The Legacy of Alfred Bester

NOTE: This story is written as an epilogue to the Psi Corps series by J. Gregory Keyes. Characters and Places are the property of JMS, Babylonian Productions, and so forth.

Ben entered a series of three passwords before the words "CORRELATION CONFIRMED" appeared on the screen. The spectators' unnatural silence broke into excited discussions as Ben fingered another key combination to display "R² = 0.969879"

"R-square's still really high," he said unnecessarily as the discussions became even more animated. He hit another key combination and the printer beside him came to life. "I'm printing out a couple copies of the report," he told whomever might be listening to him. When it finished, he gave a packet to three of the other scientists, who quickly began to flip through the pages and point out specific parts to colleagues standing nearby. The fourth packet he kept for himself.

The meeting began an hour later, after the top four geneticists had had a chance to look through the report. These sat around the table in the small conference room, while the others fought over the two reports posted in the lab. The other two reports, including Ben's copy, sat on the table between the four. ". . . includes the data from both the preliminary test and the larger data pool," Ben was saying. "As you can see, this area of the second chromosome pair, outside of any particular gene, seems to be the defining factor of a telepath's ability level." He turned the page, and pointed to a long series of A's, T's, G's, and C's. "The closer both chromosomes are to this sequence, or something like it, the stronger the telepath. The exceptions that keep the R-square from being a one is when the person isn't a telepath. They're still a P0, even if they do have this sequence on both chromosomes."

The other three had already read the report and nodded their understanding of this summary. "What are we going to do about this?" asked Dr. Jackson, the oldest of them, when the silence threatened to become permanent.

"Test it," the woman, Dr. Larkis, said promptly. She was only a few years junior to the older man.

"How?" prompted Dr. Steward, a man several years older than Ben.

The oldest two exchanged a look, then Larkis ventured, "Splice into one twin, the other is the control."

Steward frowned. "Is that legal?"

A quiet fell over the four. "I don't know," Jackson finally answered. "People give their kids gene splices all the time when a screening shows a genetic disease probability. Don't see why this would cause an alarm. We're not even splicing a gene, just some of the random in-between."

"Which suggests it's not so random and unnecessary as previously thought," Ben pointed out.

"We don't know that for a fact yet. The report," she tapped one of the packets, "certainly suggests it, but maybe that's just a weird coincidence."

"With an R-square of 97%?" countered Steward incredulously.

Larkis shrugged, "Like I said, weird."

Jackson cleared his throat, bringing an end to the argument as everyone turned toward him. "All in favor of the twin test say aye, all against say nay."

Three ayes and one nay sounded around the table. Jackson, Larkis, and Ben held a hand half-raised in unbroken habit from their school days. Both of Steward's hand lay flat on the table. He looked at the others and shook his head, "It's too close to what the war tried to stop," he insisted.

"Then you can leave and keep your hands clean," Jackson said without sympathy for the younger man's qualms.

"And for Pete's sake, don't tell anyone until after we've done the test," Larkis added as Steward rose to his feet.

Ben grinned and allowed a flash of black humour to show on his face, "Then you can tell whomever you'd like, and if we're found guilty, then you get an instant promotion. If not, we fire you."

Jackson half-coughed, half-laughed, "In either case, the experiment will come to term, and whoever is left will know the results."

Steward stood there, looking at them uncertainly. Finally, he said, "You have one week before I report you," he compromised. "I wash my hands of this whole affair." One week was not enough to find volunteers and develop and perform the splice.

"Two weeks and we'll even say we told you we weren't going to do it," Jackson bargained. Two weeks was also too short a time to set up and execute the experiment, but the chance of completion was a little better.

"One week," Steward repeated, then left.

The remaining three looked at each other for several moments before Ben predicted, "I see a lot of overtime in the near future." Jackson and Larkis could only nod agreement.

"Where will we get the twins?" Larkis asked. "We don't have time to go through channels to get volunteers."

Another few moments past as they looked at each other. "You and Bester," he decided.

