Chena was right, she thought dully. I should’ve stayed put.
Well, that didn’t matter either, because Teal would never be able to tell her so.
Dionte leaned over Tam in the observation chair. His face was pale, drawn, and tired. The eyes that looked back at her were sunken in their sockets.
She looked into his face and felt nothing, nothing at all. Her Conscience told her there should be something. She knew it was wrong that her brother should look at her like this, but she could not feel that wrong.
“Don’t worry, Brother,” she told him. “You are almost done.” She made herself smile. That was the right thing to do. Why can’t I feel him? “Only a few more adjustments.”
“No,” he whispered, and winced. “No more. I was promised no more.”
“Just one more. Then you are done. Then we can talk.”
A tear trickled down Tam’s cheek and sadness hit Dionte so hard she curled her fist around the arm of the chair to keep from reeling backward. Why had he brought them to this? This was not the way it was supposed to be. They were supposed to work together for the family. He was supposed to have been beside her as they together saved Pandora. He was not supposed to be afraid of her.
What’s happening, what’s going on? She had to concentrate to keep from shaking her head to clear it out. She could not slip now. This was too important. She could not jeopardize the potential of the bond between herself and Tam, the first one they would truly share. This moment was too emotional, that was all. There was too much going on inside and outside at the same time, upsetting her balance. It would be all right again in a moment.
“It is just a matter of refining some synaptic connections in the implant filaments.” She laid her hand on his and felt how cold it was. A thousand memories flickered through her mind. Games of tag in the family gardens. Quizzing each other for math and botany tests. The passionate debates about every subject under the sun. She tried to take comfort from the future shining so brightly before them. Soon she’d have Tam’s stubborn, sharp-minded honesty to help her to think more clearly.
“You’ll be glad to know that the Trusts will soon be home safe with us as well,” she told him. “Teal is being returned as we speak, and Chena will be back soon as well.”
“Trusts… No, they are safe where they are.”
Dionte touched the probe’s command keys, strengthening the hormonal surge by a fraction of a percent. “You trust me, don’t you, Brother? I am your sister and you trust me.”
“Yes,” he said, the voice full of exhausted relief. “I trust you. I must trust you.”
“Yes, that’s right.”
But his face twisted up the new struggle. “Aleph…”
“I’m here, Tam.” Aleph’s middle-aged woman appeared on the nearest wall. “Hello, Dionte.”
“Hello, Aleph.”
“I have no further adjustments on the schedule. Tam needs to rest and recover so that his Conscience may be fully integrated.”
Dionte felt a spasm of annoyance. Of all the times for Aleph to question her. “You know that the growing of a Conscience in an adult is a delicate business. Numerous small adjustments must be made in order to assure proper integration, and sometimes it is not possible to schedule them all. This is one of those times.”
“Dionte, I know you only wish to help your brother, but he is fatigued. Look at the monitors.”
Dionte’s patience snapped. She whirled toward the wall. “I am my brother’s Guardian! This is my judgment. This is not even any of your business!”
Aleph’s image folded its hands and bowed its head. “It is my job to advise my family.”
“Well, then, you have advised! I have rejected your advice. That is my right. I will help my brother. I will help my family, and you will leave me to do my work!” She faced Tam in the chair again, trying to focus on the monitor and what it was telling her.
“Dionte…” said Aleph.
But Dionte did not turn around. She snapped the new cartridge in place and laid her hand on the input pad, subvocalizing the necessary commands.
“Aleph,” she heard Tam say. “You promised—”
“Trust me, Brother,” Dionte said firmly, as if speaking directly to his freshly active implant. “You know you must trust me.”
“Yes,” he breathed, a childlike whisper. Then, even more softly, she thought she heard him say, “Help.”
“Hagin.” Aleph opened her visual lines to the synapses. Hagin sat at his station in the cluster of monitors and desks where the tenders did most of their work. Absently she noted he was reviewing a follow-up report of her bimonthly examination.