Regenesis

by C. J. Cherryh

  That calmed things, afterward. People caught their breath and quit trying to buck the flow. People began to walk normally, and to talk, and to ask questions, particularly of Gerry and Mark, who just said, repeatedly, “We’re on duty, ser. We can’t stop.”

  Justin made another try on the com. “Dad? Answer, dammit.”

  And a second one, after the next intersection. He wasn’t used to this much exercise. His legs were burning. “Dad? Come on, answer.”

  “What in hell’s going on?” the question came.

  “Where are you?”

  “Abrizio’s.”

  “Right below you. Coming up.” He was vastly relieved. And he had two large, heavily armed azi in tow, who weren’t going to help his father’s nerves at all. “Mark, Gerry, you’re on my tab. Just go in, after us, order soft drinks and sandwiches, sit, and have dinner until Grant and I leave.”

  “Ser,” Gerry said, “we’re on duty.”

  “This is your duty, to look inconspicuous and not have my father create a public furor, which is bound to cause me and sera trouble. Just do it. You’re doing personal security at the moment. My rules apply.”

  “Yes, ser,” came back, from both, and meanwhile they reached the escalator and rode it up, this time, to the concourse level of Education.

  “He’s going to notice them,” Grant said. “They won’t stay that far back.”

  “I’m sure he will.”

  They had Abrizio’s in sight: yellow lights were flashing, lending an unwholesome look to the area, but people were moving about in a fair simulation of calm. He and Grant lengthened stride, got a little ahead of Mark and Gerry as they reached the door, came in and advanced a few paces to try to spot Jordan. Things had gotten quiet, just as Paul stood up to make clear where they were. Paul’s eyes were averted to something behind them, and Justin didn’t look: the silhouettes of two helmeted ReseuneSec agents appearing in the doorway, blinking with ready-lights, could generally put a pall on conversation, or stimulate it, and both happened.

  They had Paul and Jordan in view, however, and wended their way through the clutter of tables to take the vacant two seats.

  “You’re being followed,” Jordan remarked as Justin sat down.

  “The whole damn place is under alert,” Justin said. There was a half-eaten order of chips and cheese with peppers. It was one of Abrizio’s better offerings. He took a chip with cheese. “Just came from supper and a party. Not real hungry.”

  “The same,” Grant said.

  “Party,” Jordan said.

  “Social evening. The new wing’s open. We’ve moved again. We didn’t plan to.”

  “And you just got lonesome for our company,” Jordan said.

  “Drop the barbs. I got worried. There’s been an explosion at the up-river construction. We don’t know if there’s anything going on here, but since you draw trouble the way I did, I borrowed a couple of Ari’s guards and came looking.”

  “An attack on the construction. Interesting. And a couple of Ari’s guards in attendance. I should be flattered.”

  “It’s nothing. It’s probably just an accident, hit a gas pocket in a dieoff area, something like that. Methane. Blew a new precip tower to bits. Security’s on alert, nonetheless. They’re not letting anybody onto the grounds.”

  “We heard the announcement,” Jordan said glumly.

  At least Mark and Gerry had taken off the helmets and the lights on their gear didn’t show. The waitress was over there. They were making their order, likely soft drinks. Maybe sandwiches.

  “Well, I was going to call you. We’d just had one thing after the other. We took an early supper, headed home from the restaurant to find out we’d been moved—my number hasn’t changed, neither has Grant’s. Office, the whole thing. Then we had a note on the minder we were due at a reception not that long after, so we didn’t actually change for that. Just went. Had a few drinks, so I’m at max. I was going to call you in the morning…”

  “We just heard the warning sound,” Jordan said, “and there hadn’t been any advisement they were going to make weather, so we figured it must be a natural storm. Guess not. Methane, eh?”

  Sometimes the web of lies he told Jordan just overloaded. Sometimes, if things were ever going to be different, there had to be a dose of truth. “Fact is,” he said, lowering his voice, “it probably wasn’t. Somebody apparently blew up the tower up at the new construction.”

  “Somebody?”

  “The usual suspicion goes to the Paxers. But that would be major for them, a real break with habit.”