"What?!" Ben and Larkis repeated in unison.

"Bester's a P12, you're a P3. In theory, a child should be no more than a P5 or 6. We'll make one a P12. We can't use his wife because she was a compatible P12. Any kid is likely to be a P12 anyway. And we can't use your husband, because, well, you don't have one. So, you and Bester. Permissions are easier that way." As he eyed her, Ben noticed she was eying him back.

"I'm past menopause," she tried.

"So we'll use a surrogate mother and harvest a few eggs."

"No."

"Dr. Velistini," Ben suggested, "She's only about twenty-five, and she's also a P3. Unmarried still, too."

Jackson thought about. "Will she agree, do you think?"

"With adequate compensation, I think so. She's ambitious."

Jackson nodded, "Good." He turned to the computer installed into one of the walls. "Computer, get me Dr. Velistini." In a few moments, her image appeared on the screen. "Doctor," he began, "would you come to small conference room?" She nodded and promised to be there in a minute.

While they waited for her arrival, they sat in silence. She entered well within her promised deadline, and took Steward's seat without so much as a by-your-leave. Jackson smiled. "Are you familiar with twin experiments?" he asked without preface.

She nodded. "I am."

"Do you have any moral problems with them?"

She frowned and shook her head. "I do not."

"Do you have any problem with using your own eggs to make the twins?"

She blinked. "I, I, I don't know. Why?"

"We were given one week to get this experiment underway before Dr. Steward reports it. That is not time enough to find an outside volunteer. Our idea is to use your egg and Dr. Bester's sperm."

"I," she began before getting stuck. She shook her head and tried again, "I'm single. What am I supposed to do with a pair of twins?"

"If you'll carry them, I'll take them in afterwards," Ben offered softly.

"You'll also get hazard pay, and full medical coverage," added Jackson.

She looked between them. Jackson nodded encouragingly, Larkis smiled her vote of confidence, and Ben nodded once, more because she seemed to want something from him than because he supported the proposition wholeheartedly. Finally she nodded as well. "I'll do it. But I expect my name on this report when it comes out," she said tapping one of the packets on the table.

"Granted," Jackson said with a wide grin.

Ben dropped, exhausted, into Dr. Schlick's chair little orange chair. It was the first time he'd seen Lincoln in 36 hours, and it had been longer since he last slept. The deadline was fast approaching and final preparations were underway. A fertilized egg and its clone sat in the lab. The DNA splice fragment was nearly prepared. Velistini had been to the obstetrician thrice already. By sheer chance, she was already at the optimal point in her cycle to accept an implant.

"Hard day, Dr. Bester?" Schlick asked sympathetically.

Ben rubbed at his eye, and answered, "Hard week. We've a deadline in two days. The lab's been flying. It's amazing. I think we'll actually make it."

She looked surprised. "I hadn't been aware deadlines played such a stressful role in your profession."

Ben shrugged, "Normally, they don't. But we'll be reported in two days, so we need to finish by then or it'll probably get canceled."

"Reported? Is it an illegal experiment?"

Ben shrugged, "I don't know. None of us do. But we can't risk it being canceled, so we're hurrying. Twin tests are borderline."

"You are in favor of them?"

Ben nodded and stifled a yawn. "There's no better way to test some things. We think this sequence will make a P5 into a P12. But we can't know unless we try. If all goes well, you'll be getting a pair of twin Besters in this school in about five years, one should be a P5, the other a P12."

"Besters?" She repeated. "You're doing this to your own children?"

"I'm the only P12 in the lab, so Jackson wanted me to donate the sperm. It would be hypocritical if I supported the practice but wasn't willing to do it to my own. My father - nevermind."

"What?"

Ben shook his head. "I was just going to say that my father took part in the Glial Experiment, before the war."

"Grandpapa was a scientist, too?" Linc asked, looking up from the rubber band he'd been amusing himself with.

"No, he was a volunteer for one of the projects," Ben explained.

"Oh. Can I volunteer?"

