C. Cherryh - Cyteen

The social schedule had been thrown into utter confusion, the Councillors had canceled meetings right and left, and the Councillors from Russell's and Pan-paris had sped back to Cyteen Station to make passage on a ship bound for Russell's Star, departure imminent. Their Secretaries had been left to sit proxy, one presumed, with definite instructions about their votes.

It was more than protocol that brought Giraud Nye and his brother Denys to meet the small bus as it pulled up in the circle drive at the front of Reseune.

The bus door opened. The first one down was, predictably, the azi Catlin, in the black uniform of Reseune security, her face pale and set in a forecast of trouble: she stepped down and reached back to steady Ari as Ari made the single step—Ari in pale blue, carrying her briefcase herself as usual, and with no visible indication of triumph or catastrophe until she looked straight at Giraud and Denys with an expression that foretold real trouble.

"Your office," she said to Denys. Behind her, exiting onto the concrete with the rest of the staff, Giraud saw Jordan Warrick, who was not supposed to be with that flight, who had flown out five days ago on RESEUNE ONE and was supposed to come back at the end of the week, on a RESEUNEAIR special flight.

There was trouble. Warrick arriving in Ari's company was as great a shock as Centrists and Expansionists suddenly bedding down together. Warrick's staff was not with him, only his azi chief-of-Household, Paul, who followed along with a sober, anxious look, carrying a flight-kit.

Abban might collect gossip from the staff, the ones who were Family, and free to talk. Giraud gave Abban the order and fell in with Ari and Denys, silent Florian heading off to the left hall the moment they cleared the doors, Catlin walking along behind with Denys' azi Seely.

Not a word until they were inside Denys' inmost office, and Denys turned on the unit that provided sound-screening in the room. Then:

"We've got a problem," Ari said, opening the briefcase very carefully, very precisely on the expensive imported veneer of Denys' desk.

"Hope's in trouble?" Denys asked, accepting the fiche she handed him. "Or is it Jordan?"

"Gorodin is promising us unanimous approval for Hope—if Jordan gets a liaison post at a Fargone military psych facility we're going to have hidden in our budget."

"God," Giraud said, and sat down.

"You tell me how you buy Mikhail Corain's vote, and why Jordan Warrick's transfer has to be part of Gorodin's bargain."

Giraud had no doubts. It was certain that Ari had none.

"He's become a problem," Ari said.

"We can't touch him," Giraud said. Panic welled up in him. Sometimes Ari forgot she had limits, or that prudence did.

"He's counting on that, isn't he?" So, so quietly. Ari settled into the remaining chair. "It still has to be voted. It doesn't need to be voted until the facility exists. And we just got the appropriation."

Giraud was sweating. He resisted the impulse to mop his face. The sound-screening tended to make his teeth ache, but at the moment the discomfort was mostly in his gut.

"Well, it's not that bad," Denys said, and tilted his chair back, folding his hands on his ample stomach. "We can map this out. Jordie's being a fool.

We can merge his wing right back into Administration, absorb his staff and his records, that for a start."

"He's not a fool," Ari said. "I want to know if we're missing files."

"You think he's left something in Novgorod?"

"What's ever stopped him?"

"Dammit," Giraud said, "Ari, I warned you. I warned you."

Ari tilted her head, regarding him sidelong. "I'll tell you one thing: even if he goes, son Justin won't."

"We've got five more years of budget to fight through! What in hell are we going to do when Jordie's out there in front of the cameras?"

"Don't worry about it."

"What do you mean, don't worry about it?"

"He's here, isn't he? Left his aides, his staff, everyone but Paul in Novgorod. I didn't confront him about the leak. I just sent Florian to advise him he was wanted. He's well aware what he's done and that I know he's done it."

"If you touch him– Listen to me. He won't have done this without advance preparation. God knows what kind of harm he can do us. Or what kind of information he's smuggled out of here. My God, I didn't see this coming."

"Jordan and his little feuds. His requests for transfer. His bickering on staff. Oh, we're still friendly. We have our little policy debates. We had one on the way home. And smiled at each other over drinks. Why not? There's always the chance I believed Gorodin."

"He knows damn well you didn't!"

"And he knows that I know that he knows, round and round. So we smile at each other. I'll tell you something: I'm not worried. He's sure I won't move until I know what he's got. He's manipulating the situation. Our Education Special thinks he's the best there is. He's gambling everything on things going the way he predicts. He'll make me a counter-offer soon. And I'll make mine. And that's how we'll pass the months. He's sure he can match me move for move. We'll see. I'm going to my apartments. I'm sure Florian's run his checks by now. I'm going to have a shower, put my feet up a while, and read the logs. And have a decent meal. Formal dinner tonight. It's a session-end, isn't it? Catlin can approve the menu."

"I'll tell the staff," Denys said. The thought of food turned Giraud's stomach.

"It's not a total disadvantage," she said. "Have you seen the news? The Centrist coalition is showing seams this morning. Corain's made Ianni Merino very, very upset. An old hand like Corain—this is moving much too fast for him. Corain had his people ready to walk, now he shifts stance on them—the Abolitionists will suspect a sell-out. . . won't they? Let the Abolitionists peel off and start talking about dismantling the labs again. It's bound to make the moderates a little anxious."

"That's where Jordan can do us the most damage! If he goes to the press—"

"Oh, you don't think the Abolitionists are going to credit a voice out of Reseune."

"If he's saying the right things they damn well will."

"Then we have to do something about his credibility, don't we? Think about it, Gerry. Corain's going to end up acquiescing—no, voting for – the establishment of a Reseune lab right on the Hope colony route. The Abolitionists haven't gotten saner, just quieter; and we have our own sleepers in their rank and file. Keep Corain quite busy putting out fires on his own decks. Gorodin may find the whole noise a bit more than he wants: there are always deals we can offer him: he always stands with his feet either side of the line. Lu is the problem, that double-crossing bastard. But we can persuade him. This facility is exactly the kind of thing that may do it. I want you to look into these things, I don't need to tell you how discreetly. Use your military contacts. The Science Bureau is dispatching a ship to notify Rubin of his status. They're also going to take measures to establish him a protective residency in Fargone Blue Zone: the team is on its way Sunday, when Atlantis pushes off for Fargone."

"Harogo's going to be aboard?" Denys asked.

"Absolutely. There's not going to be a hitch. He'll get our staff right through customs, and Atlantis is running light."

"Military can beat her."

"A worry. But Harogo's a much higher card, on his own station, and he's bringing home the second biggest construction project Fargone's ever lusted after. First being the Hope corridor, of course. There won't be a hitch. If the Centrists try anything with Rubin, Harogo can fry them, no question. We'd love that kind of ammunition. Did you see the clip? Rubin's a wide-eyed innocent. Pure science and total vulnerability. I thought that came across rather well."