"Do we ever actually run through our wages?" Grant asked.

"We never get a chance to find out, do we? And what about our regular work?" He turned full circle, looked at the walls, the river view, and something beyond vertigo bothered him, something indefinably bothered him and made his shoulders twitch. He walked across the office and back before it dawned on him. "It's backward. It's d.a.m.ned backward! The back wall is south. The old office wall faced north."

"Is that going to bother you?"

"It's already bothering me." He was still frustrated. The office had always had its carefully designed cluttereven his every-other-layer stacking was preserved, in the pile on the corner of his desk. The room was white-walled, had a view that cost a month's pay. The desks were new black lacquer, not brown lake wood, scarred from years of use. Their use. It was like that d.a.m.ned black and white bedroom they lived in, that was what. "I want some flowers in here. Some pictures that don't move."

"I can order the flowers," Grant said, and added wickedly. "Red?"

"No. Blue. Green. Purple. Anything but red." There was one red pillow, one red flower, in their professionally decorated black, gray, and white quarters.

"Maybe you'd like to pick out the pictures yourself."

That nettled him, too. "Ordering flowers is not your job to do. You're not my"

"I'm not as afflicted by the decor as you are," Grant said. "It's a born-man problem. You're fluxed. I'm sure I could order flowers in a sane, logical way. Possibly I'd be calm enough to pick out complementary pictures. Clearly"

"The h.e.l.l." He found his mood improving, unwanted improvement, even toward laughter. "Oh, h.e.l.l, blue. Blue would be good. Blues and purples, that sort of thing." The single screen pretending to be a window drew the eye and suggested blue-greens and grays. "Cancel the purple.

Blues and quiet greens. That might do it. I'd like that. If you wouldn't mind doing it. I'm not that logical, at the moment."

"I'm sure there's something that'll work," Grant said nicely. "I'll look."

By computer. You could do anything by computer. It would be there in an hour, if they opted for messenger service, and flowers and paintings could get through security, oh, by tomorrow, if security was in a good mood.

It certainly wasn't the way he'd done things in the days when he'd been free, on his own salary and Grant's.

Before the first Ari had gotten her hands on him. Before Jordan had gotten himself in trouble and gotten shipped to the far side of the world.

So Jordan came back, and Ari protected him from his own father . . . meaning she'd finally gotten her way and gotten him all the way into her wingto do nothing nothing in his career, but teach her. in his career, but teach her.

Standing, he flipped on the computer. The screen blinked up.

Three messages from Ari, in the upper righthand corner. messages from Ari, in the upper righthand corner.

Calamity?

He dropped into the chair, keyed the messages up. And had to laugh, however ruefully. "What is it?"

"Ari's postscripts. The first Ari didn't do postscripts. Wouldn't have done a postscript when she was six. Our girl's done two in the same letter. She's worried I'll hit the ceiling. I think she's really worried."

"What does she say?"

"That they're giving the other office to Jordan. That were better off here. That the old office was bugged, anyway." That got a laugh from Grant.

Justin keyed off and got up. "Let's go out for lunch."

"Out for lunch? We haven't gotten any work done yet. I'm just into the flowers."

"Lunch. Relaxation. Out of the Wing. Prove we can. But somewhere less likely to run into Jordan."

"Jordan is going to be heading for Yanni's office about now. If we stay off that track, we'll miss him."

This time he he laughed. It made fair sense. Jordan was going to take about five minutes to realize he'd been given the office solo, and bet on it, Jordan wasn't going to be working today, either. laughed. It made fair sense. Jordan was going to take about five minutes to realize he'd been given the office solo, and bet on it, Jordan wasn't going to be working today, either.

Straight line course for Yanni's office, no question.

Not that Yanni would do anything to make Jordan happier. Yanni didn't do it Yanni didn't do it, Ari's final note had said. And she claimed she hadn't done it.

So who had? What other authority was there, ruling his life?

Justin walked over to the desk, picked out the printout he'd been working over. Laid the project-book, open, on his desk, where he would work on it when he got back. "There. We're officially moved in and my desk is officially cluttered, so it's home. G.o.d knows what the fallout was from that card Jordan handed me. Opening barrage, in what's going to be some kind of war, I'm afraid. A war for possession of us, for starters. For possession of Reseune, I'm very much afraid. Jordan's not going to win anything and I don't think he'll stop until someone stops him. And I don't want that, Grant, d.a.m.n, I really don't want it." His mood crashed. He leaned on his chair back. "He's headed for a fall."

