“Probably she did exactly what Jordan complained about,” he said to Grant, “and went after the deep set on the BR. Fast fix.”

“That’s one way to get his attention,” Grant said. “It would be logical.”

“Rough on him.”

Grant gave a slow, thoughtful nod. “But it would work. And they’re ReseuneSec. Those are odd sets from the beginning.”

“Cold as hell’s hinges,” Justin muttered, with other unpleasant memories, and tried to shake the mood of that black flood in the hall–his hallway as well as hers. He poured a white wine, poured another for Grant, and reran the tape. “That’s the BB‑19.” Justin said, regarding the thin, long‑faced azi. “I’ve worked with another of that set. A bundle of nerves. Good on details. He’ll likely be scared to death of Florian and Catlin.”

“With probable cause,” Grant said, and, with a pizza wedge for a pointer: “That’s his counterpoint, I’m betting. BY‑10. A lot like the BB‑19. A good combination, those two. One’s detail, the other tends to macrofocus.”

“Males generally get top posts in that house, have you noticed that? Since Florian and Catlin, that’s herpredilection. It was her predecessor’s, too. Not a female in the whole lot.” Flash on that apartment, that time. He’d been, then, around Ari’s age now.

And that night, in the first Ari’s apartment…had there been staff present, besides Florian and Catlin? He couldn’t remember it…didn’t want to remember. He was sorry for Florian and Catlin. He really was. It depressed him to think about it.

“And Theo ended up in authority over Jory on the domestic staff,” Grant said. “ Iwouldn’t have advised that. Jory’s brighter. But they’ll manage. He’ll take advice.”

“You know, Ari is far more social than her predecessor,” Justin said, envisioning that crowd in Ari’s living room–probably being served refreshments and urged to relax–which would make the lot almost comically uncomfortable. No, she actually wouldn’t do it. She knew better. She’d do what wouldmake them comfortable–like brief them, give them information. Those mindsets would like that far better than teacakes, all things considered. But sociality…she’d encourage that, far more than those mindsets had ever seen. “She has a strong inclination to go for company. Not with that lot, but in general.”

“I’ve observed,” Grant said.

“Right from the start. She visited our office. Whenever she got bored, she went looking for people. Cultivated a set of friends. Still does. Denys really didn’t like that habit in her. Of course, Denys didn’t like people in the first place.”

“Neither did the first Ari,” Grant said. “Deviation from the model. Maybe an improvement. Maybe not. I can’t imagine that the first Ari ever had that bent in early years.”

“Our Ari lost Jane Strassen, but she never grew bitter, just took to chasing us. Maybe she’s more people‑oriented because shedidn’t spend her early years wondering if her dear mother would kill her if she disappointed. That’s what they say about Olga Emory.”

“A relationship I can’t imagine,” Grant murmured. “But then, I can’t imagine a mother.” A tilt of Grant’s head. “Just you.”

“I don’t qualify.”

“You absolutely don’t. Which suits me fine.”

They were lovers. They made no particular fuss over it. It was just who they were. There was nobody they trusted more than each other, nobody they loved more than each other. That had been true for years. For a time, in his growing up, if there hadn’t been Grant, he wouldn’t have been sane. If there hadn’t been him–it was equally sure Grant wouldn’t have been what he was.

And if not for the first Ari’s intervention, Grant would have been Jordan’s work, entirely.

And if not for the first Ari’s intervention, so, almost undoubtedly, would he.

“I wonder what she’s building out there behind the wing,” Justin said hours later, when he and Grant were in bed, after a long evening and an entertainment vid. The only light was the clock face on the minder. The security force had, as predicted, departed after a precise hour and forty‑five minutes. Headed for the lift. Assigned, signed, and delivered–

And that gave Ari as much protection as any other agency in Reseune.

“Building behind the wing?” Grant asked, half asleep. “What brought that up?”

“She’s accumulating an army–counting service people, that’s a large staff.”

“You think?” Grant rolled over and managed a half‑awake interest. “What are you thinking?”

“I think it’s not a building to replace the old Wing One Lab. I think it’s a huge extension of this whole wing.”

“You can’t really see it on the monitors.”

“Lot of earthmovers going back and forth, makes the ground floor shake. A lot of stuff landed down at the dock and brought up in that direction. It’s going to be big. Everybody’s saying labs to replace the old one they shut down. I’m saying–I don’t know why Ari wants huge labs attached to this wing, unless she’s setting up to do some work.”

“Makes a certain sense she would,” Grant said.

“Physical labs? She doesn’t need it. She’s theory. She’s computers. She doesn’t really need that kind of thing. I’ll bet you–mark me–I’ll bet a month’s pay the lab story is a blind.” He cast a look up at the ceiling in the dark, not sure they were monitored, never sure they weren’t. “Just a guess.”

“So–if it is–does she move out and we stay here?”

“Would she leave her favorite neighbor behind? Dammit, something in me wants to go take back our old digs, with the worn carpet and the balky green fridge, all of it. I miss the place.”

“I don’t know why. We weren’t safe there.”

“We were, for a while.” He let go a long slow breath, and remembered. “No, I suppose we were just ignorant.” He stretched, hands under the pillow, under his head. “Maybe that’s what I want to get back to. Blissful ignorance.”

“I’ve found little blissful about ignorance. Besides, it’s not in my mindset to tolerate that condition.”

“I’m afraid it’s not in mine, either, ultimately” Two or three slow breaths. “Too big a staff, even for a palace. She’s got staff packed into that apartment. And thirty guards? That’s a lot even for Wing One. I think we’re witnessing an expansion. She’s going to move. Get the whole wing into something that wasn’tshot all to hell by a handful of her staff. Make sure it can’t happen again.”

“It’s a lot of building. That’s certain.”

“If she moves us, at least we’ll be rid of the decor.”

The room…if the lights had been on…or even when they weren’t…was a horror of modern decorating, stark white, stark black, and some mitigating grays. Grant avowed he didn’t mind it much. But Grant, being azi, lived more in his mind than he did in his physical surroundings. For himself, having grown up attached to textures and physical sensations, it was absolutely appalling. Admittedly it was a place to be safe. It was a place to be monitored by reasonably friendly agencies, and to maintain an absolutely incontrovertible record, capable of proving to any inquisitive authority that they hadn’t been up to anything, and couldn’t possibly deserve to be arrested. Again.

Warm, soft place to be, however, it was not–only in this bed, with the lights out, with Grant there, safe. Insulated from the world–and Ari. And from whatever she was doing, filling the hall with a godawful lot of Reseune Security.

Making the place echo with boots.

Advancing power. He could hear it coming.

The phone rang.

“Damn.” He jumped. He couldn’t help it. Nothing good made ever made a phone ring at this hour. He shot an arm out, felt after the phone‑set on the nightstand. Didn’t find it, and it was still going off “Minder? Minder, answer the damn phone!”

“Complying.” the robot voice said; the clock face over on the wall brightened as the room light came up a little. A telltale beside that clock went green, and a new voice came through.