Aftermath - Ann Aguirre [60]
I’ve no idea what he was doing on the ground, but the truth is complicated and hard to explain. Better to let the matter rest like this. People prefer concrete answers, comprehensible reasons why, and I need to secure his support.
His hands tremble as he orders a drink. Carvati sits down at the conference table, flattening his palms against the cool alloy surface as if that can assuage the loss. “Mortality packs a hell of a punch.” The bot brings the tray faster than I would’ve believed possible, and the room is silent as the doctor drains his glass. When he glances up at me, I see speculation. “You didn’t have to carry this news in person. Therefore, I collect you have some additional purpose.”
He’s smart. I decide not to stretch this out. Carvati is busy, and he has others to attend. Taking a seat across from him, I say, “I want to hire you.”
“Not for organ transplant or cosmetic procedures?” Those are his specialties, but this clinic does unbelievably advanced work. The organ transplant business is booming; Carvati can clone a healthy organ to replace a diseased one. And that’s significant, given what I want him to do.
“I have a small tissue sample . . . and I’d like to hire you for a clone job.”
“Not Saul?” His face reflects true horror.
“No. It’s a Mareq hatchling who died in my care. I would like to return the clone to his mother’s clutch. I’m not sure if she’ll think of him as her child, but I can’t return to make amends empty-handed.”
“Identical DNA creates the same individual,” Carvati says. “The only difference arises from nature versus nurture. So I think she’d be pleased to see him.”
I nod. That’s the prevailing school of thought on clones. They’re the same person, essentially, but if they’re raised in different environment, then disparity emerges. Since Baby-Z didn’t live long enough for anyone to get to know him, his personality is yet unformed, and his mother should be glad of his return. Cloning doesn’t make sense to replace a loved one because it’s a lengthy process with humans, so if I’d cloned Kai, I would’ve been old enough to be his mother by the time he reached maturity. Most people don’t go that route with lovers, though I’ve heard of a few wealthy families doing so to replace kids lost to misadventure. Science hasn’t shown much success with accelerated development; the Breed experiments were an expensive disaster with only a handful of viable subjects.
“A Mareq hatchling would be fairly simple,” he goes on, thoughtful.
“Will you do it?”
He makes up his mind quickly. “Certainly. It will pose no problem for my labs, though you’ll need to take great care with a Mareq so young.”
“I’m familiar with their needs. If you could also synthesize a protein mixture, I’d be grateful.” I’ll be wearing Baby-Z, mark two, all by myself this time. A little pang goes through me at the memory of March with the hatchling on his chest.
He pushes to his feet. “Thank you for telling me about Saul in person. Was there anything else?”
“Actually,” I say, “there is. I have some notes here on Doc’s last project. It would mean everything to me to see the work completed.”
“What was it?” Carvati is wary, but interested.
“Devising a cure for the La’heng.”
He whistles low. “That’s a tall order. They need a treatment that counteracts the prior damage to brain chemistry without creating any new side effects.”
“I know. And that’s tough because of their hyperadaptive physiology. I’d like you to assemble a team, the best people you can find. I’ll pay . . . Price is no object.” Vel told me he’d help foot the bill for this endeavor, even if the civil suits deplete my fortune entirely. He said it’s a worthy goal—and I couldn’t agree more.
Carvati offers a half smile. “I intended to pass until you spoke that last sentence. I’ll see what I can do.”
“Excellent. Now, for the third and final order of business, I’d like to schedule an elective surgery.”
He sweeps me from head to toe with an assessing glance, as if he can predict what I want. “Breast work?”
I flush. “No.