"You think she'll send him back to Planys?"

Deep down, he actually wished she would, this morning once and for all. And that was so startlingly dark and traitorous a thought that he felt deeply ashamed of himself. Jordan had spent twenty years in comparative privation, shut out of the modern world for a crime his accuser had likely committed; and his own son at least owed him some sympathy for the resultant bitterness, didn't he?

But not when Grant was in danger from that sympathy: Ari had created Grant, Jordan had written some of his first tapes, knew at least his initial keywords and triggers, and if Jordan decided there might be flaws in Grant's loyalty, and wanted to revise things, he could do major damage.

And h.e.l.l if he'd let that happen, not if it meant Jordan going straight back into exile. He shoved back from the chair and picked up his coat.

"Jordan's not making it easy for anybody," he said grimly. "Not for me, not for you, not for two hours running since he's been back."

"Why does he do it?" Grant asked, reaching for his own coat. "What does an intelligent CIT want out of this situation?"

"Intelligent as he is, I'm afraid intelligence is nowhere in this situation."

"You're angry with him." Halfway into the coat.

Justin settled his own onto his shoulders. "You noticed that."

"Angry enough to take action against him as you did. That seems justified, from my own view."

"I'm angry about being uprooted into an office that's just d.a.m.ned backward to what I've been used to for most of my life. I'm angry at being co-opted deeper into Ari's wing. I'm angry because I'm going to miss Abrizio's . . ."

"We can walk over there. Nothing's stopping us."

"We could run into him him!"

"So you want to avoid him permanently?"

"d.a.m.n it." it."

"But not d.a.m.n him him?"

"I don't know!"

Grant frowned. "So all across the horizon, very intelligent CITs aren't acting rationally. Young Ari didn't do a thing, Yanni didn't, the elder Warrick makes a stupid move, and the younger doesn't know what he d.a.m.ns, but he doesn't want to talk to his genefather at all. What was the card you asked me to give Florian?"

It bordered on funny, it was so stupid. The idiocy of the situation afflicted his already raw sensibilities. At very least, his universe was not on the same track this morning, and he no longer knew where it was going, not an unusual condition in his life, but not one he liked.

"Jordan's likely to be at our favorite lunch haunt on any given day if he's using that office, and I don't want the confrontation. So, for starters, I think we'll walk to the north corridor of Admin for a late breakfast. That won't be on his route." He stared disconsolately at the cabinets, finding everything out of sorts. "They've color-coded the d.a.m.n supply cabinets. It looks great. But are we going to remember to put the clips back in the red box? Should we have to remember? Does anyone care?"

"At least your father won't be into your notebooks."

"Definitely a point in favor of this place."

"And it was was originally his office." originally his office."

It was. It had been. "Let's just get out of here before" The desk phone went off. He shot a look at Grant. It rang again. It was Jordan's ID. He hesitated toward the door, then looked back. It went on ringing. He swore, and punched in Speaker. "Dad?"

"Where in h.e.l.l are you?" came from the other end. "What's going on?"

"They moved us. I think we were bugged."

"You think think we were bugged! b.l.o.o.d.y h.e.l.l! we were bugged! b.l.o.o.d.y h.e.l.l!" So much for that piece of deliberate naivete. And more quietly, even gently, Jordan added: "Are you all right?"

He hadn't hadn't expected parental concern. That ploy hadn't even been on the radar. It set him back about a beat or two and almost hurt. Not quite. "We're fine. Dad. We are." expected parental concern. That ploy hadn't even been on the radar. It set him back about a beat or two and almost hurt. Not quite. "We're fine. Dad. We are."

"Where are you?"

"Wing One." Where Jordan couldn't come. Not a hope in h.e.l.l he'd ever get through her security to have a look around this office. "They moved my office."

And Jordan had to know that the move was for good.

"Are you going to protest this?"

Tell the truth or temporize? Truth was simpler. Kinder, if that mattered. "No, actually."

"No?"

Outrage. Truth, again? Or was it a lie?

Both wrapped together, both truth and and lie, likely. Jordan wanted his son to rise up and challenge Admin, and challenge Ari's existence. But he didn't really expect it to happenfor reasons Jordan thought he understood better than the rest of the universe. "It won't do a d.a.m.n bit of good if I do. It's not a bad office here. More room. Certainly more room than four of us and staff jammed into the other one." lie, likely. Jordan wanted his son to rise up and challenge Admin, and challenge Ari's existence. But he didn't really expect it to happenfor reasons Jordan thought he understood better than the rest of the universe. "It won't do a d.a.m.n bit of good if I do. It's not a bad office here. More room. Certainly more room than four of us and staff jammed into the other one."

