Sarah Zettel - Reclamation

“What did you do?” Kiv asked, without even opening his eyes.

“We scavenged the datastore for enough trace information to build a couple of line ghosts and steal the runner’s side ship, the U-Kenai. Then the three of us ran for it. Dorias took off on his own. Eric and I wandered around for a couple of years, stealing for people like D’Shane…once, when we got desperate, we even stole people for D’Shane. He’d blackmailed us into it. It was after that we both decided this was no way to live.” He paused. “I should have at least lost my arm from Kessa’s dart, but I didn’t. Eric took care of that, too.” A giggle escaped him. “Took him awhile, that’s for sure. Said lucky for me he’d already had practice on Skymen, so he got it eventually. He really is amazingly useful.”

Kiv extended his arms and legs so slowly it was almost painful to watch. One eyelid at a time peeled reluctantly open.

“Perivar.” Kiv leaned across and even through the gel Perivar could smell the spicy scent that surrounded the Shessel when he got upset. “I cannot live with you like this.”

“What?” Sheer disbelief ran through him.

Kiv drew his head back and up until he towered over Perivar as far as the room would allow. “My siblings and I were the last of a line of slaves in the peninsula of Si-Tuk. After the Union treaties, I came out here so that there was no chance they’d be able to claim my children if things shredded. This is important. I swore they would never, ever be exposed to the flesh trade. I belong to my children, Perivar. I cannot ignore their welfare. Your past is your own, and I will try not to care about it, but your present is very much my concern.

“End this, Perivar, or I am severing our partnership and closing our business down.”

“Kiv,” Perivar thought about turning away but couldn’t seem to manage the movement. “Nothing like this is going to happen again.”

“You don’t know that! How can you know that!” Kiv’s whistle rose so high that Perivar flinched. “You ran for this Tasa Ad, you ran for yourself, and now you’re running for Eric Born! Who next, Perivar?”

Perivar ducked his head. “Would you mind if I shut the door for a while?”

“No.” Without another word, Kiv doubled back along his own length and flowed back to his children.

Keeping his eyes on the walls, Perivar slid the membrane housing closed. It clanged sharply against the threshold before the catch snapped shut.

Perivar stalked to the other side of the room. It didn’t help any that he knew Kiv was right. He raised his hands to run them through his hair and let them fall to his side again. He circled the room aimlessly, trying to think and then trying not to think, until his sight began to fade again. Finally, he threw himself into his chair and clamped his eyes shut. He stayed that way for a long time.

Brain’s signal sounded overhead. “Zur-Iyal ki Maliad has opened a channel and labeled the contact urgent.”

Perivar groaned. “Send her through, Brain.” He keyed the watch command in just as the view screen cleared. At the other end of the line, Iyal’s face looked unnaturally white.

“Perivar. Where did you get this sample from?”

Now what kind of question… Then Perivar remembered they hadn’t used Iyal to go over Eric’s blood. “Is there something wrong?”

“Wrong, no. I just want to know where you got your hands on a construct.”

“A what?”

“A construct. A genetically engineered life-form. I’ve only seen DNA this abbreviated in theoretical texts. What did this come from? It must be kept in a damn jar!”

“It,” Perivar bit the word off, “is a woman, Iyal. Walking, breathing, and in need of a bath, actually.”

Iyal leaned forward. “You trying to get rid of her?”

“Iyal…”

“Don’t look like that. I’m not talking about for dissection. Damn-o, Perivar, she, whatever she is, is a work of art! If we could incorporate half of what’s gone into her…”

Perivar shook his head, trying to clear enough room to think in a straight line. “Iyal, I’ve been to where she comes from. It’s a degenerated culture. They’re real good at breeding sheep, but engineering a person…”

Her mouth worked back and forth silently. “That would mean she’s a descendant, and just one of a population; otherwise, this level of mutation never would have bred true, but still, you’d think there’d be more work space…”

“Work space?” said Perivar.

Iyal nodded absently, as if most of her attention was focused on another conversation. “A large portion of any DNA string is white noise. It’s got no direct impact on the organism. What it’s there for is to reduce the risk of harmful mutation. It’s Nature’s margin for error.

“When we’re tailoring genes here, we leave all, or at least most, of that extra space in, so we can make use of that same margin for error. Whoever designed this woman’s ancestors, though, didn’t feel they needed a safety net. Which means they were either phenomenally stupid, which I doubt, or so good at what they were doing that they could make even the Vitae look like apprentice pig breeders.

“Perivar, if she’s up for grabs, we’ll take her here.”

“What would the gardens’ director have to say to that?” When she didn’t answer, Perivar felt his heart freeze up. “Oh gods, Iyal, you didn’t.”

“Perivar, there are maybe fifty completely engineered people alive in the Quarter Galaxy and none of them, I mean none of them, are this fully realized. Additions and enhancements are one thing. Anybody can throw a switch. Some places can even rewire the system. But this one…whoever built her started with some proteins in a sterile dish and went from there. If we knew even half of what went into it, we could give the Vitae a run for their market, and not just on Kethran either.

“And by the way"—her voice and face hardened together—"I’m not crazy about the fact you think I’d just get her in here and run her through a processor.”

“Iyal, at this point I don’t know what you’d do.” Which just adds another name to that list. “ You’re not talking like yourself.”

That took her back. “All right, all right.” She waved her hands aimlessly. “Yes, I showed my results to Director Id Shomat. I thought we had a calibration problem. I thought the chain could not be this short.

“He went over the whole thing again. We got the same results five times in a row and I told him… well, I told him. He told me to try to get… her… we were saying ‘it’ because what the hell did we know…here. What’s she need to be comfortable?”

Perivar felt his fingers curling up again and forced them to straighten out. “The usual things, Iyal. A place to stay, food, something she can do to keep from getting bored…Oh yeah, she needs some language lessons and she doesn’t know an input terminal from a hunk of brick.”

Iyal scratched her chin. “All right. The necessities we can fix her up with, and we could always use another field assistant that doesn’t need reprogramming. We could even pay her. What’s the going contract length for contraband where it’s legal?”

“Six years, supposedly. But I never saw a contraband really finish a contract. Permanent extensions are more the way it works. They can’t exactly protest to the labor authority.”

“Six years should do it, and then some. Will you release her to us?”

Perivar sat still for a while, listening to the hum of the utilities and the silence that was coming from behind the membrane housing.

“Perivar, what is with you?”

“Nothing. Plenty. Never mind, Iyal. I’ve just been hanging around Kiv too long, that’s all. Can you give me an hour? There are some things I need to clear up.”