Regenesis

  Which, given that Rafael was investigating staff backgrounds, it might be.

  “This is Carly BC, ser. Records.”

  “Ser,” Carly said.

  Florian took the available conference chair. Carly settled on the edge of her seat and held her printout on her knees.

  “So what do you have, Carly BC?”

  “Ser, Giraud Nye’s contacts, systematized; the azi in question. Also Giraud Nye’s aides and seconds, their whereabouts, their contacts. I have the computer file.” She touched her breast pocket.

  “Tell me what you learned,” Florian said. He expected a little nervousness. Carly BC was new, straight from the barracks. First real assignment.

  And Carly had, first off, a shorter document, within the cover of the first. She pulled it out and handed it over, a set of graphs and schematics. Trips to Novgorod. Time spent in Novgorod. Meetings with Defense. Persons involved. Giraud. Abban. Gorodin, deceased Councillor.

  Regime change. Giraud, Abban, Hicks. Khalid. Jacques. Spurlin. Jacques, just recently.

  He looked up at Rafael. “You’ve seen this?”

  “I’ve skimmed it, yes, ser.”

  “Specific data on Hicks. Carly BC.”

  “Ser.”

  “Can you pull that out?”

  Carly opened the printout on her lap and frantically turned pages. “It’s here, ser.” Large, dark eyes fixed on his. “I broke out stats on each individual involved. Nye, Abban AB, Hicks, Gorodin, Khalid, Jacques, Spurlin…”

  “Give me the data file,” Florian said, and held out his hand. Carly BC opened her pocket and handed it to him immediately, a finger marking her place in the printout.

  Branches. Branch led to branch, led to branch. One person connected to another. It didn’t always produce valid theory, but the investigative AI tended to err on the side of the smallest connection, once it launched.

  “Well done, Carly BC.”

  “Thank you, ser.”

  The threads all wove back and forth. That was the pattern. Never expect that it was going to connect up too tightly. Defense was massive.

  “Visits by Abban to Hicks,” he said. “Do you have that stat?”

  “A lot, ser. I can find it.” She started to resort to the printout again.

  “That’s good, Carly BC. No, don’t bother. If it’s searchable, it’s in here, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, ser.”

  “I think we’re through with Carly BC’s report,” Florian said quietly. “Thank you, Carly BC.”

  “Ser.” She looked uncertain. Then started to get up.

  “I’ll take the report,” Florian said. And took it, and Carly received a nod from Rafael and left.

  Florian looked at Rafael, at the azi who’d been primed to report to Hicks.

  “How are you now, Rafael BR?” he asked. “Are you with us on this?”

  “My Contract is to sera,” Rafael said firmly.

  “No lingering troubles.”

  “None, ser.”

  Florian looked at him a long time, and Rafael gazed back, level and long.

  “Take precautions,” Florian said. “The ferret she sent may have rung bells in certain offices. It shouldn’t. But sometimes we aren’t as clean as we hope to be. Assume we’re not. That’s safest.”

  “Yes, ser,” Rafael said faintly.

  “Assume nothing.” Florian said. “Expect anything. At any time.”

  “Yes, ser.”

  Florian pocketed the datastrip, took the printout in hand, and left what ought to be the securest office in the securest wing in Reseune.

  He went upstairs to sera’s apartment, to the security station in the front hall, and laid the printout on the desk by Catlin’s elbow.

  “Sera Amy is safely in the hotel,” Catlin said. “Third floor, as she wanted.”

  “Hicks accompanied Giraud to Defense very many times,” he said, “and was Giraud’s go-between there, as sera remembered. Sometimes Abban was with him. Yanni is, by comparison, a stranger in that tower.”

  “The military have their own psychs,” Catlin said.

  He nodded. “I think this has to go to sera,” he said. “I think we need her opinion on this.”

  BOOK THREE Section 5 Chapter v

  JULY 26, 2424

  0929H

  “Yanni’s not meeting with Jacques today,” was the gist of Amy’s report. It was Friday, Jacques ought to be available, Spurlin’s funeral was on the vid, and Jacques was notably absent.

