by Isaac Asimov
Three technicians worked at two stations across the chamber. Derec spotted the equipment he needed against the wall to his left, midway between the curtain and the techs. He strode across the lab as if he did so every day and sat down at the console.
Within seconds, he had the magnifier powered up and the dish in the drawer of the observation platform. He keyed for a relatively low magnification–200X–and let the machine perform.
The screen showed him three distinct substances: two clearly artificial–one crystalline and the other fibrous. The third was blood.
He tapped a command to separate out the three materials and deposit them in separate dishes. A few seconds later, a different drawer in the platform slid out bearing three dishes. Derec pocketed the one containing the blood and reinserted the one with the crystalline material.
“May I help you; sir?”
Derec looked around at a young female technician standing anxiously behind him.
“No, I have what I need. Thank you.”
“Um...”
“It’s all right, I’ll clear it with your director.”
“Did you find something?” another tech asked, suddenly leaning past the first and gazing at the image on the screen.
Derec switched it off. The man frowned.
“I’m fine,” Derec said. “If I need help, I’ll ask.”
The man met Derec’s gaze coldly, without the scowl of offended dignity and violated territoriality Derec expected. Derec sensed that it would be a mistake to look away, to yield at all to this one. He would lose his samples and the presumed privileges he had just accorded himself, access to any and all parts of the lab.
“I am qualified to ask for help,” Derec said. “I’ve had years of practice.”
The tech smiled thinly. “Of course, sir. Sorry to bother you.”
The first technician watched her coworker retreat.
“Where’s the infirmary?” Derec asked. His legs trembled slightly.
“Next level,” she replied, pointing downward.
“Thank you.” He removed the sample tray from the magnifier and wiped the machine’s log. “I want one of these in our area when I return.”
“Yes, sir,” she said uncertainly.
“It is authorized. “He stepped closer to her and lowered his voice. “It wouldn’t do anyone any good for me to take this to Director Polifos. Would it?”
“No, sir. No.” She glanced in the direction of the other tech.
“Don’t worry about him,” Derec said. “He’s an amateur.”
She gave him a surprised smile. “Yes, sir. I’ll see to procuring you a magnifier.”
Samples in his pocket, Derec walked out of the lab, feeling the male tech ‘s eyes on him all the way to the door. He wondered what internal politics he had just upset and how, if at all, it applied to him.
An elderly Auroran named Greler attended the infirmary. After a brief exchange of names, Greler amiably ran a complete scan of the blood samples and handed a disk to Derec along with his sample.
“Apologies for being unable to run the match for you,” Greler said. “This sort of thing must go through Kopernik Medical. You can take it to them and have it done.”
“Thanks.”
Derec returned to the positronics lab.
He walked in to find two more techs sitting with the first pair. All of them fell silent when they saw him and watched as he crossed the floor to the curtained station. Derec felt a prickle up the back of his neck.
Hofton waited with Rana, along with Rotij Polifos and Yart Leri.
Polifos wore a pinched expression. Ambassador Leri looked concerned. Hofton and Rana seemed mildly puzzled.
“Mr. Avery–” Leri began.
“I would appreciate,” Polifos cut in immediately, “that any and all requests for equipment or special analyses be made through me. This is my lab.”
Derec did not respond. Polifos looked frustrated. When he finally broke eye contact, Derec looked at Leri.
“I was under the impression that we had your full cooperation.”
“Of course,” Leri said, glaring briefly at Polifos. “I apologize for any misunderstandings, but we are answerable to Ambassador Setaris and, through her, Aurora itself. We’re used to a more regular set of procedures.”
