There had been a debate then, and Chena brought up the sub-branch for it. Most of the family wanted to give over the cure to the Authority and the Called, and believed firmly that Pandora would then be left alone. But some of them… Chena’s eyes took in the words and she felt herself go cold. Some of them said the cure could be used as a weapon. Immune from all kinds of infection, Eden, or a host of Edens, could go out into the Called and spread diseases engineered in the hot-house labs without having to worry about accidentally getting sick themselves or bringing anything unwanted back with them to Pandora. They could take out what remained of the Called, and all of the Authority cities. With the rest of the human race gone, and Old Earth content in its own system so many light-years away, Pandora would be safe forever.
No. Chena wiped her palms on her trousers and then flicked over to the next major thread. They couldn’t, even them. They wouldn’t.
Designing Eden had given the hothousers all kinds of problems. Chena skimmed that section. Most of the trouble seemed related to making the immune system fast and agile, and yet not make it so it would turn on its host and all the host’s beneficial bacteria, or fail to recognize what was just the normal changes of the human body over time.
Eventually they thought they had the formula right. They just needed to find out if such a fetus could be brought to term in a human woman without the fetus producing an adverse reaction in the mother, or developing one to her.
They decided to start with a host mother with the most compatible set of alleles and genetic expressions they could find.
Helice Trust had been within three points of perfection.
Tears blurred Chena’s vision, but she blinked hard and kept on reading. A mountain of reports followed, documenting every aspect of Mom’s “pregnancy.” There didn’t seem to be a bodily detail small enough to be left out. Chena flicked past them, looking for the last day, the day Mom died.
Because surely there was a report on that.
There it was. A subject autopsy. Subject Helice Trust had died of blood loss and heart failure due to severe lacerations and massive hemorrhaging. That was about all they had to say about Mom.
What was really important was the construct they’d put inside her was missing.
Missing?
The lacerations, it said, were concentrated in the abdominal and uterine areas… Chena blinked and looked away. Someone had killed Mom, had cut her open to steal the thing they’d put inside her…
And they couldn’t find it. It was out there somewhere and the hothousers didn’t know where.
So now the poor babies have to start over again, thought Chena with a bleak humor.
So they’d need someone who could carry another one of the things. So they’d need…
Chena shot to her feet.
No! No, no, no!
But there it was. It shone on the screen. There was no mistaking it.
Chena backed away as if she thought the screen would bite her. I’ve got to get out of here. I screwed up. They know I’m here. I’ve got to get—
Then Aleph’s voice whispered in her ear. “I knew you would come back to me, Chena.”
Chena’s hands went instantly numb. Before she could blink again, the screen in front of her blanked out. Chena froze. What good would running do? Aleph had her marked and was on alert. She couldn’t breathe without the city-mind knowing it.
Her chest heaved as if she had just raced a mile. There was no way out, no way out, no way out.
“How did you know?” she croaked to the invisible watcher.
“Oh, Chena,” said Aleph sadly. “I know you. I’ve been waiting for you to come back in search of your mother ever since you left me. You could have walked in and had this information at any time. All you had to do was ask.”
Chena couldn’t think of anything to say. Her whole body began to shake. She’d thought she’d done it. She’d thought she’d been so smart….
She licked her lips and managed to force a few words out. “When did you know it was me?”
Aleph didn’t answer. “Dionte will take you to a waiting room so that your case can be evaluated.”
Chena’s paralysis broke and she was able to turn around. Her client stood on the other side of the door, tall and stone-faced, one hand curled in on itself, fingers rubbing lightly against her palm.
“Did she tell you?” whispered Chena.
“Go with her now, Chena,” said Aleph. “We will talk soon.”
The transparent door opened. Chena felt the breeze, and the unabated curtain of noise wrapped around her.
Client—Dionte—did not move. She just stood there and waited for Chena to walk across the threshold and stand in front of her on the catwalk.