She caught sight of herself in the dressing table mirror and frowned at the deep circles under her eyes. Her black hair stood out in chaotic spikes and she noticed that she had the faint beginnings of jowls and a double chin. The rest of her seemed trim enough, though she had not paid serious attention to her body in nearly a year. She met her own eyes again-normally a clear blue, but cloudy now and slightly unfocussed-and saw the weariness. This past year had been a steady mix of boredom and anxiety, layered over a sense of helplessness. Instead of fighting it she had taken to sense-dulling indulgence. It showed.
She finished the cup, poured another, and pulled on a robe.
R. Jennie had kept the screen on the comm blanked. Ariel sat down before the compact unit, ran fingers through her hair, and keyed ACCEPT.
"Good morning, Ambassador," she said, letting sarcasm leak into her voice.
"My apologies, Ariel, I realize this is an inconvenient hour, " Setaris said smoothly. "I need to speak to you in person. Please come to my office."
Ariel glanced at the time chop in the lower left corner of the screen. "I'm feeling a little-"
"Of course you are. I imagine you have been for a while. Perhaps we can do something about it. Would you be so kind as to be here in an hour? We have some things to discuss. "
"Um…of course."
"Very good, Ariel. See you then."
The link died and Ariel felt a hard lump develop just behind her breastbone. What the hell…?
"Jennie, it looks like we may finally be taking that journey."
"Shall I begin packing, Ariel?"
"No…not yet. But do an inventory."
"Yes, Ariel."
Ariel had expected to be recalled to Aurora for nearly a year. That it had not yet happened worried her. Now that it seemed imminent, it worried her more.
The message light winked on before her. She automatically touched ACCEPT.
A single line of type scrolled across the screen.
WE HAVEN'T FINISHED WITH YOU, AMBASSADOR BURGESS. K.P.
Ariel stared at it for some time before she keyed for a trace. She knew it would not be backtracked, she had gotten messages like this before. Since last year's trial, a dozen or more of these had been a daily nuisance. Most had come from recognizably marginal obsessives-harmless in any real sense-but a few had come from people who might have followed up on the threats, implied or otherwise.
It had been a few months, though, since a message like this had shown up on her system. The screens the embassy had installed very efficiently and thoroughly blocked them all. That one had gotten through was a mark of how good the sender was at penetrating protected systems. Which also showed just how dangerous he or she might be.
The trace came back negative. No source could be located.
Ariel finished her coffee and went to dress. Sen Setaris's offices dwarfed Ariel's. Even at this hour, embassy personnel scurried about constantly. Ariel counted five robots between the receptionist and Setaris's private office, and saw minor staff from at least four other Spacer legations waiting in the anteroom. The Auroran embassy contained the main meeting hall for all joint legation conferences, and at least four guest suites were attached directly to the offices. Ariel's own chambers, four levels below, were one of a dozen departmental offices with quasi-independent status. Their importance to the principle mission was reflected in their relative size.
Even so, Ariel was surprised to see so much business being done. Perhaps the entire mission was shutting down. She had heard nothing that would have suggested so drastic a move, but then she had been kept out of most embassy affairs.
Sen Setaris looked up from a flatscreen on her desk when Ariel entered. She appeared as elegant and austere as ever: thick, silvered hair forming wings around her narrow head, eyes large and brilliant green, and the ideal set of lines on her otherwise smooth face to give the impression of experience and intelligence without pointing up age. On Earth she was an anomaly in that regard, as were most senior Spacers: Terrans lived relatively short lives, aging quickly until death at around a hundred, while Spacers tended to live to two or three centuries. Ariel did not know Setaris's exact age, but it was well on toward two hundred.
She wondered if Setaris slept anymore.
"Ariel," Setaris said, smiling thinly. "How good of you to be so prompt. Sit down, I'll only be another minute or two. "
Ariel suppressed a sarcastic smile and sat on the long sofa to the left of Setaris's desk rather than in one of the visitor's chairs. If Setaris noticed the small breach of protocol she gave no indication. She continued working on the flatscreen, touching it from time to time, until finally she picked up a stylus and dashed her signature on the screen. She shut the datum down and turned toward Ariel.