  “Logistics.” Jordan had leaned forward, and Paul had too, both of them, just taking it in, and for the first time in a long time, there was no bitter edge. “How in hell did they get through?”

  “They needed river transport,” Justin said. “They had to get either up-river past Reseune or downriver.”

  “Out of Svetlansk,” Jordan said, “maybe. Downriver saves fuel.”

  “Not much civilization up there,” Paul said, “or wasn’t—last we knew.”

  “Mining, shipping, plenty of opportunity to lay hands on explosives. Unless things have changed.”

  “Not much to stop them going ashore at the new construction,” Justin said. “No filtration equipment like here. No weir. No bots. All they’d need to do would be get a boat somewhere, load it with something—go ashore in suits, get out again.”

  “So what,” Jordan asked with sudden sharp focus, “would anybody at Svetlansk have against whatever’s going on at this new construction?”

  And how much to tell Jordan? How many secrets to dance around? He’d gotten a response with the truth, a real change of disposition out of Jordan. He could make Ari mad. But Ari said she wanted to help Jordan. And was that the truth?

  “Jordan,” he said, “I’m going to tell you something I don’t want to go beyond you and Paul. The new construction is another township in the works. Name of Strassenberg.”

  “Strassenberg.” Jordan gave a short, bitter laugh. “My God. She’s building a city.”

  But he kept his voice down when he said it.

  “Dad, I’m about as close to Ari as I can get. And that’s likely to be a permanent arrangement.” Jordan drew back a little at that, and Justin brought his hand down on Jordan’s, pinning it. “Just listen to me. Permanent arrangement. It’s where I live. I’m not her lover. I’m her teacher. And I’m not inclined to say no.”

  “Clearly it pays well.”

  “I want to do it. Dad. I get things out of the arrangement…”

  “Oh, I’ll bet you do.”

  “Listen to me! She’s damned smart, is that a surprise? But I get access to the first Ari’s notes, so you should know money isn’t the game. Neither is sex.” Jordan tried to move the hand and he held it, hard. “Listen. Talk to me about this. I want you to understand me, just once. I’m learning. I missed a hell of a lot during the bad years. Same as you. I’m getting a break, and I’m taking it. I don’t think that’s such a bad deal.”

  “Count your change. That’s all I’ll say.”

  “She’ll use some of the things I know, yes. But meanwhile I get input in what’s going on in the world, I get some policy input, and that’s important. I get to have a say.”

  “Sure. As long as you agree with her you’ll have a major say. Wake up.”

  “I’ll have to see how it plays out. I won’t know. But I’m not locking myself away from the chance.”

  “You look pretty well locked away to me. You don’t get a say in who you can let in’ the door—do you?”

  “Dad. Eventually, yes. This isn’t the time…”

  “Bullshit.” Jordan jerked his hand free. “Paul. Have you had enough?”

  “We’ll walk you back,” Justin said.

  “The hell. With those two over there? The hell you will. Paul. Come on.” He stood up. Looked down at Justin. “You’re rich. You pay the bill.”

  “Sit down. Please.”

  “No, thanks.�
��

  Jordan headed for the door, Paul in his wake.

  Justin got up. Grant did. “Grant,” Justin asked him, “pay the bill.”

  “We don’t split up.” Grant said. “If you go after him, we go.”

  “Grant, just for God’s sake, take care of it.” He shoved through the narrow gap between two occupied chairs and started to leave, and Grant did, both of them heading for the door, but Jordan and Paul were already outside.

  “Hey!” a female voice yelled.

  They knew the waitress. Justin stopped, half-turned to show his face in the dim ambient light. “Justin Warrick, Greta, just put it on my tab. All of it.” He could see their guards on their feet and starting out. He turned, hardly having stopped moving, and got out the door.

  A presence at the side caught his eye—two ReseuneSec agents and Jordan and Paul up against the frontage of the bar—familiar sight, but not familiar with his father and Paul involved.

  “Hey!” Justin said, and immediately faced a drawn stunner. He raised his hands to show them vacant. Grant did.

  And about that time two more on their side came out of the bar.

  Guns came next.

  “For God’s sake!” Justin exclaimed. “We’re on the same side!”

