Free Cherryh, C J - Alliance-Union 08 by Cyteen Trilogy V1 1 html Page B

worked out very well. The correction was a routine one, minor, not likely to affect the azi's intelligence, . . . although, within certain parameters, that had not been a primary concern in creating the set.
    So, so convenient to have a link to troublesome Jordan in those years, not informational, since there was hardly anything a ten-, a thirteen-year-old azi knew in the House that she did not.
    But one never knew—when it might be of use.
    She finished the salad, chatted with Giraud while the serving staff took away the plates and brought in the next course: a fine ham. Terrestrial pigs thrived at Reseune, on the residue of the gardens, in sufficient numbers to provide seed stock for several other farms. Pigs and goats, humankind's oldest and hardiest foodstock, with sense enough not to poison themselves on a stray sprig of native shrubbery.
    Horses and cattle had the damnedest self-destructive bent.
    "Do you know," she said, over the dessert, a simple ice, tangy and pleasant. "We are going to have to make some far-reaching adjustments in staff."
    Amazing how many ears were pricked at table, and how quiet a room could get, when she was only speaking to Denys.
    "I really don't anticipate any difficulty with the Hope bill." They were all listening now, not pretending to do otherwise. She smiled at her family, put down the spoon and picked up the little cup of strong coffee. "You know how to read that. No difficulty. Forget the news reports. Everything is proceeding tolerably well on schedule, and we have a very exciting prospect in front of us . . . certainly a very exciting prospect, a military psych facility at Fargone—in addition. Which is going to make a real difference in operations here. You can congratulate Jordan for laying the groundwork—really, just everything that may put the Hope route in our laps; and the new labs; everything. That's what's going on. Jordan should have a lot of the credit for that."
    Jordan's face was absolutely devoid of expression. "Let's drop the pretense. We're home, we're not in front of the cameras."
    Ari flashed a smile. "Jordan, I don't bear you the least ill will. I'm sorry if that offends you, but you've done Reseune—and me—a great favor. I truly don't begrudge you the rewards of it."
    "The hell!"
    Ari laughed gently and took another sip of coffee. "Jordie, dear, I know you'd like to have upstaged me with this; but as it happens, Gorodin came to me, and I'm going to give you everything you asked for, on a platter. You'll get that long-awaited transfer, you and anyone in your wing who wants to go to Fargone, just as soon as the official request for military liaison comes down the tubes."
    "What is this?" Yanni Schwartz asked.
    "I don't say it'll be a bad thing," Ari said quite honestly, still smiling. "I'm not pulling surprises on you, Yanni—Jordan pulled this one on me. I think everyone should think about it, those who'll prefer to go out to the frontier, those who'd rather stay with the comforts of Reseune—God knows, some of us would miss ham and fresh fruit. But the opportunities out there are worth thinking about." Another sip of coffee, slow and thoughtful, watching Jordan's eyes like a fencer. "The Educational wing here will continue, of course. There are some of you we can't transfer, you understand that. We'll have to restructure here, rather well replicate the whole wing—" A little wider smile. It was a joke. Suli Schwartz woke up, a quick look around to see if people were supposed to laugh. "Jordie, you'll have to lay out some recommendations."
    "Of course," Jordan said. "But I'm sure you'll use your own list."
    She laughed, to keep it polite. "You know damn well I will. But I really will respect your choices wherever I can—after all, I'll assume anyone on your list wants to transfer, and I'll assume you want them. Yanni, you can deal with Jordie on that."
    There was a growing wariness behind the attentive faces. Young Suli finally seemed to have understood what