Polifos blinked in amazement at Leri. “I should have been told what this was all about. I am responsible to the Calvin Institute and the Positronics Commission–directly–and any and all matters concerning robots and other positronic entities within and involving this facility are my responsibility. I’m required to report, oversee, and voucher all activities–”
“You don’t have to quote the code to me,” Leri snapped. “This is, I repeat, an unusual circumstance–”
“I have this authority precisely for unusual circumstances! All due respect to Mr. Avery, he is not the only roboticist on Earth, and unless I have a very good reason to relinquish my responsibilities, I cannot allow him to simply take over–”
“No one is taking over,” Leri said.
“Stop interrupting me.”
“Stop jumping to conclusions! You didn’t know about this because I didn’t know! I didn’t know because Ambassador Setaris told me I wouldn’t know! She has asked for the utmost discretion, and I will not tolerate petty fits of temper over personal slights!”
“I can’t cooperate with Mr. Avery unless I know what he’s doing,” Polifos said.
“I agree, “Hofton said. “Can’t expect useful cooperation from ignorance.”
“Perhaps I was remiss,” Leri admitted. “But I was told that your work was highly confidential and that a minimum of interference was in order.”
“Misunderstandings are easy under these circumstances,” Derec said. “Evidently, I was misinformed about protocol myself.”
Leri looked sheepish. “I, uh...”
“Director Polifos and I can work this out, I’m sure,” Derec said.
“Well.” Leri gave Polifos one last glare.
Polifos did not look away this time. “I do not want Palen’s goons tramping through here as if it were their office and we were criminals.”
“Under the circumstances, we don’t have much choice,” Leri snapped. “Now, straighten all this out with Mr. Avery. I’m too busy to do arbitration over bruised egos.” He looked at Derec. “I’m sorry for the inconvenience, Mr. Avery. If you have any more trouble...”
He stormed off. Huddled techs watched him leave.
Derec turned to Polifos. “Chief Palen?”
“One of our staff was arrested,” Polifos said. “Nothing unusual in that–the man in question has a history of running afoul with Palen.”
“Doesn’t sound like someone you’d want to keep on staff,” Hofton observed.
“We have personnel shortages,” Polifos said. He seemed distracted. “But even so, I’ve tried to get this one rotated back to Aurora and it simply doesn’t happen.” He shook his head impatiently. “That isn’t the real problem. What is the problem is her people have been in and out of my lab since yesterday, questioning my staff. Then you show up, and the next thing I see is Palen herself with your man Hofton here bringing in a robot of which I had no knowledge! I can’t help but think that it’s all connected. Your presence has changed our relationship with Palen, and not for the better.”
Derec exchanged a look with Hofton. “I’m afraid I don’t know anything about–”
Polifos cut him off. “No, I don’t imagine you do, nor would you even if you did. One of her police appears in the doorway, points, and expects to be followed. Our arrangement with the Terran authorities here is peculiar to say the least–we were all required to concede that Palen is in charge of all security throughout the station. Makes sense, I suppose, but–”
“We were informed about none of this,” Hofton said. “When was the arrest made?”
Rana frowned at Hofton but said nothing.
“Shortly before you arrived,” Rotij said. “Naturally we’re n
ervous.”
“What are the charges?” Hofton asked.
“Disorderly conduct. But Palen’s been questioning my people about smuggling. “Polifos snorted in disbelief. “Smuggling! Why would an Auroran engage in smuggling?”
Derec looked across the lab and recognized the tense look in the eyes of the staff.
Derec stepped close to Polifos. “I want that equipment, Director. Soon as possible. The quicker we get done here, the sooner we’ll be out of your lab and away from your people. But we want the equipment here. I don’t want any more confusion over who’s responsible for what.”
“No, we don’t,” Polifos answered sharply. “All right.” He stepped around the blind. “Hovis!”
Derec looked at Hofton. “What’s this about?”
“You stepped on toes in your walk across hallowed ground,” Hofton said. “Someone complained. The accusation that we’re plants from Palen materialized. There’s a rather ugly atmosphere here. Also,” he lowered his voice, “I’m sorry I didn’t get a chance to tell you earlier. I tried to look into Director Polifos’s record. This posting and credentials from the Calvin Institute were all I could find. There’s a security block on records older than Kopernik.”