  Which wasn’t good. Ari didn’t acknowledge receipt of the message from Amy. There wasn’t anything to say. She did message Yanni, saying, “How are you doing, Uncle Yanni?”

  And Yanni shot back, “As well as can he expected. Funerals depress me.”

  “We’re all fine,” she wrote. “Don’t worry about things.”

  That was about five minutes before Florian came through the door and told her they were not fine.

  “Sera,” he said. “We have specific data. Abban and Hicks were both Giraud’s special envoys to Defense tower, during all recent administrations, including Khalid and Gorodin, and sometimes they were there over eight hours at a stretch. Two: Hicks is a provisional Alpha Supervisor. He has an alpha assistant, Kyle AK, and he’s provisionally certified for that azi; the certificate was obtained in the last year of Giraud’s tenure. He was in Giraud’s office as deputy director for fifteen years. He had a key. He could have accessed any manual. As an Alpha Supervisor, he could have used any manual in that office…”

  “Oh, this is good, Florian.”

  “You know born-men, sera. But we know access. He had access.”

  “He certainly did. Access to Abban. Probably to Seely. Access to Yanni’s office, right now, while he’s in Novgorod. Every time he’s been in Novgorod. Damn it! Florian, do you think Abban would have betrayed Giraud? Killed, contrary to Giraud’s wishes?”

  That drew a rapid blink of Florian’s eyes. A rapid assessment. “Sera, no, I don’t.”

  “Abban was upset as hell when Giraud died. Denys took him in. But Abban stayed upset. Denys didn’t do anything to help him. Or Denys couldn’t. That’s what I think. And maybe Abban continually supplied Denys with what somebody wanted Denys to know. Or think. Denys was only half paranoid—until Giraud died, and Abban moved in.”

  “Were we mistaken to kill Denys, sera?”

  “No,” she said definitively, and then amended that: “I don’t think so. I don’t think there was anything to save, once Giraud died. He’d have killed us.”

  “I believe he would have, sera. I know Seely would have.”

  “Seely was always Abban’s partner…out in green barracks. The way you and Catlin are partners.”

  “He probably was that, yes, sera. It makes sense that he was.”

  “But it’s not in his manual, nor is it in Seely’s. That’s just damned odd. A subsequent generation wouldn’t guess that relationship—based on that manual. A spy wouldn’t. It was just in their heads. And Giraud’s. And whoever really, really knew them. Bring me a cup of coffee, Florian. Call Catlin. We need to talk about this.”

  “Yes, sera.”

  She didn’t need the coffee, so much as the time. When they were there, Florian or Catlin, she had a range of possibilities that might be too wide, too drastic.

  Call Yanni home, now, urgently? That might protect Yanni—assuming Yanni wasn’t aiding and abetting.

  Hicks. With access to alpha-level personal manuals in Giraud’s office. Giraud had been a real Alpha Supervisor. On the record Denys had an alpha license. But Seely and Abban both, once they’d been solely in Denys’ care, hadn’t had expert handling. They’d both given her cold chills, but it had always been true, Giraud was the one who’d have had those manuals, Giraud was the person that could make the world make sense to Abban, and to Seely…and when he’d died, Denys couldn’t handle them.

  Giraud, dammit, should have found it out if somebody had gotten to Abban. He’d known Abban that well. He’d lived with him that cl
osely. How did anybody get to Abban and Giraud not know it?

  But everybody’d been upset for weeks after the first Ari had died. Giraud more than most. Giraud hadn’t been at his best… Giraud had been emoting, leaning on Abban, not the other way around. And Abban had taken care of Giraud. An alpha could. An alpha could end up being the support for his CIT—even if it meant hiding a truth, and lying, and not getting caught at it. That was the hell of working with alphas. Given the collapse of the CIT they relied on, they so, so easily ended up doing all the navigation on a map they didn’t wholly understand, and satisfying their internal conditions by the nearest available substitute—the satisfaction of coping well, and rescuing their CIT, and keeping him going. You couldn’t have an emotional meltdown and stay in charge, not with an Abban type.

  Abban might have killed the first Ari—but working with the security sets as she had, she knew—she knew in a way she hadn’t been able to accept—that scary as Abban was, Abban hadn’t been doing the steering. Abban hadn’t been to blame. And she’d gotten over it when she’d made up her mind that she wouldn’t abort Giraud, and more particularly wouldn’t abort the Abban and Seely Denys had made to keep him company.

