Apart from telling him to enter on arriving, Davies ignored Tankred and paged through a file on his square.

  Ensign Davies was the only clone aboard with his own cabin. Tankred wondered what he might do with so much personal space, certainly something better than the ensign had. The place was spotless with still image frames set on the wall arranged in precise grids, furniture at right angles to each other, giving the feeling of a museum rather than a home.

  The only curved shapes sat above the ensign's desk, tiny sculptures in a display case, one of which he recognized as Ella's work. Davies looked up and followed his gaze and smiled. "It's amazing what human hands can do when the fabricator isn't an option, isn't it?"

  "They're very nice, sir." Tankred said.

  "All from current and former students of mine. It's never too late to take up a more fulfilling use of your free time, cousin."

  "I'll think about it, sir."

  Davies's lips thinned and he set his square down. "I wanted to talk to you about what happened in the shuttle bay."

  Tankred's guts froze. Had Davies discovered 342's download? There could be security outside the door just waiting to charge in and take him to the brig.

  "I can explain--" Tankred began, but Davies cut him off.

  "Do you think I want to dress down clonestock in front of the others, Tankred? Do you think I somehow enjoy it?"

  Yes, Tankred thought he did very much.

  "You may not realize it, but I'm the buffer between you and the rest of the world just waiting to take advantage of a clone, especially one with an upbringing like yours. No, don't talk."

  Tankred closed his mouth and balled his fists behind his back. Davies stood and waved Tankred over to the pictures on the wall.

  "Tell me what you see here," Davies said.

  The walls held framed stills and mini-vidcaps by the dozen, all group shots of the Mona Lisa's clone crew through the years taken after each decanting and before each retirement, filled the walls. By Tankred's estimate, Davies had seen nearly half of the clone compliment turn over in his tenure. Tankred found the motion cap of his own decanting, hair still caked with amniotic gel, eyes unfocused, surrounded by his new family with Davies's hands turning his head to face at the camera. It might have been the last time Davies looked happy to see him.

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  "Decantings, retirements. I recognize most of the family, others must have been before my time."

  "Every clone here either is or has been my responsibility, Tankred, and whether they've been exceptional, average, or...marginal. I have never failed them save for one."

  He pointed out a frame in the far corner with a blank spot at its center that filled Tankred with dread. The picture was of a decanting when Davies was younger, barely out of the jar himself. The gathered clones were unfamiliar too, though their faces showed up in retirement pics farther along the row. Tankred swallowed and looked at the blank spot where the decanted clone would be, now just a human-shaped gray smudge. One of the shunned, one whose name the family deliberately forgot. Tankred averted his eyes.

  "By all rights, I should have destroyed this image altogether, but I keep it as a reminder of the costs of my failure," Davies said. "This one was like you, Tankred, a marginal case. Had a rough time integrating with the family, just like you. Always late, squabbling with her cousins, or turning in shoddy work, a daily pain in my ass. But I fought for her, Tankred, I gave her second and third chances, I cleaned up her messes with the full-specs and smoothed things over with the family. It was my arrogance that thought with enough time and determination, I could save her but I failed. I failed."

  Davies let out a breath. "The ship was watching her, not just with the usual systems but with a submind monitor. Caught her having an unsanctioned liaison with a full-spec ship's armorer who took advantage of her naiveté and my inexperience as an officer. When confronted, she wouldn't give it up no matter how impossible it was for her to continue. I had no choice but to cast her out of the family. " Davies stared at the picture's blank center and the silence stretched out.

  "What happened to her?" Tankred asked.

  "I'm told she tried moving in with the full-specs, who don't understand family like we do. She evidently carried on with the armorer for another few weeks until he it ended badly and he transferred to another ship. She left shortly thereafter and tried joining other ship families who of course, would not take one such as her."

  Which meant she was likely dead. The suicide rates of clones without a family structure made shunning a death sentence.

  "If the ship was watching over her, couldn't it have done something for her?"

  Davies turned from the picture and faced Tankred. "AIs are not humanity's nannies and they don't play favorites, Tankred. The bottom line is I should have realized she was a lost cause and cut her off earlier. It took me years to regain the ship's trust and rebuild the family's reputation with the rest of the crew. Never again, Tankred, the family is bigger than one clone."

  "I understand, sir," Tankred said.

  "See that you do. Dismissed."