  “Interfering in an arrest,” one of the outside guards said.

  “On what grounds?” Jordan shot back.

  Justin, hands still lifted, said, “Dad, just shut up!”

  “Both of you, up against the wall.”

  “Don’t move!” That, from one of their own pair. “Don’t anybody move. They’re under our watch.”

  “Where’s your orders?” one of the others asked. “Who are you?”

  “Mark BM, special assignment, Alpha Wing.”

  “There isn’t any Alpha Wing.”

  “There is,” Justin said, “as of today.”

  “Shut up,” the agent advised him. “Get over there.”

  “Ser Warrick isn’t moving,” Mark said. “Special assignment, Ariane Emory’s personal guard. Alpha Wing. Ser Warrick. Stand away from the wall.”

  “Don’t move!”

  “Call—” Justin began to suggest, and flinched and shut up when he heard the hum of a stunner.

  “We will shoot if you fire that.” That was the other voice from his side. “Gerry GB, Alpha Wing. Call your headquarters.”

  Justin stood still. Grant did. They’d drawn a crowd. “Hell of a fix,” he said, and remembered what he had in his pocket. And he didn’t dare reach for it. He found occasion to lower his hands a degree. In case.

  “Stand still!”

  “This is a warning,” Gerry said. “We are authorized. Call your headquarters.”

  “Better do it,” Justin muttered. “Director Hicks is going to be damned mad if you and her security start shooting at each other. Let me get my com and I’ll call Yanni Schwartz if you want to take the chance.”

  “I’m calling HQ,” the other agent said.

  “I want to know.” Jordan said, “on what charges we’re being arrested.”

  “Shut up, Dad.”

  “I want to know!” Jordan said sharply.

  “Because there’s an alert out on you. Detain and hold for HQ.”

  “And I want to know who gave that order,” Justin said. “Was it Hicks? I want to see badges, and authorization.”

  “Stay put.”

  “I’ll find out,” Justin said, seeing he was gaining ground. “You can bet I will, and if I can’t, Emory’s bodyguard will.”

  There was a brief exchange on the com. Justin couldn’t hear the other side of it, but he heard, “We’ve found Warrick, ser, in company with his son and two azi—”

  “Grant ALX,” Grant supplied, “and Paul AP.”

  “Grant and Paul,” the other agent said, and began making signs to his partner, who took a step back. “No. Not actually in detention, ser.” Hand-sign for “back way off.” “We’ve got a pair in uniform with lethals claiming to be bodyguard from Alpha Wing. Claiming they’ve got jurisdiction.” Moment of silence. “Yes, ser. Understood, ser. Thank you, ser. —We’re to back off,” he said to his partner. “Apologies. You’re free to go.”

  “The hell!” Jordan shouted.

  “Jordan,” Justin said, and quietly went and got Jordan by the arm. “Just come with me.” Jordan’s cheek was red—contact with the ornate frontage, likely, not a voluntary contact. “Paul. Let’s just go.”

  Jordan wiped at his cheek and looked at his hand, and looked venom at the two agents, only slightly less so at Mark and Gerry.

  “It’s all right, Dad. We’re going now. Grant, Paul, can you go back in there and settle the tab? Mark, go with them, will you?”

  “Yes, ser,” Mark said. And the other two agents, nameless, went on down the mall. Not unreported. There’d been badge numbers, and Justin would bet Grant remembered. Not counting the report Mark and Gerry might file.

  “It’s going to bruise,” Justin said, still holding Jordan’s arm, and Jordan shook him off.

  “I’m fine.”

  “Sure you are. Thank God they really were ReseuneSec.”

  Jordan gave him a stark stare. “Any reason to expect anything else wandering around the mall?”

  There wasn’t. But there could be. “You attract cards, remember?”

  “No fucking way to run things,” Jordan said. “Damn!”

  “Glad I came after you,” Justin said.

  “Why did you?”

  “Just generally worried,” he said. “Worried about your safety.” The com wasn’t the only thing he had in his pocket. He felt in his pants pocket and found the old keycard. “I can’t bring you into Alpha Wing. But I can get you into Wing One. If there’s anything else afoot—that’ll stop some things.”