"What do you know about Nova Levis?" she asked.
Ariel raised her eyebrows. "Only what I've seen on subetheric. It's a Settler colony that's been blockaded. They refused inspections for pirate bases or something. "
"That's essentially correct, though, of course, there's much more to it. Earth has requested Spacer cooperation. Ships have been provided to patrol the perimeter of the system, but they want more. They want an intervention. "
"You mean an invasion."
"Exactly. It's out of the question, of course, but we haven't said no yet. They're offering us a chance to recoup our losses diplomatically. If we could give them something to mollify their paranoia we might actually recover ground from…" Setaris let the sentence drift off, her eyebrows raised suggestively.
"What do we have to do with Nova Levis?" Ariel asked.
"Nothing directly. But it has been a transfer point for a good deal of black market trade. That's what started the Terrans on this ill-advised military operation. Solaria is still providing a limited amount of access, though, and Earth has accused the Fifty Worlds of acting in collusion to thwart their legal mandate to investigate and control piracy. "
"Do they actually have such a mandate?"
"They have ships around Nova levis. The finer points of law are so much wind under the circumstances. It's in our interest, however, to be seen as supporting legality in this case. And because Solaria has elected to ignore requests to cease any and all transport to Nova levis, it falls to us to represent Spacer adherence to law."
"And in return, Earth gives us what?"
"We gain credibility," Setaris replied.
The true currency of diplomacy, Ariel heard her finish. She wondered if the Solarians believed that. She was not sure she believed it herself, but certainly her own credibility was no longer bankable.
"Why would Solaria be so…uncooperative?" she asked.
Setaris grunted. "Do they need a reason? But seriously, we don't really know. I've asked Chassik and he keeps promising to look into it."
"Is Nova levis hosting pirates?" Ariel asked.
Setaris frowned thoughtfully. "Probably. I'm afraid they may be involved in something worse. But that's speculation. Whatever they're doing, it seems they think it necessary to hide it. "
Ariel waited. When Setaris remained silent, she asked, "What does this have to do with me?"
"Two things. ITE has suggested to us-without providing much proof-" she gave Ariel a dubious look as if to say as usual, then continued "-that Spacer businesses here are connected to the illicit shipments going to Nova Levis. It seems that-they suggest-baley-running and contraband travel the same routes and that we are colluding in all this."
"That's ridiculous."
"I agree, but can you say for certain? Do you know what our people are doing these days?"
Ariel stiffened, fully aware of the implied criticism. She had been lapse, she had let things slide. She could not remember the last inspection she had administered through the Auroran manufactories on Earth. She found the idea that Aurorans would be tangled up in running baleys as well as contraband ludicrous…but she could not make a case based on current knowledge.
And of course it was her responsibility. She was still Tr
ade and Business liaison…"
"And the other thing?" she asked.
"You had a visitor yesterday. Coren Lanra, security chief for DyNan Manual Industries."
Ariel managed to keep both surprise and disgust from her voice when she answered. "Yes, I did."
"May I ask what he wanted?"
Don't you already know? "He wanted my help. He has a problem with a robot."
Setaris pursed her lips.
"You're not surprised?" Ariel asked.
"Did you know that the daughter of Rega Looms is a baley runner?" Setaris asked instead. "She's been operating a successful underground emigration avenue for nearly five years." She nodded at Ariel's silence. "I just learned this myself recently. I was quite surprised. "
"Did you know that she's now dead as a result?" Ariel asked.
Setaris frowned at that. "This…robot problem-"
"Relates to her death. "
"Interesting. Did you agree to help him?"
"No, of course not."
"Why not?"
"Under the circumstances, I thought minimizing our involvement in what seems to me a Terran police matter would be the best course. Was I mistaken?"
