And into the afternoon.
Grant ordered sandwiches delivered. With cream pastry. Justin devoured his, reading and annotating the while. One set to go, a fairly simple one. He’d been over it twenty times. He’d done all the betas to try to understand the type. He didn’t find a handle on it, anywhere, and it wasn’t right. It wasn’t right, it wasn’tthe level of work that belonged on a Contract she was taking. At first he’d suspected subtlety. Then he’d suspected error. Now he had a different picture. Library censorship. Again.
He said to Grant: “You know what I think? I don’t think Library’s given us all the records yet. Florian thought he had that cleared up. But I don’t think he did.”
“It would answer your objection.”
“We’re two weeks overdue on this. But I’m afraid it’s the fact they’re security. Ari’s going to have to go back to Library one more time on her access. There’s something still we haven’t gotten.”
“It would answer the question,” Grant said. “You’re right, and after the last round, I wouldn’t want to be in the librarian’s shoes. You get to write the memo, born‑man.”
BOOK THREE Section 1 Chapter vii
JUNE 7, 2424
1542H
The azi in question, BR‑283, was a nice‑looking fellow, Catlin observed that on the monitor, while BR‑283, Rafael, was deep asleep–nice face, nice body, dark as Florian–taller than Florian.
But absolutely no attraction here, just an aesthetic note. Rafael BR wasn’t Florian, and wouldn’t be, being a beta–a situation which suited her. Betas took orders. Alphas didn’t need orders, just a goal. Sera had explained the situation to her, as much as, in sera’s judgement, she needed to know, and prime among sera’s instructions was the posited call, every fifteen minutes, while she was on this assignment. She was to beware any food or drink offered by lab staff. She was to disobey any command to leave or submit to detention, herself, but if held, she should not risk injury–just wait for sera to take action…within the next fifteen minutes.
That was advisement enough that sera considered these tapes important to give personally to four of the new security team. The situation itself hardly seemed dicey: walk into the labs with the tape–possibly containing the Contract itself–invoke sera’s name and sera’s order to gain access and order this group to lab, where she personally installed each tape, waving off the assistance of staff.
And it had run for a relatively tedious hour and forty‑two minutes, while Rafael BR and the other three of sera’s choosing slept with eyes occasionally open, and occasionally reacted, or smiled, or concentrated.
Contracting didn’t take long. So what else were the tapes? That wasn’t hard to guess. They were probably primary tapes, a slightly amended refresher on the most basic sets. Tapes like that were generally quite pleasant, an hour or so of confirmation, affirmation–a transcendental experience, when a Supervisor offered it to a troubled or stressed azi. In this case it was likely some patch to enable the four to work together under BR‑283’s direction.
And since sera had the accesses she did, and she’d signed for them and meant to deliver the Contract tape herself, she was perfectly within her rights to order it, and to order that her own staff carry out the request–for BR‑283, and for BG‑8, BJ‑190, and BB‑291, the same, even if the four were listed as ReseuneSec. A note might have gone to Hicks, but Hicks hadn’t intervened.
The other three were in the adjacent rooms, on the other three active monitors, affording a constant view, two of them on the same tape, one on a third, and all, presumably, experiencing primary tape, blissful and content.
They were also all on the same schedule, the tape very soon to run out, by the individual counters. And after that, they would enjoy a little peaceful sleep. Tedious, but she’d stay until they waked naturally. She’d bring them up the hill herself, the core members of the team Hicks had provided, having passed them through a sieve and having assured they were settled, in advance of the others.
More, sera provided her own tape without a ReseuneSec indexing sticker on it: they were ReseuneSec personnel, and the lab had taken a momentary issue with that, and had wanted to call the lab supervisor and Hicks about it, but Catlin had stood fast, maintaining that, indeed, sera did hold the Contracts, was a licensed Alpha Supervisor–there were five such in all of Reseune proper…six, counting Jordan Warrick–and if a Beta tape issued from an Alpha Supervisor’s office, then a Beta Supervisor should accept it and run the tape as requested.
“My principal,” Catlin had reminded the man with some firmness, “ isAriane Emory.”
One could watch the thoughts pass through the Supervisor’s eyes–a born‑man considering his career options, perhaps. He hadn’t been more cheerful after that, but he’d been polite. And he’d let her insert the tapes she’d brought, giving her access to a whole row of lab beds, clearing two other doubtlessly deserving azi who’d been scheduled for the afternoon.
“This is sera’s business,” Catlin had remarked further, as severely as possible, “and intimately pertains to her household. She will appreciate discretion. Your name is John Elway. Mine is Catlin AC‑7892. I will report.”
Reading born‑men was possible, when they were strongly conflicted. The man just nodded, and likely had notmade a phone call to higher levels, even yet.
Twitch of BR‑283’s head. Catlin looked critically at that subject, and let it pass. Possibly he’d just met a small alteration in his program. The dose had been heavy. BR‑283 probably could have taken the tape without the drug…but he was deep enough that a twitch was unusual.
Twitch became a tic. Jerk of the hands. “Let the tape run,” sera had told her. “Let it complete.”
The subject sat bolt upright, eyes staring, then vaulted off the couch, right into the wall–a wall that assuredly was not there in BR‑283’s vision. He rebounded against the couch, fighting for balance.
He was dangerous in this state, dangerous to himself. He hit another wall, hard. His forehead was bleeding.
There was a red button that could call help. Catlin opted not to use it. By the clock, she was due to call base. She touched the com button on her shoulder and said, “Catlin here. There’s been a reaction.”
The micro receiver in her right ear said, in sera’s voice, “ I’m coming.”
The other subjects were getting to the end of their tape sessions withouthurling themselves off their couches. There was onesubject huddled on the floor in a fetal tuck in the corner, one subject in the throes of a psychotic episode from the deeptape he’d been given–and that individual happened to be the officer Hicks had put in charge of the unit. Rafael BR‑283.
That said something. And John Elway had not come to assess the progress of the session. In a little bit more, John Elway would have visitors to the section, visitors who would not be prevented. She watched the other azi, walked to the one‑way glass and looked at BR‑283, who had gotten into a corner the camera didn’t completely reach. He was bleeding down his face, shaking and rocking. It wasn’t a pleasant sight.
It was 1601h, by her watch, when someone came down the hall outside. She drew her sidearm–one never assumed the other side wasn’t prepared to shoot–and faced the opaque door.
It opened, and it was sera, with Florian, a very welcome sight, with Wes for reinforcement. John Elway had come in among them, looking upset, and two of his staff attended, just ahead of Wes, but sera didn’t seem worried in the least about them, only about the business at hand.
Catlin said, holstering her sidearm, “A reaction, sera, in the unit senior.”
“Well,” was all sera said, and sera went to the monitors, on which three azi were quiet, likely asleep; and then went to the window of the first room, assessing the situation. Sera punched that button for communication and said, softly, “Rafael. Rafael.”
The subject convulsed, and knotted himself tighter into the corner.
“This is Ariane Emory, your Contract and your Supervisor. I’ve come to help you. Can you get up?”