"Come to breakfast."

Now a lie was necessary. Absolutely the polite thing. "Things are in a mess here. I've got some unpacking to do. I've got to find some things."

"Supper, then. We'll cook."

It wasn't an invitation. It was a challenge to trust. Maybe to come talk about that card he no longer had. And he didn't trust Jordan, not at all. He wasn't bringing Grant and himself through Jordan's doors, subject to whatever they were handed to eat and drink, which might have G.o.d-knew-what in it. "I can't."

"Arrested?"

"Just detained. I don't know for how long. It'll ease up. It always does."

"d.a.m.n it, I'm going to Yanni with this."

So they both went through the motions. The pretense of familial affection. The reality of outrage. "Don't use up your credit with him. This was bound to happen. They're not going to like us working together. You knew that when you pushed it."

"You mean she's not going to like it."

"Look, you've got to settle in, start producing again, start your work up . . . let them see you haven't lost a beat. That's what's important. Get current with things ... I understand they're going to give you that office."

"Current!"

"All right, yes, I'm sure that's an issue among the younger researchers." It was, and a painful one, which he used with only the faintest twinge of shame. "Get a new project going. And since you're in that office alone with Paul, there won't be any question what's my work and what's yours."

There was just a little silence on the other side. As if his son's work was going to overshadow his, as if, if it was any good, no one would believe he did it. That was going to sting. And he did it deliberately, knowing how instinctively jealous and compet.i.tive his father was. Jealousy had been the core issue with Jordan and the first Ari, that Jordan wouldn't be second to her . . . he'd tried to be her equal partner in research, and that hadn't worked, because the first Ari had had been smarter than Jordan, just like the second. been smarter than Jordan, just like the second. He He accepted that fact of life, with his Ari. Jordan hadn't ever been able to. He didn't know what he felt at the moment, but it was perilously close to unreasoning angerwhich didn't d.a.m.ned well help in a fencing match with his father. accepted that fact of life, with his Ari. Jordan hadn't ever been able to. He didn't know what he felt at the moment, but it was perilously close to unreasoning angerwhich didn't d.a.m.ned well help in a fencing match with his father.

"That's the way it is, is it?" Jordan asked. "That's the concern she has, just so solicitous to have me look good? Pardon me if I don't buy it."

"I don't either, Jordan, but there's a certain a.s.sumption around the labs that you're so many years behind the times, that you can't possibly overcome"

"The h.e.l.l! The h.e.l.l I am! And the h.e.l.l I can't!"

"It's the next generation, dad. They don't know you. Just produce. They'll learn who you are."

"Who I am? d.a.m.ned right they will!"

Jordan broke the connection, right there.

Grant lifted a well-controlled eyebrow. "Breakfast?"

Chapter iv.

April 26, 2424 1302 H.

Message from Hicks, director of Reseune Security, to sera's security: Consultation urgently needed. Consultation urgently needed.

It might involve the cardif Hicks was running an operation at Yanni's direction, they'd gotten in the middle of it last night, and Hicks was probably quietly furious at their having swept it up, they could say no. They could hold onto the card and force Yanni to request sera to order them to release it; but a feud with Hicks wasn't profitable. Hicks had agreed when they'd outright insisted on their monitoring the business with Justin and his father, and relaying what they found to him; and the interview seemed, overall, a reasonable request.

"I'll likely be a while," Florian said, while leaving the security station.

"All secure here," Catlin said. "I'll hold things down. It wouldn't be good to annoy ReseuneSec if we don't need to."

"No," he agreed. "It wouldn't."

He took the card with him, carefully protected in an envelopeits disposition dependent on what he heard from Hicks: maybe he would turn it over, maybe not, and Hicks would not lay hands on him, not if Hicks wanted his career. He headed out, downstairs, out of the wing and over to Admin, to an office that supervised his kind, but not him, not Catlin. and no one else inside sera's apartment.

ReseuneSec was operationally directly responsible to Yanni Schwartz these days. Hicks had succeeded Giraud Nye in the post, and hadn't been implicated in Denys' attempt on sera's lifein fact Hicks had stood down, done his best to keep things calm and safe for most of Reseune, and taken neither side, while sera's people and Denys' people shot at each other in the halls of Wing One. So Hicks had kept his job. Yanni said he was a good man, and since they trusted Yanniso farthey trusted Hicksso far.