Setaris folded her hands on the desk and seemed to study them. "Not entirely, no." She drew a sharp breath and looked up. "But…there are certain limitations official status imparts which can be very frustrating. All circumstances have boundaries. Mine may be more constraining than yours in some cases."
Ariel frowned. "Are you suggesting that I help Mr. Lanra?"
"The Terrans are very concerned with their baley problem. A growing fraction of them seem to be heading for Nova Levis. The place has acquired a certain status since the embargo, a faux romantic patina making it seem more attractive than other…less notorious colonies. It may be also that Nova Levis has the facilities for trans-shipping them to other colonies more efficiently than trying to get direct routes from here. That's one of the suggestions I've heard. "
"You sound dubious. "
"Most baleys get to where they want to go without a terrible amount of trouble-there are plenty of freelance pilots with ships for hire to take them. And, frankly, I'm not convinced Terran authorities really want to stop them. But Nova Levis is different. It requires blockade runners. This is a problem on an order of magnitude higher than simple illegal emigration. "
"You think Solaria is involved in getting them past the blockade."
"It's one of those certainties one can't prove without creating an incident. It might be possible to prove it from this end with less incident."
"And you've been asked-unofficially-by Earth to see if you can do something about it."
Setaris almost smiled. "You know, you're very sharp, Ariel. I've always admired that about you…even when you're suffering the effects of alcohol poisoning. Imagine what you can do with a clear head and a purpose."
The sarcasm sank through Ariel like a wave of muggy heat. Ariel felt herself start to bristle, but checked it before she said something impolitic.
"I'm not entirely clear how rendering assistance to Mr. Lanra would help us with any of this," she said instead.
Setaris frowned. "Now you're being obtuse. Nyom Looms and Coren Lanra had a relationship once. We don't know why it ended or if it did. In either case, it seems logical that if she's running baleys then her father-or someone in her father's organization-is helping her."
Ariel laughed briefly. "Coren Lanra doesn't strike me as the type. "
"Perhaps not. But the connection exists nonetheless."
Ariel nodded slowly, understanding exactly what Setaris was asking her to do. In a way, it made perfect sense-Ariel was the most expendable member of the Auroran mission.
"Can I expect any kind of extra consideration should things work out well?" she asked.
"Ariel, you know extra consideration is always on the table for good work."
But what constitutes "good" work? Politically convenient or thorough?
"I'll want Hofton reassigned to me," Ariel said.
"I think you need an aide in any case. It doesn't look good to be all alone in your department."
Ariel stood. "What level of access do I have?"
Setaris looked genuinely surprised. "I don't believe your clearance was ever rescinded, Ariel."
"I would like confirmation of that. "
Setaris regarded her for a long time before nodding.
"By this afternoon, if it's not too much trouble," Ariel said then, turning.
"Don't you feel sometimes that you've been on Earth too long, Ariel? That certain of their less admirable qualities have transferred?"
"I like to believe that it goes both ways, Ambassador." She made herself present a pleasant, innocuous, naive smile, though she did not expect Setaris to be fooled. "If you'll excuse me, I have to make some calls."
Ariel expected Setaris to call her back and retract everything, but she made it to the door without hearing her voice. She wondered then what kind of confirmation she would actually get when she returned to her own office and checked.
Her heart hammered as she reached the main corridor. Her head still hurt, but for the time being she did not really mind. Halfway back to her office she came to another conclusion and entered a general clerical station to call Hofton. An hour later, he joined her in the embassy restaurant at a table beside a bank of windows that overlooked an open air park on the roof of the building. False dawn gave everything a shimmery, vague appearance. Beautiful, she thought, and pitied the agoraphobic Terrans who could not enjoy such a simple, open view.
"I understand," Hofton said as he sat down, "that I'm working for you again."
"When did you receive notice?"
"Around midnight. I didn't bother going to bed. I gather you know something about this?"
