of employing our plastisteel spinner.”
“Good news.” Lil looked thoughtfully at the console. The information she needed was in HANA’s memory banks. But whether the computer would yield it or not would depend on her knowing how to ask for it. Sky busied herself with another keyboard, her eyes avoiding Lil. There were no secrets that Sky didn’t have access to in any case. Lil leaned back in the command chair. “I want some information on a crew member.”
“Go ahead.”
“Gia Kennedy. Run the stats.”
HANA’s display screen lit up, and Gia’s biostat began to print itself rapidly:
GIA KENNEDY, PHYSIOLOGICAL AGE: 25.10 STANDARD YEARS—
Lil interrupted the flow of vital statistics. “Specify early experiences.”
NO HOST MOTHER. RAISED BY NATURAL MOTHER, ROS KENNEDY, MEDSPEC ASSIGNED TO AMERIND SURVIVOR COMMUNITY IN TAOS, EARTH ZONE 5. ATTENDED SCHOOL IN SHANGHAI FROM AGE 11 TO 16; GENERAL STUDIES. ATTENDED LANGUAGE ACADEMY IN GENEVA FROM AGE 16 TO 24; SUBJECT: XENOLINGUISTICS. COMPUTER INTERFACE IMPLANT UNDERTAKEN AT AGE 22.03. ACADEMIC RATING: 2ND IN CLASS. HIGH HONORS.
Lil contemplated the screen. The girl had received her first formal education in Shanghai, a school that had been a hotbed for subversive activity. Lil herself had once had more than a passing acquaintance with the lower ranks of the notorious secret Society of the Dow, believers in the supremacy of human rather than computer-controlled and -programmed destiny. If Gia’s mother had chosen to send her to Shanghai, it might be significant. A lot depended on what kind of a woman MedSpec Kennedy had been.
And then she saw it.
“Sperm bank stats on paternity?”
“I’m afraid there appears to be a gap in this portion of the data,” HANA’s level voice said.
“Then tell me whether this was a routine insemination or—”
CLASSIFIED.
A warning light flashed so she wouldn’t miss the message.
“Override,” she insisted. “Sky—dammit! What’s the code for a ship’s commander?”
“Five-three—one-seven—nine.”
OVERRIDE REJECTED. DIRECTIVE 1-A.
That was CenCom’s own prerogative to reveal or conceal as it saw fit, and there was no way around it.
“I’m sorry,” HANA said. “It would seem that information isn’t available. But surely the identity of paternal parentage is of little importance?”
“I suspect it is, for this crew member.”
The CompSpec glanced swiftly at her, as if she were about to offer assistance. Then she apparently changed her mind and bent to the keyboard again. Sky could probably get around Directive 1-A if she tried, Lil thought. She was easily the best in the commercial fleet; she could have been one of CenCom s own chosen few in Geneva if she’d wanted. Lil had often wondered why she hadn’t. Nteko, of course.
She rose from the command chair and, leaning on her cane, stretched herself, relieving the sensation of cramp that she felt increasingly in her muscles these days. Retirement seemed more and more an attractive option. No more mysterious wrecks or cagey computers to deal with, at any rate.
“You seem to need a period of exercise,” HANA said. “Would you like me to make up a new program for you? Your hip is ready for some therapy now.”
Damned bossy old woman! “You take care of this bucket of junk, HANA, and I’ll take care of myself.” She turned away from the now blank screens to face Sky. “And you, Sky—relax a little. That’s an order, do you hear?”
“I hear you, Captain,” Sky said.
Lil smiled and, leaning down awkwardly, hugged her ComSpec.
“Captain Cheng,” HANA interrupted. “LangSpec Kennedy has just left the mess and is heading for your cabin.”
Lil sighed. She’d been hoping to turn in early. “I’ll meet her there.”
She reached her quarters just as Gia, one hand bandaged and cradled in a sling, raised her other hand to knock.
“Go on in.”
Lil kicked her boots off while Gia settled herself in the web chair by the cabin’s low table. With the lighting lowered, she thought, the place seemed much bigger than it really was, freighters not having much space for luxury accommodations. But the art work she’d collected on a dozen worlds—she hadn’t been immune to the magpie instinct, either—gave character to the curving walls. A pile of bookcubes waited for her to slip them into the console, mostly technical manuals, but some poets she considered old friends. And she’d long ago ripped out the regulation gray tweed carpet, replacing it with the living warmth of orange-brown bioweave. The cabin wasn’t as spacious as the apartment in Geneva, but it was cozy.
“How’s the hand?”
She reached for the small triangular bottle of kav. It was going to be a long evening, and no Zion to make staying up late worthwhile this time. Maybe just as well. She was getting a bit old for the athletic event that particular young man made of sex. But the memory made her smile; she hadn’t known she still had it in her.
Gia watched Lil pour blue liquid into real crystal before answering. “It’s fine. That was stupid of me, down there. After what happened to you, I should’ve known to be cautious. I was very unprofessional—my own fault the Ent attacked me.”
“As for what happened to me,” Lil said, “HANA gave me a lecture on being overweight and clumsy. But your incident—I wonder if it was meant as an attack?”
The girl looked up. “What do you mean?”
“In some Earth societies, and certainly among many of the higher mammals, biting was a form of affection, a sign of sexual arousal.”
Gia’s face flooded with fire. A curious reaction, Lil thought. There was a puzzle here, all right. She filled her own crystal, obscurely irritated. “Did you have something you wanted to talk to me about, or is this a social visit?”
Gia’s eyes beseeched Lil to understand. “Madel says I have to stay up here for a few days, until she’s sure my hand’s clean. But I have to go back down, Lil. I have to get on with my work.”
Lil looked at her thoughtfully. CenCom was hiding something about her. With the emphasis on population stability that had prevailed for a couple of hundred years, not all women chose to have children. And some of those took advantage of professional mothers—CenCom having recognized the fact long ago that no matter what else changed, some women just enjoyed having babies. But CenCom had taken the mess and guess out of baby-making. Half an hour out of a busy day spent at the local sperm bank guaranteed the mother-to-be the perfect genetic heritage for her child. As for the minority, the Dowists who believed in doing things the old way, CenCom tended to ignore them as long as they were discreet. So why wouldn’t it allow HANA to reveal paternity data about Gia?
Or perhaps it had, indirectly. Lil had once known the recognition words of the lower ranks of the
