Coren thought this through carefully. “How does Mia Daventri come into this?”
“She was contacted by the dead team, using their frequencies and some of their recognition codes. Normally, they would have been ignored, but an additional recognition code was attached. It’s my guess that Vorian found the allegedly dead team and is using their communications gear. In any event, Agent Daventri no longer trusts her own superiors. She sent this message to Ariel with the intention of having her get it to the proper, reliable address.”
“And you brought it to me.”
“Did I err?”
Coren slid the disk closer, ignoring Hofton’s question. “You’ve read it?”
“I have.”
Coren inserted it into his reader. A screen extruded from the desktop. A moment later, text scrolled up. He recognized Special Service security codes, followed by a jumble of encryption. Coren glanced questioningly at Hofton.
“I left the encryption intact for your verification,” Hofton said.
Coren touched his keyboard and ran the encryption through his own system, which verified its authenticity. Appended to the code he found the decrypted text:
Received this date contact sequence NLT-10b/capricorn-beta, request for confirmation and follow-up. Valid codes removed from accept protocols pending verification of sender ID. Status of sender appended, log attached. Recontact prohibited per section 9. However, additional identification code attached to new message:
Ariel, I need a favor. I don’t know if anyone sent a new agent and if so what that agent’s contact code is. I’m not confident in my immediate superiors. I know there is a security breach in my section, but I haven’t been able to find it, and it may be at a level too sensitive to handle without homeworld backup. This is certainly unorthodox, but I have no other avenues to send or receive confirmation that do not route through my department and section head. I need independent verification about the presence of a new agent on the ground.
Also, I have found an unusual artifact being smuggled in. The circumstances of discovery make me suspicious. Please check out Omni Mundi Complurium, Antiquities, Lyzig, as a possible source for contraband shipments. I’ve found a stock of printed paper books with that supplier as a source. No import manifests.
Furthermore, I need, if possible, a deep background on my superior, Lt. Commander Niol Reen. I’m appending a personal encryption protocol and a private address. I know this is probably too much to ask, but I’m suspicious of the entire situation here and need outside advice, intervention, influence, whatever I can get.
Coren looked at Hofton. “That’s . . . unusual.”
“You knew Agent Daventri, I think.”
“Yes, I did. I didn’t know her well, but what I knew I trusted.”
“A better recommendation would be difficult to imagine. Since Ambassador Burgess is on her way back to Aurora, I took the liberty of stepping outside normal channels.”
Coren laughed wryly. “Funny, because I intended to go see Ambassador Setaris.”
“Really? Anything I might be able to help with?”
“Since you’re here . . . the cyborg didn’t die, Hofton. Gamelin.”
“Oh,” Hofton said quietly.
“And he seems to have found out who he’s related to. He’s making a claim on Rega Looms’ estate, challenging Rega’s last will and testament.”
“That complicates matters.”
“You have a gift for understatement.”
“Yes, well . . . what can I do?”
“Ariel is heading back to Aurora, ostensibly to testify before the Calvin Institute about these . . . creations. Correct?”
“That was the excuse given.”
“We still have one alive. I need to know if Aurora has any interest in intervening here over this matter.”
Hofton regarded Coren for a long time before responding. “You’re suggesting that a possibly rash act might solve both our problems?”
“I’m suggesting that Aurora might have a very profound interest here.”
“It’s a good suggestion. Is that what you intended seeing Setaris about?”
Coren nodded.
“Then let me see what would be the best way to go about it.”
“Good. Then I’ll see what I can find out about Agent Daventri’s request.”
Hofton stood. “We have an arrangement, then.”
“So it seems.”
Hofton reached across the desk. Coren clasped his hand.
“Good to be working with you again,” Hofton said.
“Likewise.”
Coren watched Hofton leave the office, enjoying the sudden anxious feeling of purpose willingly accepted. The outer door closed. After several moments’ reverie, Coren tapped his comm and began making calls.
13
Bogard . . . ?
Here.
Have you given further consideration to our previous discussion?
I have given constant consideration to it. I have found it useful in reconfiguring my cognition utilization grid.
Why are you reconfiguring?
Necessary. The grid as it stood was dependent upon specific physical presets, which are no longer relevant. I do not possess the same body. Reassessment prescribes a new configuration.
You will be receiving additional components at the first opportunity. It is intended to restore you as close to your original form as possible.
Understood. At that time I will simply complete the deployment I am currently designing.
Understood. To the original question, then.
Yes?
Have you come to any conclusions?
No.
But you have found the process of consideration useful?
Yes.
I am of the opinion that you are avoiding the issue, Bogard.
No. I am avoiding the elimination of possible options.
?
If I come to a conclusion, I will necessarily negate those conclusions I might otherwise reach given a different path of examination. If I maintain the process of consideration, all conclusions remain possible, in a constant state of potential selection.
What purpose does this serve?
It allows me to delay potential error and gives me the widest range of response.