Ben shook his head. "Not right now, but you're going to have two siblings because of this one that Daddy's Lab is working on now."

Linc cocked his head, and frowned in thought. "I guess that's ok."

Even as Linc nodded his acceptance, Dr. Schlick frowned her disapproval. "In this," she said, "I fear you are very much your father's son." Ben thought he caught a hint of self-reproach in the statement, as though even as she spoke, she knew she shouldn't being saying such a thing. Or perhaps, it was just that she thought she had misjudged him to be a decent person.

Ben was, quite frankly, too tired to curb his words. "Go ahead and think that if it makes you feel better about yourself. But anything new has to be tested eventually on real people. This is not so evil a thing as some of you people make it out to be. The process we'll use is well known and practiced commonly. We don't know if we'll get the result we want, but the worst case scenario that I can see is that both twins will be P6s. That's a higher rating than you have, is it not, Doctor? Of course, the side effects of the Glial Experiment were not foreseen, either, but that's treatable at least. Also, we do have a rather more solid basis for our theories than the Glial one, so the risk of something like that happening here is minimal. These twins will be brought into a more or less normal home, and will experience situations no different than what Linc has to face. The only - the only - thing different about them is that one of them had a small sequence inserted into his DNA and his P-rating is of interst to my lab. That's it. Oh, and their mother is not married to their father, but that's not really all that uncommon, now is it? I've already signed the papers to take full responsibility of them after their birth. It's not like we're going to throw them away after we get our results. We know we're going to be reported in two days, we wouldn't be doing this if we didn't think we could justify ourselves. None of us want to go to jail."

"Then why not wait and get official approval, rather than rushing, as though you expect to be turned down?"

At her level-headed argument, Ben's pique receded, and he actually grinned guiltily. "It's easier to ask forgiveness than permission. It would get bogged down in red-tape for years if we didn't take this initiative." He glanced toward his son, "And I'm going to get into a lot of trouble because of that, and you will, too, if you try it."

Linc nodded seriously and tried to keep a straight face. Tried and failed, but Ben let it pass.

As Dr. Bejamin Bester left her office this time, it was the psychologist rather than the patient who felt as though they had been the subject of a psyche examination. In fact, she admitted to herself, she hadn't done a very good job of examining Dr. Bester's psyche yet. True, she had gotten him to talk today, and quite animatedly despite his fatigue, too. But though the subject touched on his personal views, she still felt as though though the discussion was focused mostly on his work and the controversial issues he faced there. She still didn't know who his friends were - or weren't as the case seemed to be. Nor could she get anything much about Mr. Alfred Bester from him. His personal side was closed to her.

Not that she had asked about any of that today. She had feared that mentioning any of those subjects would close what little information she was getting and he'd leave as he had before. She wondered again if she were out of her league. Well, if he wouldn't go to a better doctor, perhaps she could. She swivelled her green chair around told the computer to find her Dr. Rachel Murdock.

After a moment, a dark-skinned woman appeared on the screen. "Emily? To what do I owe this honor?" she asked, smiling and putting down an early evening cup of coffee.

"A challenging patient, Dr. Murdock," Dr. Schlick began. "I need advice.

The woman raised an eyebrow, "Oh? First bit is free, don't get personally involved." Then she smiled again to show that she was still interested in what her former student had to say. "You're working at the Academy now, right? Is this patient a teenager?"

Dr. Schlick shook her head, "No, he's one of the parents, actually. Yes, I am at the school, and last week the prinicipal assigned a kindergartener and his father to attend several sessions with me. The boy is fine, he just gets judged a bit harshly because of his name. He's really quite a sweet child. But his father. . . I'm not trained to work with adults, Dr. Murdock."

Dr. Murdock folded her hands into her lap. "Due to the confidentiality you've doubtless sworn yourself to, perhaps you would like to discuss this over a cup of tea rather than an open channel?"