  Pyramids in the desert. The immortality of the ancients, the burial with worldly goods, with attendants, with all the panoply of kings. Offerings to the dead, for the rebirth. She’d had that thought, when she’d first known Denys had activated all three genesets.

  All three. Even while Abban and Seely were still alive—they’d been reconceived. Were weeks along, when Denys and Abban and Seely had died.

  The sarcophagus and the womb-tank.

  She gave a little shiver. Knew exactly the same decision had attended her birth, and Florian’s, and Catlin’s, though they’d all been dead.

  Who’d given the order to terminate Florian and Catlin? Not likely Denys. Giraud.

  Full-circle, now. Absolutely full-circle.

  Hicks betrayed you, Uncle. Betrayed all of you. Jordan had been conniving with Defense. He was going to break it all open and bring Reseune down—but that wouldn’t have served Defense. If there had been no Reseune in those years, Defense would have been desperate to have one. So Defense just wanted to control Reseune, not bring it down. They already had their man inside Reseune—and they wrote their own script, not Jordan’s. They knew about the psychogenesis project. They knew it, probably, from Jordan, who’d tried it with Justin, and Jordan would have warned them not to go along with it—warned anybody who’d listen, if they’d asked.

  But the warnings wouldn’t mean a thing to Defense. They just saw a way to have a re-start on Ari Emory, a quieter, merely potential Ari Emory, who wouldn’t bother them for years, while Reseune kept their contracts, Reseune did the work for Defense, gave them what they wanted…

  But, damn! who just authorized Defense to move in on Planys? Who authorized that military base built right next to our labs?

  She leaned over the computer and posed the question:

  2404. The year the first Ari died. The year Jordan Warrick became the man in the iron mask, the prisoner at Planys.

  The military moves in, to keep him quiet. Cooperates—aids and abets—in keeping Ari’s so-called killer and their agreed ally in Reseune…away from any communication with the outside world.

  Wasn’t that a window on their real set of priorities?

  The first Ari safely dead. The second in planning.

  Jordan…silenced.

  Their installation set up at Planys, with Giraud’s consent.

  And their own man, Hicks, or Abban, with easy, constant access to Giraud’s office.

  But there was a problem with that line of reasoning.

  Hicks himself had been a victim.

  Somebody put a Rafael type in Hicks’s office—and Hicks—or somebody—put an identical into my security organization.

  So whose were they to start with?

  Hicks didn’t have the wherewithal—didn’t have the knowledge to create them. He had the authority to order it done. But how did he get it past Giraud?

  And how old is that set? When was the first one setted?

  2373. Fifty-one years ago.

  Fifty-one years ago. On the first Ari’s staff. An azi named Regis. And who could have done that?

  How to excavate that much history? Who’d been in a position to do that in those days?

  Jordan? Not old enough. Giraud himself…when he first started Operating. He could have. She’d been down this track before, but mostly Not old enough kept coming round and round and round, troubling any conclusion aiming at the people she’d like to blame. Chi Prang, head of alpha azi—holding that position a long, long time…that was the best candidate to have created someone to infiltrate the first Ari’s staff.

  But why? Whose? Chi Prang had never done a thing on record but do her job.

  Shoot off a letter to Chi Prang and just ask; did you infiltrate the first Ari’s staff, and Hicks’ staff, and now mine? It just didn’t make sense. And it kept coming down to…

  One who had been alive, and in office a hell of a long time. One who played his own side of the board, consistently, and generally not too quietly.

  In between the outbursts, you tended to forget.

  Yanni. Yanni was what he was, one of the best.

  Not necessarily a bad set of motives. But worth questioning.

  Maybe Hicks had somehow figured out there was a double agent in his office—one he daren’t touch. But he could bestow the same gift elsewhere. As Giraud had been doing. Spying on the station. Spying on the military.

  Two games had been going simultaneously. The military moving in on Planys, and getting a hold on Hicks; and Hicks knowing his own Director, Giraud, was spying on him, but Hicks moving very carefully to get at manuals in that office, so Giraud hadn’t known.