“Terran security?”
“No, sir. Auroran.”
Derec stared at Hofton, for a moment uncomprehending. Then he shook his head. “We’d better proceed on the assumption that we have even less time than we started with.” He showed the disk to Hofton. “I had the blood sample screened and typed.”
“Blood sample?” Hofton asked.
“The robot’s hand. I found material in the finger joints. Some of it is blood. The rest I’ll look at when I get the proper equipment.”
“Blood. Wonderful. That should help exonerate the robot.”
Derec slipped the disk into the comm console. “We’re going to need a complete autopsy report on all the victims, I think. And I want to look at that cargo bin. In person, not on a screen.”
“I’ll see what I can do,” Hofton said.
“One way or the other, we need to see for ourselves.”
“I understand.”
Derec turned to address his RI. “Thales, I’m sending a blood screen. I want you to run a match through all available databases.”
“Yes, Derec. That may take some time.”
“I can wait. “He pressed SEND and turned to Rana. “How’s the link?”
“Established. Thales is beginning the first level excavation now. I’ve set up buffers to receive intact memory nodes as they’re found and retrieved. We should be able to view them in isolation.”
“Good, good.” Derec went to the edge of the blind and watched a pair of technicians setting up a magnifier on a cart. “I want a complete scan for eyes and ears on all this equipment. Have Thales do one on the lab itself.”
“All of it?” Rana asked.
“Every bit.”
“Derec,” Thales said, “I have a consanguinity match.”
“Already?”
“Given the probable source of the sample, I began with the most obvious. I am continuing through the rest of the databases on the chance of finding an exact match.”
“All right, what do you have?”
“There is a 99% match to Nyom Looms.”
“So... it’s her blood?”
“No. I can display the details, but the distinction is clear. This sample came from a male.”
“Her father, perhaps?” Rana suggested.
“No, Rana. Even given the unlikelihood that Rega Looms would permit a robot close enough to him to touch, I ran the same match against his genome and it remains only a close match, not identical. The markers I used to verify distinctions number two hundred eighteen. There is no significant margin for error. The sample belongs to a male relative of both Rega and Nyom Looms, probably a son and brother.”
“Son...” Derec mused. “Looms never had a son.”
“The record would so substantiate. However, there are always possible oversights.”
“‘Oversights’,” Hofton said. “Interesting way to put it. Have you typed the sample against Looms’ wife?”
“Yes. The same degree of consanguinity. The logical implication is that Nyom Looms had a brother. However, no record of such a relative is forthcoming.”
“Can you determine age, Thales?” Derec asked.
“That is proving difficult, Derec. Normally there are mutations over time in the chemistry and base DNA. Proteins provide a reliable clock. But this sample shows an incongruity of results. Certain proteins suggest an age of twenty-nine, others an age of ten.”
“Rehab treatments?” Hofton suggested.
“The requisite chemical signatures of all known rejuvenation or rehabilitation protocols are absent. This does not preclude that one or more have not been employed that are unknown, but I cannot consequently give you an accurate estimate of age.”
“Send this data to Ariel, Thales,” Derec said. “Continue your search for an exact match. Add the databases of all rejuvenation clinics extending back a period of, oh, thirty-five years, and see if anything turns up.”
“Yes, Derec.”
“Nyom had a brother she didn’t know about?” Hofton said. “Amazing. Imagine that, from a man like Looms.”
“Call Palen,” Derec said. “We need to see those bodies and all the autopsy reports. “He stared across the lab, watching the personnel, and realized after a moment that he was looking for something that did not fit. “Thales, ask Ariel to run a background on Rotij Polifos.”
Fifteen
“YOU’RE LATE.”
Ariel nodded curtly to Coren’s escort, who bowed formally and left. Ariel stood to one side, waving Coren in.
