Free Cyteen: The Betrayal by C. J. Cherryh Page B

slightly myopic, brown-haired, unathletic biologist with a heart defect… would find astounding.
    Neither was Grant a biologist. An excellent student in tape-design, an Alpha capable of working on the structures which had made him what he was-structures wherein lay the legal difference, not in the substitution of certain sequences in the geneset, not in the wombs which gestated them.
    One infant had gone to a father’s arms, to lie in a crib in the House, to hear-nothing, at times; or to deal with the fact that Jordan Warrick might be busy at some given time, and a meal might be late, or a noise startle him—
    The other had gone to a crib where human heartbeat gave way at intervals to a soothing voice, where activity was monitored, crying measured, reactions clocked and timed-then extensive tape and training for three years until Ari had asked Jordan to take the boy in, nothing unusual: they fostered-out the suspected Alphas, as a rule, and in those days her relations with Jordan had been stormy but professional. A member of the House with a son the same age was a natural thought, and an Alpha companion was a high-status prize for a household, even at Reseune.
    I have every confidence in Justin, she had said that day to Jordan. It’s such a natural pairing. I’m perfectly willing to let that happen, on a personal basis, you understand, as long as I can continue my tapes and my tests with Grant.
    Meaning that the azi as he grew might pass into Justin’s care, become his companion-which implied her faith that young Justin would be in that small percentage licensed to work with Alphas-that Justin’s own scores would be Alpha-equivalent.
    Not entirely to her astonishment it had 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 Forgone-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