Adam-Troy Castro - The Third Claw of God

Jelaine saw me watching Skye. “Fascinating. The way you use them.”

I stiffened. “I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Please, Counselor. I’m not belittling your friends—or friend, if you prefer the singular. How troublesome, referring to them can be! I can see that they’re not just assistants to you. But you’re using them as a resource right now, aren’t you? You’re using their shared perspective to gather as much intelligence as possible.” She sipped her own drink, a golden concoction in a flute. “Forgive me my sense of wonder. They’re the first linked pair I’ve ever met.”

Cylinked pairs may be rare, since the AIsource procedure that creates them is illegal on most human worlds, but I found a Bettelhine’s protestations of sheltered naïveté hard to believe. “Jason told me he had a crush on a pair of cylinked women who worked for an uncle. He said they visited the main estate on a regular basis.”

She placed a placatory hand on my wrist. “Yes, I know. I was there when he told you, remember? But you won’t find a contradiction here. I do know who he’s talking about, but I was a very naïve young girl at the time and thought they were just close in the usual way young ladies can be close. I’m afraid I never watched them at length and never registered how they functioned as a unit. I never even heard them speak at the same time, the way your lovely Oscin and Skye do. Is it really so terrible for me to be dazzled, a little? Even a little envious?”

“No,” I said, watching Skye chuckle as the Bettelhine men glanced my way. I supposed I’d become a subject of conversation. “I suppose not.”

“How did you ever meet them?”

I almost launched into a summary of my posting to the cylinder world known as One One One, but stopped myself and appraised Jelaine anew. “You know, you’re very good.”

She went wide-eyed. “At what?”

“The way you pulled me aside with hints of explanation, delayed me with a drink, and now change the subject to something safe. The way you give the impression you’ve opened up without telling me a damn thing. The way you take a wary and unpleasant person who has no intention of making friends and make her relax in her presence. Whatever else you are, you’re a born politician. But I’m not fooled, and I’m losing my patience. What is this all about? ”

Her secretive smile never wavered. Only her eyes reacted, and then with a twinkle of affection. “I was told you could be difficult, Andrea. I was also told that you’re well worth the effort. I do want to be friends.”

I almost demanded to know who the hell told her that, since the Porrinyards were pretty much the only people I knew capable of tolerating me without being ordered to. But it would have meant changing the subject again. “The explanation. Please.”

She sighed, betraying not irritation but a deep, pervading sadness that might have been about me and might have been about something else. For a moment I could see the same shadow of terrible suffering I’d spotted on Jason’s face. “You may have guessed at least part of this already, but you’re here, at least in part, for what might loosely be termed a job interview.”

“No shit.”

“Not at all. My father has a specific position in mind, and believes that he can offer you terms capable of luring you away from your current employers.”

She had to mean the Corps, as she couldn’t have known about my association with the AIsource. “No.”

She raised an eyebrow. “We know that you’re not happy with the way the Corps has treated you. It can’t be home.”

“It isn’t. In fact, I hate the bastards. But neither am I eager to sell my loyalty to an organization I’ve always considered evil for a little more money and a slightly fancier job title.”

“I appreciate that, Andrea, but there are factors here that you can’t possibly guess. It wouldn’t be a little more money. Or a slightly fancier job title. And evil is only a function of how the power’s used. Frankly, I believe that my father will be able to make the case that your loyalty’s a commodity better invested with us at this critical point in your history than with any of those self-righteous slavemasters at New London.”

She seemed so sure. But then, a sense of entitlement, of being able to collect people, would just naturally go along with being a Bettelhine. “I’m still not hearing any answers.”

She sighed. “My father really does deserve the pleasure of telling you the whole thing. He’s done so much to arrange this, and it will mean so much to him. But perhaps I can save him some time covering the background.”

“Anything,” I said.

“Well, let’s start with this. Have you ever experienced a turning point? One of those moments so profound that it not only changed your life after that moment, but also how you interpreted everything you’d seen and done beforehand?”

I thought of the day I’d lost my family on Bocai, of my mission to the world known as Catarkhus, and of the way the Porrinyards had looked at me after the second time they’d saved my life in just about as many days. “Yes.”

“Well, as it happens, the fortunes of the Bettelhine Family have experienced such a historic moment, one that’s likely to alter the way we conduct business and how we relate to the rest of human civilization.”

“Would this be Jason’s disappearance?”

The guess did not surprise her. “Would it surprise you to hear that his absence almost destroyed us?”

“No.”

“You’re alone, then. I know what people say about us. They look at all the damage we’ve done, at the blood spilled because of us, and declare us soulless monsters profiting off human lives. I’d wager half my share in the family fortune that you’ve said something like it yourself, certainly before you got here and absolutely since you’ve arrived. Am I right?”

I decided not to insult her with empty denials. “Your money would be safe.”

“We’re used to that. But sometimes, when we suffer a family trauma, outsiders don’t even give us credit for the ability to feel for our own. They question our tears and attribute our grief to public relations. It’s different when you’re in the middle of it. It almost tore us apart.”

“I understand.”

“No, Andrea, with all due respect, and more affection than you could possibly know, I don’t think you do. A missing child is supposed to be horrible for any family, and I’m certain it is, but I think a big family with a small mob of children, like ours, feels it more. The suffering, the fear for him, the sense of loss, is not subdivided, as you’d suppose, but multiplied. We all reflected each other’s heartbreak and uncertainty, and we all felt more hopeless in the face of it. But that may have been a good thing, in the long run. We may have been the first generation of my family in many years to not grow up feeling invulnerable.”

“What about you?”

“I’m not arrogant enough to say that it was worse for me than for any of the others, but I became a shadow of myself. Jason and I were about the same age, and up until that day he’d always been my closest friend among all my brothers and sisters.”

The hubbub of soft music and surrounding conversation seemed as far away as New London. For the moment, at least, there was no one in the room but us. “Why did he leave?”

“In part, idealism; in part foolish rebellion. He thought he’d return home a conquering hero. I was such a starry-eyed little idiot that I believed him, and even wished him luck when he left. To my eternal shame, I even helped him slip away.”

“That must have gone over well.”