Reclamation(88)

Iyal brought her hands down. Understood. She snatched up the prod again to urge the cows forward. The press was easing as most of the cattle lumbered onto the truck. There was always a mild relief in being able to breathe freely again. Allenden was not allowing her to enjoy it, however.

“You know,” said Allenden. “The woman.”

“It shouldn’t be that tough for someone named Zur-Allenden ki Uvarimayanus to pronounce Arla Stone.” The torque picked up her subvocalized words and relayed them to Allenden’s translation disk. She hoped it also managed to accurately transmit her tone.

“Zur-Iyal, I can’t talk about this over the air. Give me ten minutes. Please.”

For a moment, Iyal considered telling him to go bury himself in manure, but Allenden was capable of making himself extremely unpleasant if he felt ignored, and she didn’t feel up to being called into Director ki Sholmat’s office and read the employee relations section out of her supervisor’s contract.

She waved to Jexid to come take her place at the back. The intern, to her credit, unhooked her own prod from her belt and waded into the thick of the herd, slapping and cursing like an old pro.

Iyal squelched through mud and debris to the side gate and palmed the latch. It registered her sweaty, muck-stained hand and let the gate swing open for her. Iyal stomped up the path, showering the concrete with dirt at each step until she reached her sedan chair. She plunked herself down in the seat and immediately switched on the monitor boards to check the input from Keyenar’s wand against the manifest. This was a big order and an important one. Since the Vitae had taken over Kethran’s gene-tailoring industry, there had been far too few of those. The last thing she needed was Allenden bothering her about his pet trivialities.

But then, he probably knew that. He never picked his fights randomly.

The summer heat and pent-up annoyance broke a fresh sweat on her forehead and cheeks, despite her broad-brimmed hat and screening lotion.

“I’m serious, Iyal.” Allenden squatted down beside the front legs of the sedan. “I think we’ve got a problem.”

“You mean a new problem.” Iyal watched three new registration numbers appear on the list. “So let’s have it.”

Allenden glanced this way and that. Iyal sighed. Allenden’s penchant for dramatics never failed to get under her skin and stick. “Get it out, Allenden, I don’t have all year. We’ve got 260 head to get inspected, loaded, and delivered.” She squinted at Allenden out of the corner of her eye. The sun was behind him and it took a minute for her new lenses to adjust so she saw something other than a black blob where his face should be.

“Iyal. Your … Arla, she’s a Vitae spy.”

Iyal felt her eyes swivel all the way toward Allenden. Her gaze followed a second later. “What?” Almost no one on Kethran, from First Family members on down to Fourth Wavers, liked having the Vitae around. Most recognized them as an unpleasant necessity. Some were waiting for a chance to kick them offworld. A few, like Allenden, were actively looking for ways to force them off.

“Somebody’s been using my access codes to get into the datastores after hours.”

Iyal finally took her attention off the herd and the boards and turned all the way toward Allenden. The man was built like a sun-bleached beanpole on stilts. Even on his knees in the grass, the top of his head was level with hers.

Iyal snorted. “Arla can barely type her name or understand …”

“She’s got a Vitae gene sequence, Iyal. For all we know they created her as a way to get in here.”

“Don’t be stupid, Allenden. Should that sequence turn out to be exclusive to the Vitae, which I doubt, even the Vitae aren’t that good at genetic engineering.”

“We don’t know exactly how good the Vitae are,” he said levelly.

Who’s paying Perivar’s bills these days? The thought slid into her mind. No. Not Perivar. Bones and breath, he works with a Shessel. He …

Who is paying his bills these days?

“You want to talk about this inside?” Allenden glanced across toward Keyenar, Jexid, and the herd.

“No, I do not want to talk about this inside.” Iyal heaved her shoulders back. “If you want to insult my judgment, Assistant Researcher, you can do it in writing to Director ki Sholmat.”

Allenden leaned close enough for her to smell his fruity breath over the scent of the cows and the summer grass. “I saw her Iyal. Security’s got her recorded. Reading the lab notes. Senior research level lab notes.”

No. I won’t believe it.

And if security really has got her recorded?