C. Cherryh - Cyteen

"Maintain would have been a more variable word than defend," Justin said, "but defend brings all sorts of baggage with it, if any of your group are socialized. And you say three are. The AJ, the BY and one of the IUs. Which means, you're quite right, that you've got three who are likely going to do the interpretation and the initial flux-thinking; which means your value-sets are going to come very strongly off these three points. Which is going to hold them together tolerably well to start with, because they're all three military sets. And they're likely going to see that 'defend the base' is a multi-generational problem. But your Alpha is likely to be less skilled at communication than the Beta. So I'll reckon that's your leader. The Beta."

"Huh. But the Alpha can get around her."

"As an adviser. That's my suggestion. But the smarter the Alpha is, the less likely his instructions are going to make any immediate sense. He'll dominate as long as it's a matter of azi psychsets. But he'll lose his power as the next generation grows up. Won't he? Unless he's more socialized than the Beta."

"They don't have rejuv. It's a hard life. They're going to die around fifty and sixty. So the kids won't be much more than twenty or so before they're going on just what they could learn."

"Your Beta's instructions are likely to be more near-term, less abstract, more comprehensible to the young ones."

"My Alpha founds a religion."

"God. He'd have to be awfully well socialized. And machiavellian. Besides, it's not an azi kind of thing to do."

"Just practical."

"But, given that he does, would the kids understand the value of the instruction? Or wouldn't it just go to memorizing the forms and ritual? Ritual is a damned inefficient transmission device, and it generates its own problems. —I think we'd better start working this out in numbers and sets, and get some solid data, before we get too far into speculations. I'm not sure your Alpha can win out over the Beta in any sense. You're likely to lose virtually all his input. And you're likely to end up with a matrilinear culture in that instance—and a very small directorate if it's by kinships. The question is whether kinships are instinctive or cultural. . . I'm cheating on that, because I've read the Bureau reports on Gehenna. But they're not going to resolve it, because there were CITs in the Gehenna colony."

She had lunch with Maddy; and heard the latest in the Amy-'Stasi feud. Which made her mad. "I could kill Stef Dietrich," Maddy said.

"Don't bother," Ari said. "I'll bet Yvgenia's already thought of that."

Mostly she thought about the colony-problem, around the edges of the Amy-'Stasi thing. And thought: Damn, the minute anything goes CIT, everybody's crazy, aren't they?

The office was shut when she got back. She waited at the door and waited, and finally Justin showed up, out of breath.

"Sorry," he said, and unlocked. (Although she could have had Base One do it, through Security 10, but that was overkill, and made Security records, and meant papers. So she didn't.)

"Grant's got some stuff over at Sociology," he said. "He's running a paper for me. I do get work done outside of this—"

He was in a good mood. It cheered her up. She took the cup of coffee he made for her and sat down and they started at it again. "Let's assume," he said, "that whether or not kinships are instinctual, your socialized azi are likely to replicate the parent culture."

"Makes sense," she said.

"Likely quite thoroughly. Because they'll place abstract value on it, as the source of the orders."

She had never noticed the way he bit at his lip when he was thinking. It was a boyish kind of thing, when mostly he looked so mature. And he smelled good. A lot like Ollie. A lot like Ollie.

And she couldn't help thinking about it.

He and Grant were lovers. She knew that from gossip in the House. She couldn't imagine it.

Except at night, when she was lying in the dark looking at the ceiling and wondering what made them that way and whether—

–whether he had any feelings about her, and whether it was all just worry about Security that made him want Grant there all the time. Like he needed protection.

She liked being close to him. She always had.

She knew what was the matter finally. She felt the flux strong enough to turn everything upside down, and felt a lump in her throat and outright missed his next question.

"I—I'm sorry."

"The second-generation run. You're assuming matrilineal."

She nodded. He made a note. Tapped the paper. She got up to see, leaning by the arm of his chair. "You should have had an instructional tape in the lot to cover family units. Do you want to input one?"

"I—"

He looked over his shoulder at her. "Ari?"

"I'm sorry. I just lost things a minute."

He frowned. "Something wrong?"

"I—a couple of friends of mine are having a fight. That's all. I guess I'm a little gone-out." She looked at the printout. And felt sweat on her temples. "Justin, —did you ever—did you ever have trouble with being smart?"

"I guess I did." A frown came between his brows and he turned the chair and leaned his arm on the desk, looking up at her. "I didn't think of it like that, but I guess that was one of the reasons."

"Did you—" O God, this was scary. It could go wrong. But she was in it now. She leaned up against the chair, against him. "Did you ever have trouble with being older than everybody?" She took a breath and slid her hand onto his shoulder and sat down on the chair arm.

But he got up, fast, so fast she had to stand up to save herself from falling.

"I think you'd better talk this over with your uncle," he said.

Nervous. Real nervous. Probably, she thought, uncle Denys had said something to him. That made her mad. "Denys doesn't have a thing to say about what I do," she said, and came up against him and held on to his arm. "Justin, —there's nobody my own age I'm interested in. There isn't anybody. It doesn't hurt, I mean, I sleep-over with anybody I want. All the time."

"That's fine." He disengaged his arm and turned and picked up some papers off his desk. His hands were shaking. "Go back to them. I engaged to teach you, not—whatever."

She had trouble getting her breath. That was a hell of a reaction. It was scary, that a man reacted that way to her. He just gathered up his stuff, went to the door.

As the door opened and Grant stood there taking in what he saw, with small moves of his eyes.

"I'm going home," Justin said. "Closing up early today. How did the run go?"

"Fine," Grant said, and came in and laid it down, ignoring her presence, ignoring everything that had gone on.

"The hell," Ari said, and to Justin: "I want to talk to you."

"Not today."

"What are you doing? Throwing me out?"

"I'm not throwing you out. I'm going home. Let's give us both a little chance to cool off, all right? I'll see you in the morning."

Her face was burning. She was shaking. "I don't know what my uncle told you, but I can find something to tell him, you just walk out on me. Get out of here, Grant! Justin and I are talking!"

Grant went to the door, grabbed Justin's arm and shoved him out. "Get out of here," Grant said to him. And when Justin protested: "Out!" Grant said to him. "Go home. Now."

They had the door blocked. She was scared of a sudden—more scared when Grant argued Justin out the door and closed her in the office.

In a moment Grant came back. Alone. And closed the door again.

"I can call Security," she said. "You lay a hand on me and I'll swear Justin did it. You watch me!"

"No," Grant said, and held up a hand. "No, young sera. I'm not threatening you. Certainly I won't. I ask you, please, tell me what happened."