The tension went away, and Catlin gave one of her real smiles.
"He was real happy," Catlin said, the way she could go straight to the middle of something.
Of course Florian had been happy. His Super took him to bed and told him he was fine; sent him away in a heavy flux-state to deal with a Catlin fluxed as Catlin could get—her Super locking her out of the room and doing something emotional and mysterious with her partner.
So they wake up with thatload on them.
Fool, Ari. Upset them twice over, for all the wrong reasons. Can I do anything right?
They ate breakfast. Pass the salt. More coffee, sera?—While her stomach stayed upset and she tried to think and look cheerful at the same time.
Then: "Florian," she said, finally. "Catlin."
Two perfectly attentive faces turned to her, open as flowers to light.
"About last night—we're really pretty young yet. Maybe it's good to get experience with each other, so we don't get fluxed too badly if we do it with other people, because it's a way people can Work you. But the last thing we need to do is start Working each other, not meaning to, even if it is fun, because it sure gets through your guard. It got through mine."
It was Catlin she was talking to, most. And Catlin said: "It does that." With her odd laugh, difficult to catch as her true smile. "You could use that."
"You sure could," she said finally, steadier than she had been. The flux diminished, steadily, now that she knew her way. "But it's hard for CITs. I'mhaving flux problems . . . nothing I can't handle. You'll have to get used to me being just a little onnow and again; it doesn't last, it doesn't hurt me, it's part of sex with CITs, and I know I'm not supposed to discuss my psych problems with you—but now I'm onto it, I've got my balance. Nothing at all unnatural for a CIT. You know a little about it. I can tell you a lot more. I think maybe I should—use mefor an example, to start with. You aren't used to flux—" Looking straight at Catlin. "Not real strong, anyway. You did fine when Florian got hurt. But that's something you knew about. This is all new, it feels good, and it's an Older thing. Like wine. If you feel uneasy about it, you tell Florian or you tell me, all right?"
"All right," Catlin said, wide-open and very serious. "But Florian's had tape about it already, so he's all right. If he doesn't get a nowith me it's just something he's the specialist at, that's all. But I can learn it all right."
Trust Catlin. Ari paid earnest attention to her eggs, because Catlin was real good at reading her face, and she came near laughing.
Hormones were still crazy. But the brain was starting to fight back.
The brain has to win out, Ari senior had said. But the little gland at the base of the brain is the seat of a lot of the trouble. It's no accident they're so close together: God has a sense of humor.
vii
"We're giving permission," Yanni said, "for Will to assimilate the routine. Ithink—and the board thought—he'd already done it to a certain extent, from the time it started working. With its touch with deep-set values, it's not at all surprising . . . and I agree with the board: it's cause for concern."
Justin looked at the edge of Yanni's desk. Unfocused. "I agree with that," he said finally.
"What do you think about it?"
He drew a breath, hauled himself back out of the mental shadows and looked at Yanni's face—-not his eyes. "I think the board's right. I didn't see it in that perspective."
"I mean—what's your view of the problem?"
"I don't know."
"For God's sake, wake up,son. Didn't think, don't know, what in hell'sthe matter with you?"
He shook his head. "Tired, Yanni. Just tired."
He waited for the explosion. Yanni leaned forward on his arms and gave a heavy sigh.
"Grant?"
Justin looked at the wall.
"I'm damn sorry," Yanni said. "Son, it's temporary. Look, you want a schedule? He'll get his permit. It's coming."
"Of course it is," he said softly. "Of course it is. Everything's always coming. I know the damn game. I've had it, Yanni. I'm through. I'm tired, Grant's tired. I know Jordan's getting tired." He was close to tears. He stopped talking and just stared, blind, at the wall and the corner where the shelves started. A Downer spirit-stick, set in a case. Yanni had some artistic sense. Or it was a gift from someone. He had wondered that before. He envied Yanni that piece.
"Son."
"Don't call me that!" He wrenched his eyes back to Yanni, breath choking him. "Don't—call me that. I don't want to hear that word."
Yanni stared at him a long time. Yanni could rip him apart. Yanni knew him well enough. And he had given Yanni all the keys, over the years. Given him a major one now, with his reaction.
Even that didn't matter.
"Morley's sent a commendation on your work with young Benjamin," Yanni said. "He says—says your arguments are very convincing. He's going to committee with it."
The Rubin baby. Not a baby now. Aged six—a thin, large-eyed and gentle boy with a lot of health problems and a profound attachment to young Ally Morley. And in some measure—his patient.
So Yanni started hitting him in the soft spots. Predictably. He was not going to come out of this office whole. He had known that when Yanni hauled him in.
He stared at the artifact in the case.
Non-human. A gentle people humans had no right to call primitive. And of course did. And threw them into protectorate.
"Son—Justin. I'm telling you it's a temporary delay. I told Grant that. Maybe six months. No more than that."
"If I—" He was cold for a moment, cold enough at least to talk without breaking down. "If I agreed to go into detention—if I agreed to cooperate with a deep probe—about everything that's ever gone on between myself and Jordan—would that be enough to get Grant his permit?"
Long silence. "I'm not going to give them that offer," Yanni said finally. "Dammit, no."
He shifted his eyes Yanni's way. "I haven't got anything to hide. There's nothing there,Yanni, not even a sinful thought—unless you're surprised I'd like to see Reseune Administration in hell. But I wouldn't move to send them there. I've got everything to lose. Too many people do."
"I've got something to lose," Yanni said. "I've got a young man who's not a Special only because Reseune wouldn't dare bring the bill up—wouldn't dare give you that protection."
"That's a piece of garbage."
"I gave you a chance. I've taken risks with you. I didn't say I thought Will's got a problem. I'm saying that testing your routines—may have to absorb Test subjects. By their very nature. Once they've run, it takes mindwipe to remove them. That doesn't mean they're not useful."
Defense Bureau.
Test programs with mindwipe between runs—
"Justin?"
"God. God. I try to help the azi—and I've created a monstrosity for Defense. My God, Yanni—"
"Calm down. Calm down. We're not talking about the Defense Bureau."
"It willbe. Let them get wind of it—"
"A long way from Applications. Calm down."
It's my work. Without me—they can't. If something happened to me—they can't—not for a long while.
Oh, damn, all the papers, all my notes—
Grant. . . .
"Reseune doesn't give away its processes," Yanni said reasonably, rationally. "It's not in question."
"Reseune's in bedwith Defense. They have been, ever since Giraud got the Council seat."