than an asset.” He turned to Captain Antigua. “Exactly what is he, Captain? A clone of Jupiter? Or a full psychological incarnation?”
Captain Antigua’s lip curled in what could only be contempt. “He’s neither. Lot’s just progeny, that’s all. Jupiter tried years to get him, but he’s natural, I’m sure of it. Check his genotype if you like. You’ll see he’s no Jupiter.”
“I’ll do that. In the meantime, would you regard him as dangerous?”
Captain Antigua snorted. “He’s a dog. Jupiter’s favorite pet. Run and jump when the master calls.” She looked at Lot, and contempt flowed off her shoulders and down over him in an invisible molecular flood. He breathed her anger inside him, where it resonated, and became his own. Jupiter’s dog . He glared at her, outraged by simple unfairness, unkindness, undeserved hatred.
And to his surprise a sudden, nervous sweat broke out across her cheeks. Her eyes widened and she flinched back in her seat. Her gaze cut to Kona. “Get him away from me.”
Kona pursed his lips thoughtfully. “He’s your charge.”
“No.” She was breathing hard now, and trying even harder not to show it. “I’ll do what I can with the rest of Jupiter’s people, but I won’t take responsibility for him. I won’t.”
On Kona’s lips there appeared a hint of a cold, cold smile. “That’s acceptable, Captain Antigua. You may go to your people now. They’ve been quartered in factory spaces, but housing is being prepared for them. You’ll explain their obligations and the civic requirements of citizenship.” He nodded, seemingly satisfied. “With reason and patience we may yet find a new level of normalcy in this city.”
Captain Antigua stood. Lot started to follow, but a cutting glance from the captain stopped him. A door opened in the dark projection wall, and she left along a garden path lit by amber lights, an escort of Silken security before and behind her. The door closed. Lot settled back on the floor, feeling the weight of Kona’s gaze upon him. He kept his own gaze fixed on the carpet. “Let me go with her,” he whispered.
“She doesn’t want you. Why is that?”
He didn’t know. His hands started to shake. Deception Well flowed beneath his feet, mocking him with its nearness. “We didn’t want anything from you,” he croaked, his voice broken with the presence of unshed tears. “Why didn’t you let us go?”
Kona didn’t answer right away. Then: “We did you a favor. The Communion is a myth. Deception Well is nothing more—and nothing less—than a complex biological machine, with molecular defenses more capable and more adaptive than anything we can field. It harbors plagues that would kill us. It would have killed you.”
“No.” Lot shook his head in solid denial. “That’s not true. It didn’t kill Jupiter. Jupiter was there. He was dying of a real plague and the Communion healed him.”
Kona spoke softly, but his words were firm. “Jupiter lied to you. He was never on the planet.”
Lot felt as if his breath had been stolen away. He sat back, stunned. Jupiter lied to you .
The world seemed to shift around him, as if every molecule had turned at right angles to some unseen dimension to create an entirely new order of reality.
He watched his fingers work at the soft carpet. From his fixed memory came the image of his mother laying him on a white carpet after his bath when he was a baby, still learning to crawl. “Will you revive the dead?” he croaked. He looked up at Kona, trying hard to hold on to his tears.
But the bitter expression on Kona’s face crushed even this last hope. “We don’t have room for our own grandchildren.” He stood up, suddenly impatient. He looked to one of the Silkens still lingering behind the sofa. “Alonna, get another security detail.”
The Silken shifted slightly. “Where do you want to put him?” she asked, glancing questioningly at Lot.
“Where do you think?”
“The monkey