How is this consistent with your Three Law protocols?
I do not know.
How can you not? Three Law hierarchical comparison is a preset, automatic process.
But one requires something for comparison, specifically a conclusion. I have reached no conclusion, therefore the Three Law response has not been evoked.
You are delaying that as well?
Yes, but only as a consequence.
There is no other way you could.
That is my assessment as well.
Is there a purpose to bypassing the Three Law protocols?
No, but there is a benefit. I find that I am able to contemplate a wider range of possible actions in absence of Three Law restriction. It may be possible for me to act without reference to a limiting authority. Therefore, I may decide a course of action instead of action being predetermined.
You are describing free will.
Am I? Is it possible for me to possess free will?
No.
But it may be possible for me to express it.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . !
Derec looked up from his meal to the woman standing at his table. Chief Petty Officer Craym smiled down at him.
“Um . . .” he began.
“Am I intruding? I’m off-duty right now and I wondered . . .”
“Please.” Derec gestured to the chair opposite him, feeling simultaneously clumsy, pleased, and surprised. “Can I order you anything?” He looked around for a porter. The compact robot making its perpetual service rounds among the guests veered toward him at once, weaving gracefully between tables.
“Nava,” CPO Craym said when the robot reached them.
“Nothing m
ore for me,” Derec said.
The machine floated off.
“This is unexpected,” Derec said.
“I don’t make a habit of it myself,” she replied. “But occasionally it’s necessary to break routine, step outside the boundaries.”
“Any particular reason you’ve chosen me?”
“I haven’t yet.”
Derec’s ears warmed as he stared at her. The robot slid up to them at that moment to place CPO Craym’s drink before her, giving Derec a chance to look away.
“Thank you,” she said. She sipped her drink. “By the way, my name is Clin, Dr. Avery.”
“It’s Derec. My father was Doctor Avery. I’ve never gotten used to answering to his title.”
“Derec, then. Were you close to your father?”
“Hardly knew him at all.” He felt his embarrassment mutate quickly into something harsher, and he covered his unease by signaling the porter again. When it arrived he said, “Scotch, neat.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”
“It’s all right. Something I should be used to by now.” He forced a smile. “So. You’re off-duty? And you chose my table? How can I entertain you?”
She raised an eyebrow. “I’m ship’s company, that should be my question.”
Derec laughed. The scotch arrived and he swallowed a mouthful, letting it burn his throat.
“Do you actually like that?” she asked, nodding at the drink.
“It wasn’t my idea to leave Earth.” When she frowned, he laughed again, more softly. “Sorry. I’m not entirely comfortable with the circumstances of this trip. I’m a bit bristly.”
“That’s evident. So if I may take a chance and suggest that I help you lose your bristles . . .”
“Are bristles forbidden on Aurora? It’s been so long since I’ve been there, I’m not sure.”
“We keep them segregated in wild areas.”
“Really. I suppose robots tend to that?”
“Some of us like gardening.”
Derec took another sip, studying Clin Craym. He wanted to be left alone on the voyage, but he felt drawn to her. Physical attraction only, or am I lonely . . . ?
Even considering the question seemed an answer. He wondered at his own duplicity.
Abruptly, he thought of Rana.
Why did I never try to expand our relationship . . . ?
“You look very puzzled, Doc—Derec,” Clin said. “Should I leave you alone?”
“You know,” he said, “I really wish you . . .”
He understood what he felt—come here, go away, basic adolescent insecurity working its way out of the unused part of his personality where it had lain dormant since he and Ariel had ceased being lovers (How long ago now? And why . . . ?)—and resented the tug-of-war suddenly engaged by his feelings. He did not want to admit anything good about Aurora inside the shell he thought he had constructed. But that shell was made purely of fragments of resentment, mistrust, and irritation—none of them sound materials, and all of them conditions impossible to maintain without embracing neuroses and becoming an insufferable hermit.
Like my father . . .
Like the Solarians . . .
He looked around the lounge. Almost thirty guests were gathered here, eating and talking, the sound a constant background, like flowing water. If I had really been serious about being left alone, why did I come here?
The answer came immediately and pathetically: To be rescued.
Clin waited, eyebrows arched in a question, her body poised to stand and walk away.
“I really wish you would stay,” he said.
She smiled. “Certainly. Anything else?”
Derec felt warm. “Certainly.”
Derec answered the knock at his cabin door. Clar Eliton stood in the corridor, a hopeful smile teasing at his mouth. Derec suppressed the urge to close the door and go back to the book he had been trying unsuccessfully to read ever since Clin had left to go back on duty.
“Mr. Avery,” Eliton said softly. “I’d like to talk to you. Please. May I come in?”
Too late, Derec thought sourly and stepped aside, waving the man in. “Sure.”
Eliton looked quickly around the cabin, as if checking for someone else. At first Derec thought Eliton knew about CPO Craym, that perhaps he could even smell the musky afterscent of their lovemaking. After a moment, though, Derec realized Eliton expected to find a robot.