Dr. Schlick smiled and nodded her heartfelt thanks. "Yes, that would be wonderful." She had always loved those talks with her mentor. "Does the Peach Apple Cafe sound good to you?"

"Splendid. In half an hour, then?" Dr. Schlick agreed to the time, and they said their good-byes.

The Peach Apple Cafe was almost empty when Dr. Schlick entered it. She spotted Dr. Murdock at a corner table and joined her there. They greeted one another as she took the seat opposite her mentor, then spoke briefly of pleasantries before Dr. Murdock brought up the purpose of their meeting. "So you have an adult patient, then. Depressed? Suffering from marital or financial problems?"

Dr. Schlick shook her head, "No, nothing so simple. His name is Dr. Benjamin Bester, and he is the son of Alfred Bester. That only begins to suggest his difficulties."

"Is the boy safe with him, do you think?"

Dr. Schlick nodded her head quickly and hastened to explain, "Oh, yes. He's a very good father from what I can tell. Linc seems to be a very happy and well-adjusted child. Once people accept that he is not his grandfather, he'll do fine. Despite his mother's death, he comes from a happy home environment, to the best of my ability to see."

"When did Mrs. Bester die?"

"It hasn't come up in discussion, but according to Dr. Bester's file, it was about four years ago. Linc doesn't remember her at all, I imagine." The discussion was momentarily interrupted as a waiter arrived and took their orders. Both women ordered green tea with honey.

When he was out of earshot, Dr. Schlick resumed, "Dr. Bester is a complex man. In some ways, he tries to be as different from his father as he can be. But at other times, you can tell that he greatly admires the man."

"Were they close?"

Dr. Schlick shook her head. "I don't think they ever actually met. He was raised by his mother and Bester denied that he was the father."

"There was a question?"

"Not anymore. Dr. Bester ran a paternity test that came up positive." A short lull in the conversation was filled by the arrival of the tea. "Dr. Bester seems to be a fairly normal man, all things considered, but the reason I came to you for help is that he isn't being especially open. He only attends the sessions because, if he didn't, Linc would be put on suspension. So the things that he needs to talk about, he keeps silent about, and very often leaves if I bring up the subject."

"Which subjects are these?"

"His father, mostly. During the first meeting, Linc started to say something - I wish I could remember what - then stopped himself, saying 'grandpapa's secret'. That phrase, on the first two sessions, precipated his abrupt leaving. Today, for the third session, the subject did not come up and he left in a relatively amiable mood."

"And Linc?"

"He's crossed his heart and hoped to die not to tell. At Dr. Bester's instigation, too, I might add. What should I do?"

Dr. Murdock sipped at her tea, then added another dollop of honey. "Continue as you have been. Don't rush it, and don't press him for anything he's not ready to tell you. You've only just begun and it's natural that he doesn't trust you yet. Give him time, meanwhile, let him talk of what he wants to talk about. Let him get used to talking with you. He'll confide little things first. Don't expect to learn whatever Grandpapa's secret is for quite some time, months, maybe years, maybe decades, maybe not ever. But most of all: Do. Not. Get. Personally. Involved."

Of course not. That had been lesson one while she was still a student. But because of her vast respect for Dr. Murdock, she swallowed her offense, and said only, "I won't."

"Do I still hafta go to school, Dad?" Linc asked curiously as Ben put the microwaved left-overs from last night's take-out Chinese on the table. He'd not had any then; he'd been at work, the baby-sitter had ordered it up.

"Of course you still have to go to school."

"Oh." Linc was silent for a few moments while the over-done noodles were dropped into a dry mass on his plate. "Last time you said I might stop going." He poked his fork tentatively at the unappetizing pile.

Oh, right. Ben had mentioned the possibility of home-schooling when he hadn't wanted to see Dr. Schlick anymore. "For a little while longer anyway, then we'll see. Until the mess at work gets cleared up, I don't have time to look for a tutor for you."

Because his mouth was full of lo mein, he 'cast, *Good. Tomorrow, we're playing football in gym and I get to be goalie. This tasted better last night.*