Reclamation

"A what?"

"A construct. A genetically engineered life-form. I've only seen DNA this abbreviated in theoretical texts. What did this come from? It must be kept in a damn jar!"

"It," Perivar bit the word off, "is a woman, Iyal. Walking, breathing, and in need of a bath, actually."

Iyal leaned forward. "You trying to get rid of her?"

"Iyal…"

"Don't look like that. I'm not talking about for dissection. Damn-o, Perivar, she, whatever she is, is a work of art! If we could incorporate half of what's gone into her…"

Perivar shook his head, trying to clear enough room to think in a straight line. "Iyal, I've been to where she comes from. It's a degenerated culture. They're real good at breeding sheep, but engineering a person…"

Her mouth worked back and forth silently. "That would mean she's a descendant, and just one of a population; otherwise, this level of mutation never would have bred true, but still, you'd think there'd be more work space…"

"Work space?" said Perivar.

Iyal nodded absently, as if most of her attention was focused on another conversation. "A large portion of any DNA string is white noise. It's got no direct impact on the organism. What it's there for is to reduce the risk of harmful mutation. It's Nature's margin for error.

"When we're tailoring genes here, we leave all, or at least most, of that extra space in, so we can make use of that same margin for error. Whoever designed this woman's ancestors, though, didn't feel they needed a safety net. Which means they were either phenomenally stupid, which I doubt, or so good at what they were doing that they could make even the Vitae look like apprentice pig breeders.

"Perivar, if she's up for grabs, we'll take her here."

"What would the gardens' director have to say to that?" When she didn't answer, Perivar felt his heart freeze up. "Oh gods, Iyal, you didn't."

"Perivar, there are maybe fifty completely engineered people alive in the Quarter Galaxy and none of them, I mean none of them, are this fully realized. Additions and enhancements are one thing. Anybody can throw a switch. Some places can even rewire the system. But this one…whoever built her started with some proteins in a sterile dish and went from there. If we knew even half of what went into it, we could give the Vitae a run for their market, and not just on Kethran either.

"And by the way"—her voice and face hardened together—"I'm not crazy about the fact you think I'd just get her in here and run her through a processor."

"Iyal, at this point I don't know what you'd do." Which just adds another name to that list. "You're not talking like yourself."

That took her back. "All right, all right." She waved her hands aimlessly. "Yes, I showed my results to Director Id Shomat. I thought we had a calibration problem. I thought the chain could not be this short.

"He went over the whole thing again. We got the same results five times in a row and I told him…well, I told him. He told me to try to get…her…we were saying 'it' because what the hell did we know…here. What's she need to be comfortable?"

Perivar felt his fingers curling up again and forced them to straighten out. "The usual things, Iyal. A place to stay, food, something she can do to keep from getting bored…Oh yeah, she needs some language lessons and she doesn't know an input terminal from a hunk of brick."

Iyal scratched her chin. "All right. The necessities we can fix her up with, and we could always use another field assistant that doesn't need reprogramming. We could even pay her. What's the going contract length for contraband where it's legal?"

"Six years, supposedly. But I never saw a contraband really finish a contract. Permanent extensions are more the way it works. They can't exactly protest to the labor authority."

"Six years should do it, and then some. Will you release her to us?"

Perivar sat still for a while, listening to the hum of the utilities and the silence that was coming from behind the membrane housing.

"Perivar, what is with you?"

"Nothing. Plenty. Never mind, Iyal. I've just been hanging around Kiv too long, that's all. Can you give me an hour? There are some things I need to clear up."

"An hour I can give you, but not much more. Cousin Director is about ready to start eating the carpet over here."

"All right. I'll get things…straightened out on this end as soon as I can, Iyal."

"I'll be waiting. And, Perivar…" she hesitated. "I may end up owing you the favor for this. Hope to see you soon."

"Yeah." He shut the channel down.

"All right, Kiv. You win." Perivar hoisted himself to his feet and knocked on his living room door.

No answer came, so Perivar pushed the door aside. Aria sat on the sofa with her face to the door, but she did not look up. Her eyes were closed, and her hands were cupped around a small white sphere that gleamed in the light that shone through the windows.