Cyteen: The Betrayal by C. J. Cherryh

going in Gorodin’s own time.
    “You level with me,” Gorodin said, “about the Fargone project.”
    “Say it’s genetics. It’s experimental.”
    “Are you going to have advanced labs out there?”
    “No. Medical wing. Analysis.- Administrative work. None of the classified equipment.”
    “Meaning you’re following-up, not creating.”
    “In practical terms, yes. No birthlab.” Gorodin looked at the empty cup, and at the two azi, and held his out.
    “Florian,” Ariane said, and the azi, with a quiet nod, took the pot from the sideboard and filled it. Gorodin followed Florian’s moves with his eyes, thoughts proceeding.
    “You can rely on their discretion,” Ariane said. “It’s quite all right. They’re not sensitive to discussion. Reseune’s best work. Aren’t you, Florian?”
    “Yes, sera,” Florian said, preparing her second cup. He offered it.
    “Beauty and brains,” Ariane said, and smiled with the mouth, not the eyes. “Alliance won’t develop birthlabs. They have no worlds to fill.”
    “Yet. We have to think about that. -Who’s going to manage that facility at Fargone?”
    “Yanni Schwartz.”
    Gorodin frowned, and sipped slowly at the incongruously tiny cup.
    Ah, Ariane thought. Now, now, we get closer to it.
    “I’ll tell you, Dr. Emory. A lot of my people rely on the psych hospital at Viking. For reasons which are only politics-I’d like to have a facility a lot closer to that Hope Station route you’re promoting. I’d like to have a place to send some of my worse cases-where Cyteen won’t take them through the station facility.”
    “Any particular reason for that?”
    “We’re talking about special operations. People whose IDs change. People whose faces-you understandI don’t want seen. These are people who live anxious lives. They feel exposed at the big stations. They’d feel a hell of a lot better if there were a way to get to a Reseune facility-not on Cyteen.”
    Ariane frowned, not bothering to hide her perplexity. It sounded halfway sane.
    “What I want,” Gorodin said, “is access. A facility where my people feel-safe. Where I know they are. I want to throw some of the covert budget in there. Some of my staff.”
    “No military.”
    “We’re talking about unanimous support for that facility. I can deliver that.”
    “No military. Reseune staff. And it better be a damn large contribution. You’ll force a redesign. I’m not having my project compromised by your people strolling through Reseune boundaries. There’ll be a total separation between any military hospital and our offices.”
    “We can go with that. But we want a liaison between our side and yours that we have confidence in. Someone we’ve worked with.”
    The thought hit like ice water. It was hard not to react, to keep the fingers relaxed on the fragile handle of the cup. “Who did you have in mind?”
    “Dr. Warrick. He designed the training tapes. We want him, Dr. Emory.”
    “Does he want you?” Calmly. Very calmly.
    “We can ask him.”
    “I think I know your source, admiral. I’m damned sure I know your source. What else did he tell you?”
    “I think you’re jumping to conclusions.”
    “No, I’m not. I was afraid of something like this. You want him, do you? You want a man in charge of your highest security operations, who quite readily betrayed my interests.”
    “I’ve told you my sources.”
    “Of course you have. You’re quite willing to have some Hayes employee’s head on the block, some poor sod of an engineer, no doubt, that they’ll find a way to blame if I come down on them. You want Jordan Warrick. Did he tell you why?”
    “He didn’t tell me anything.”
    “Admiral, you’re a damn good poker player, but remember how I make my living. Remember how he makes his. What’s he done? Offered to go public with his opinions? Is that how you’ll guarantee me Corain?”
    “Dr. Emory, you know I can deliver what I promise.”
    “Of course you can. And Jordan