Ariel chuckled. "She told you before she called me. That's interesting." Ariel gazed out the window for a time. The trees swayed in a breeze. Somewhere to the east lay the Atlantic Ocean, somewhere northwest was the spaceport. It would be pleasant, she thought, to live on a world where you didn't have to make a special trip just to see open sky and trees…
Hofton waited patiently. At some point during Ariel's reverie he had ordered an iced drink.
"Sorry," she said, turning back to him. "To answer your question: yes, I know something about it. Not enough, of course, but it seems we're being given a chance to redeem ourselves. "
"At what cost?"
Ariel shrugged. The question was rhetorical-Hofton understood the machinery of politics better than she. "Ambassador Setaris would like us to render assistance to Mr. Lanra."
Hofton frowned contemplatively. "I suppose," he said, "we have no choice. "
Ariel flashed a sarcastic smile. "Oh, sure. We have a choice."
Hofton looked skeptical, then raised his glass in mock toast. "Here's to damnation, then. Who do we have to kill?"
Six
Coren kept a private office in an old quarter of D.C., far from the corporate warrens of DyNan. He had not used it in nearly eight months. When Looms had asked him to find Nyom, he hired the best cleaner he knew to find any and all eyes and ears. Only a few had turned up, and those had long since been severed at the receiving end. Coren set up a screen to let him know if any new ones turned up, and moved in.
The neighborhood was undergoing one of its period downturns in popularity. Not a year earlier, it was impossible to find available space here, but now even his own building was nearly empty. He had leased the space before accepting the position with DyNan, right before it had become really popular, thinking that he would go into private practice after leaving Special Service. He had never used it for business other than DyNan's, though, and sometimes thought about breaking the lease and letting it go. He was glad now that he had kept it.
He walked through the small reception area and into the main office. He shrugged out of his jacket and hung it on the pole by the door.
"Good afternoon," his Desk said. "Please verify iden
tity."
Coren sat down and placed his palm against the ID scan on the desktop. He felt a moment's warmth as the machine explored his hand, body temperature, blood chemistry, and pattern of bone growth.
"Welcome, Mr. Lanra," the Desk said. "You have three messages. "
"List," Coren said.
"One from Sipha Palen, one from Rega Looms, and one from Myler Towne."
"Who is Myler Towne?"
"Director ProTem of Imbitek Incorporated."
Coren drummed his fingers tentatively on the edge of the desk. "Play Rega Looms', please."
The flatscreen remained retracted-no video, typical of Rega. A crisp tenor voice snapped out of the air.
"Coren, I'm in Dukane District, code appended. I would appreciate an update on that detail I asked you to look into at your earliest convenience. I'll be here till tomorrow, then I'm going to-" He paused. "Going to Delfi. I'll forward the code when we get there."
Coren checked the time chop. Most likely right now Rega Looms' entourage was packing him up to leave Dukane. It would not be a good time to interrupt, especially with bad news. Besides, Coren thought, it would be best to tell Rega in person. He did not want to; for anyone else a comm dialogue would be sufficient. But not Rega.
"Desk, see if you can get me an update on Mr. Looms' itinerary for the next three days. "
"Yes, sir."
"Play Sipha Palen's message, please."
This time the flatscreen slid up from the desk top and winked on. Sipha's face filled the field.
"Coren, we've got prelims on the autopsies. Atropimyfex, an atropine-based neurotoxin. Basic crystalline structure that gasifies on contact with moisture-in this case, the humidity of all those exhaling lungs. It has the same profile as certain beneficial pharmaceuticals, but my pathologist says it didn't need the camouflage since the rebreather's filter system wouldn't have caught it anyway. Baxin is really impressed, by the way. Says this is very sophisticated stuff, high profile. It's used mainly in terraforming work, suppression of indigenous fauna. Very expensive and not available legally on Earth. Someone way up the chain wanted these people dead. He's doing work-ups on all of them just to be sure, but he estimates that death came within five minutes of the first seizures. Paralysis in under ten seconds, then gradual destruction of the autonomic nervous system. It starts breaking down, then, and becomes very difficult to trace in a few days. "
Chimera (isaac asimov's robot mystery) Page 7