“Your tailor took his time,” Coren said, entering the apartment.
Ariel Burgess wore a gown of graphite-gray material that contained motes of color which sparkled delicately. The cut had no sharp edges and, rather than encase her body, seemed to travel along with her. Coren kept expecting to see thigh or hip or breast or belly through the mist, but, though the fabric covered her reluctantly, it never failed to hide.
She wore no jewelry. Her black hair was braided thickly into a helix laced with silver, blue, and gold ribbons. She appeared to be barefoot. Coren could not stop watching her, thoroughly caught by what he saw.
“No matter,” she said. “Fashionably late is better than being too early. Have you ever been to one of these before?”
“No,” Coren said. “Rega has never been invited.”
She frowned. “Oh, I doubt that. Setaris is always trying to persuade detractors to come see for themselves.” She shrugged, then gave him an open appraisal. She nodded. “That will do.”
Coren bristled briefly at the inspection. The Auroran tailor complained that he was unused to working for Terrans because they were so short and thick, all the while his lasers measured him and his robot did the cutting. The suit, a midnight blue formal affair, fit beautifully–Coren enjoyed fine clothes, especially new ones, and he had never owned an Auroran outfit before. The sleeves seemed a bit too loose, but nothing was too tight, and after the trip from the tailor’s to Ariel’s apartment it felt as natural as skin.
Then he felt foolish for resenting her. He had been studying her, after all.
“I’m glad I meet your standards, “he said.
She cocked an eyebrow. “For tonight, at least.” She crossed the room to a comm console, dragging his gaze with her. She retrieved a disk and brought it to him. “Take this now, just in case.”
“What is it?”
“The subject of our evening’s discussion. But later. We have to go.”
In the corridor, she frowned. “How well do you handle the open?”
“As in...?”
“Unroofed space, free air, stars in the sky.”
“I can manage well enough.”
Ariel looked dubious. They reached a wide area lined with elevator doors. She tapped a code into one.
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“Well,” she said, “if it becomes too much, there are plenty of enclosed spaces in Setaris’s residence.”
The door opened on a comfortable car with a plush bench mounted in a semicircle. Coren barely felt it begin to move and after a few moments there was no discernable motion.
Ariel slid briefly against him, thighs touching. His nostrils filled with a subdued odor and he became instantly affected by her presence.
“All right, we have a minute,” Ariel said. “Do you have any questions about protocol? Have you been to any Spacer functions?”
Coren set aside his growing distraction. “Um... when I worked for Special Service, there were occasions, but I’ve never been a guest.”
Ariel nodded. “I have no idea yet what the occasion for this dinner is, but I have no doubt several guests will be recording it. This will be a working dinner, so business will be done. Not openly, not blatantly, but arrangements will be made. There’s a hierarchy which you’ll pick up on as the evening progresses. Who sits where at the table, who is served what kind of drink, even who gets to go home for the evening with whom–all this is a matter of protocol and negotiation. Don’t argue with anyone. Prod, suggest, imply, insinuate–that’s not only allowable but expected. Anything but an open disagreement. Follow my lead.”
“Anyone I should be particularly wary of?”
“Gale Chassik, the Solarian ambassador. He has allies who mayor may not be sifting for information for him. The Keresians, for one.”
“Gale Chassik... I’ve come across that name recently.”
“So have I. He’s involved in Nova Levis.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Both of them, I believe. The colony and the lab.”
Coren blinked at her. “The lab?”
“It’s in the disk,” Ariel said, smiling. “I’ve been doing a little homework. Anyway, one other you should know about. Jonis Taprin will be there.”
“Senator Taprin?” Coren frowned. “That could be awkward.”
“Don’t worry about him using your presence there against Looms. Terrans will resign office before admitting to petitioning Spacers. He sees you there, he’ll be more worried that you’ll use it. If you do, then he’ll retaliate, but in my experience it’s automatic detente.”