  “Since when, Wing One?”

  “Since it’s mostly vacant, since we have a perfectly good apartment there we still have keys to. You’ll have to go out for meals—I recommend the Admin section. I don’t know if there’ll be sheets, but there’s a bed and I know they left the furniture. Tonight, with things going crazy like this—I just want you to go there, Dad. Come on. You know you’re curious.”

  “I know that Wing pretty damned well. I know her apartment—pretty damned well.”

  “She’s not in it. She’s in Alpha Wing now. Security there’s still tight, however.”

  “Well, it’s tight here! You saw what came of it.”

  “If I tell Wing One Security you belong there for a while, I don’t think anybody’s going to bother you. Dad, just do me the favor. Please. I’m begging you. For Paul’s sake. Don’t mess around with this. You’re on somebody’s list, and some stupid order got fired off when the alert went out, maybe an accident, maybe an accident somebody just let happen, but I don’t want you running the risk. Bruises heal. A stunner’s not damned funny.” He pulled the keycard out. Offered it. “Yours, until I get this sorted out.”

  “You get us in there,” Jordan said with a shadow of that sour quirk he could take on, “and Security doesn’t nail us twice in the process…and I’ll be very interested to see how it plays with her highness.”

  “I’ll talk to her.”

  “So nice to have a son who has pull.”

  “Come on,” he said. Paul and Grant came out of the bar, mission accomplished, he trusted, and he caught Grant’s eye and then turned to Mark and Gerry. “You understand what I’m doing. I’m moving my father and his companion into Wing One, our apartment there, where they’ll be safe. I want you to advise your command we’re doing it, tell them what’s happened, and say my father would appreciate it if he has sheets, towels, and a bar setup.”

  “Yes, ser,” Gerry said.

  He’d tossed the last in. Gerry seemed in no wise fazed by the order. He motioned Jordan on toward the down escalator.

  “We haven’t got a change of clothes,” Jordan said.

  “Welcome to my ever-changing world,” Justin said, and turned his head toward Mark. “Mark, my father’s
had no chance to pack anything. Can you arrange him and Paul to have clothes, personal kit, that sort of thing?”

  “We’re going to get turned back at the door,” Jordan predicted.

  But they didn’t. The Alpha Wing keycard got them right through, and the ever-present Wing One security guards said, “Justin Warrick, ser. We have orders from Alpha Wing. Go on up.”

  They rode the lift to their old apartment. Silence aboard, just the thump of the car on its tracks. They got out into a hall as brightly lit as ever, right by their door. “Go ahead,” Justin said to Jordan as they reached the key-slot. “You’ve got the key.”

  Jordan put it in. Opened the door. Their living room, their couch. And a small tray of canapes, and another of vodka and glasses.

  “That wasn’t sitting here all day,” Jordan said.

  “That’s from the party, pretty clearly,” Justin said. He walked over and turned on the autobar. “Still stocked. Good they brought the glasses.”

  “Clearly they’ve got a key to this place.” Jordan said.

  “There’s no place they can’t get, actually,” Justin said, and took a look into the bedroom. “Sheets and towels. I imagine your clothes will arrive shortly.”

  “Fast service,” Jordan said.

  “She approves,” Justin said, fixing Jordan with a level stare. “Or you wouldn’t get the canapes.”

  Jordan didn’t say a thing. Just walked back into the hall, had a look at the bedroom, and walked back again. “You’re right. Black and white and grey. A psychotic’s dream.”

  “The bed’s not bad,” he said. “Pretty comfortable, actually.”

  “What’s the rent?” Jordan said. “Your immortal soul?”

  “Call it caretaking. Ari’s moved. We’ve moved. They’re going to be renovating all over the Wing, what I hear; but this place can wait.” He gave a nod toward the adjoining wall. “That was her apartment. Which I suppose you know. We’re across one major wall and a security gate, but not that far away. Assuming you want to stay here.”

  “Is there ice?” Jordan asked.

  “The bar says there’s ice.”

  “Then we’ll stay,” Jordan said, sitting down on the couch. “Paul, all right with you?”