’s foundational to what we propose to do next.”

  “Hell, Yanni! That’s a little oversight in informing me!”

  “It’s a worrisome piece of information to leave out, I agree. Doubly so, now.”

  “I don’t suppose Patil phoned Thieu to advise him when she got the appointment. I don’t suppose she said the word Eversnow.”

  “He didn’t get a phone call. He did get the advisement back in April that she’d taken a job at ReseuneSpace on Fargone: she sent him a message to that effect, He was not mentally what he had been. But possibly—possibly he did put two and two together. Possibly he knew very well what she was doing, a nanistics Special on the farthest station outward, next to Eversnow. Where he would have gone, if they’d gone ahead with his program.”