  Hell. There was one contrary possibility in that scenario.

  “Sera.” Catlin came in. Florian was right there with the coffee—three coffees. Florian knew her.

  “Sit down,” she said. “Wait. I’m thinking.”

  She hit the keyboard again. Pulled up Hicks’s age as 102. Not that old. But old enough fifty years ago. He’d taken his alpha certs when he’d acquired his assistant, who’d been from Giraud’s office—

  —AK-36, Kyle, alpha, for God’s sake…military alpha.

  She stared at the history on the screen.

  Could she be so blind? Contracted first at eighteen to the military, military intelligence, no information available, reverted to Reseune, assigned to ReseuneSec after restructuring. The law said—decommissioned alphas had to come home to Reseune. This one had come to the most natural home for his abilities. Straight from the War, year of the Treaty of Pell being 2353, to Reseune, with the decommissioning of his unit in 2358.

  Put into labs at Reseune for retraining. The routine was supposed to require the axe code, partial wipe, re-Contracting. She looked for that specific date, that specific session.

  Didn’t turn up until 2362.

  God.

  Who hadn’t given the code early on? Why not?

  Somebody wanting to debrief Kyle AK-36, and learn what he’d been into, and what he’d done for the military? Somebody who thought they’d just ask questions and mine him for all kinds of information—somebody who was an expert interrogator—and who might have reason to suspect the military?

  Somebody who wouldn’t leave traces and records in the system? Base One could do that. Up to a certain limit, Base Two or Three could do it.

  The first Ari could do that. So could Yanni. So could Giraud. So could Jane Strassen and Wendy Peterson, in those days…when the relationship with Defense, in the last days of the War, with the whole Gehenna situation, had been going quietly unpleasant.

  AK-36 himself had specialized in security. And he was alpha. He was one of those the military had used to analyze azi behaviors, to actually serve as Supervisors, before Reseune had pitched a fit about the practice and demanded that mentally damaged azi be
taken out of action and returned to Reseune, no matter the inconvenience to the military In 2350 Ari had gotten that measure through Council and snatched back azi who were routinely being mentally and physically patched together and sent back into combat. She’d had a famous row with Admiral Azov. But she’d won, which had outraged the military and set the stage for years of uneasy relations between Science and Defense…so long as Azov was in office.

  And Kyle AK-36 had been with the military for a number of years after the Treaty of Pell. Served in a classified function from which there were no records accessible. Then in 2358, by law, all remaining alpha and beta azi had come back to Reseune. Reseune, namely Giraud, must have tried to unravel him for four more years after that, learning things, maybe, maybe just trying to understand what his history really was. It was worth looking for those sessions, of which there was no readily available record. That period had ended in 2362.

  After the axe-code that ended his Contract to the military, Kyle AK-36 had been with Giraud, a skilled psych operator, skilled interrogator, trusted aide until—around 2404, when Ari died, Giraud had passed the ReseuneSec office to Adam Hicks…and passed Kyle along with it, as the one, maybe, to keep the office on an even keel under a much weaker administrator…and who could keep on reporting to Giraud.

  And who had ordered production on the Rafael types from the outset, in those years between 2358 and 2404? Search failed. But one of them had ended up in Ari’s household. And another in Hicks’s staff.

  Who’d setted the other B-28’s? No signature. That could mean Ari herself. It could mean anybody down to Giraud…or somebody working for him. Once AK-36 had finally had the axe code and become, allegedly, a Reseune azi, he’d been Giraud’s specialist assistant, between 2362 and 2404. The axe code, designed to revoke a Contract—could be a wide-ranging wipe, but wasn’t, if the azi was well setted. Ideally it just reset the Contract to None and erased specific areas of knowledge and belief, an organized amnesia. You wanted an azi to know things he could later completely forget: you linked them to the axe code. But the military theoretically couldn’t do that on his level—because they theoretically didn’t have military Supervisors at his level.

  An axe code was rough, emotionally rough, physiologically rough on an azi. And without operators like AK-36 to manage it, the military couldn’t do that anymore, and when AK-36 was sent home, he certainly couldn’t do it for himself, could he?