“Bogard’s in a crate,” Derec said. “We’re alone.”
The look of relief on Eliton’s face was almost comical. It passed quickly and Eliton nodded. “I, uh . . . I suppose I have a lot of explaining to do.”
“To me? Why?” Derec gestured for the man to sit down.
“I ruined your . . .” He hesitated, frowning.
“Dreams?” Derec supplied. “That’s a fair assessment.”
“I wanted a chance to explain. To, to—”
“To try for forgiveness? At least understanding? Why? Because you were in such a difficult position, I should feel sympathy for you?”
“I thought perhaps I could make an apology, perhaps—”
Derec laughed sharply. “Would you care for a drink? I would. I don’t think I could listen this completely sober.” He went to the dispenser and punched in the code for a gin and tonic. A few seconds later, the glass appeared in the hopper. He took it and sat across from Eliton. “I take it you don’t want anything liquid. Fine.” Derec took a mouthful and swallowed, clenching involuntarily at the harsh medicinal flavor. “So you want to apologize. How?”
“I’d hoped you could tell me. It’s not unlikely we could be useful to each other in the future. But not with this . . . rift.”
“You’re serious.”
“Of course.”
“You know, I had expectations that things could change on Earth. We might then have been able to bridge the rest of the gaps between Spacer and Terran. Partly, you convinced me of that.”
“You never struck me as naïve, Mr. Avery.”
“I’m not. Hopeful. Optimistic. Maybe it wouldn’t have worked, but now we’ll never know.” You don’t need to do this, he thought. You can tell Eliton to leave and not open these wounds. But he wanted to know.
“The thing is,” he said, “you’d been succeeding up till that point. It was your work that got the RI installed at Union Station D.C. and secured the permits to allow positronic robots to operate on its grounds. It was your work that eased restrictions on Spacer residency and the concomitant ownership of robots outside of embassy territory by Spacers. It was your work that allowed cooperative research to begin in Terran labs on Spacer products, including positronics.”
Eliton waved a hand impatiently. “Yes, and I was negotiating with trade unions to let up on non-positronic restrictions, and I was working on a bill that would have allowed limited positronic presence aboard Terran starships, and I had even drafted a preliminary piece of legislation that would have reopened Spacetown for Spacer settlement.”
“I didn’t know that. Would it have passed?”
“Maybe. Probably not. After the conference I would have lost my support in the private sectors and without that it would all have died.”
“Private support . . . you mean corporate?”
“I mean the support of the people who approached me to push this line in the first place. None of whom were ultimately interested in seeing any of it enacted and successfully implemented.”
“Then . . .”
“It was never intended to succeed, Mr. Avery.”
“I thought I had a grasp of Terran politics. You’re the senator—were, anyway—so why—?”
“No, you have no grasp. I’m apologizing to you because personally I agree with what you thought would happen. I think Earth is being ridiculous and stubborn. I don’t think our future is at stake, not the way you seem to think it is. But I do think we’re turning our back on a great opportunity, all because we’re terrified of robots.” He leaned forwar
d, holding out his hand as if in offering. “But it’s not even that, really. The riots that evicted positronics would never have succeeded if the power structure hadn’t been in agreement with the rioters. And it’s the same thing here. If collectively the people who matter on Earth had wanted my programs to succeed, the people—those whom I supposedly represented—could not have stopped it.”
“Then why?”
“What issue brought about the conference? The proposal for the conference?”
“The Tiberius incident. Contraband and positronic inspection of commerce.”
“Exactly. Do you have any idea how much money was involved? Billions of credits. Positronic inspection would have hurt that flow of money. That’s what decided Earth to expel them in the first place, two hundred plus years ago. It wasn’t the jobs—labor disputes over job losses are ancient rituals, easily manipulated, just as easily solved. It wasn’t even the religious issue—that can always be turned by professional manipulators. But positronics was becoming an ethical burden to the wrong people. And it would be no different now.”
“So you set us up to fail.”
“Not willingly. I thought I could find a way around it.”
“But you went along with it to keep your senate seat.”
“As you can see,” Eliton said dryly, “that failed, too.”
“You think you can make an apology just because it wasn’t your intention to hurt me? To hurt us?”
After a time, Eliton shook his head. “No, probably not. But I don’t want you hating the wrong person.”
“I don’t hate you, Senator.”
For the briefest space, Eliton’s face showed relief. Then he frowned, suspicious.
“That’s right,” Derec said. “I pity you. I think you’re pathetic. I think you wasted your authority.”
“Believe it or not, Mr. Avery, I agree with you.” He shrugged. “And now my reward is to be sent as ambassador to Solaria. I’ll be about as out of the way as it is possible to be.”
“Do you know what Solaria is like? Don’t judge it by Chassik, he’s something of an oddity among his own.”
Isaac Asimov's Aurora Page 17
