by Isaac Asimov
“But they also have to obey humans, too,” Sathen countered.
“Not if it results in harm.”
“Bogard was different, though, wasn’t it? A bodyguard.”
“No, even Bogard was constrained by the Three Laws. Whatever happened here, Bogard had nothing to do with it.” Derec drank more coffee, feeling his impatience and weariness begin to turn to anger. “Bogard had a slightly wider range of interpretative freedom when it came to defining harm, true, but nothing that would allow deliberate self-destruction, especially if it meant killing a human at the same time. If it had malfunctioned that severely, it, as with all positronic robots, would have simply shut down.”
‘‘I see... so it’s possible it shut down before the explosion happened, which would explain why it didn’t prevent it?”
“That’s... reasonable. But without its brain or any of its recorders, there’s no way to tell now.”
“Recorders?”
“It was a security robot, after all, Agent Sathen. We built in several accessory recorders not directly tied to the positronic brain. Admissible in Earth courts, since you don’t allow for robotic testimony.”
Sathen narrowed his eyes, thoughtful. “Interesting. So, this malfunction–how likely would that be?”
“It wasn’t behaving according to normal operational standards when I talked to it,” Derec admitted. “Having failed to protect Senator Eliton, witnessing the deaths of other humans, it was likely in the first stages of a collapse. That’s why I told you to leave it alone. It might have been salvageable if it weren’t pushed. I suppose–I’m just guessing, now–that it could have continued to break down after I left. The pathways under breakdown aren’t well understood, only the cause and effect.”
“So when whoever set off this charge did so, Bogard may very well have been completely inert.”
“Could very well have been.”
The silence stretched then, while Sathen worked through the information. Derec finished his coffee.
“This Agent Daventri... did you know her?” Derec, asked.
“Hm?” Sathen shook his head. “No, not very well. She’d just been assigned to Eliton’s team. Before that she worked a different district than me. I knew about her, though. Good agent. A little green, but we all are once or twice, eh?”
“I suppose so. Some of us fairly often.”
Sathen grinned briefly. “So, how is your investigation coming?”
“Mine?”
“On the RI.”
“Phylaxis was taken off of that.”
Sathen frowned. “You were? But I thought that’s what you people do–analyze positronics.”
“It is and normally we would, but apparently your people decided that this time it should be handled completely internally.” Derec heard the bitterness in his own voice.
“That’s... huh.” Sathen gestured to Derec’s cup. “More coffee?”
Derec peered into his empty cup, shook his head. “Do you have more questions?”
“Probably, but I suppose they can wait. Is there anything else useful you could tell me about Bogard?”
“Relating to this? No, I don’t think so.”
“Then, no.”
Derec got to his feet. “Oh, you might remind your forensics people that Bogard was partially constructed out of amalloy. It has a distinctive molecular signature.”
“Right.” Sathen remained sitting. “Thanks, Mr. Avery. You don’t mind if I give you a call later?”
“No, I’d be interested to know how this is going.” Derec glanced over his shoulder, in the direction of the destroyed room. “This is crazy, isn’t it?”
“I haven’t seen anything like it,” Sathen admitted.
Derec left the hospital, the muzziness of too long a day smothering his thoughts. He let his transport carry him back to his apartment this time while he dozed along the way.
At home, he entered the darkened space, not troubling to call for the lights. He stumbled against a chair on the way to his bed before he finally stretched out.
“Zero radiation...” he mumbled to himself, just before sleep took him.
Nine
MIA’S HAND TREMBLED with the knife as she sliced through the meat patty. The aroma seemed better than anything she had ever smelled before. She had not eaten since before the incident at Union Station and had not thought about it till Ariel asked if she were hungry.
“Maybe I shouldn’t say this until you’re done eating,” Ariel said, “but... I thought you were dead.”
“Almost,” Mia said around a mouthful of bread. It was warm, fluffy. She wondered if it were freshly made. She did not ask, not about any of it. She wanted to pretend for the moment that it was authentic beef, natural potatoes, garden-grown greens. More than likely it was the same processed, reconstituted, vat-grown molecules everyone on Earth ate except the very wealthy and powerful. She swallowed and washed it down with milk.
“Bogard got me out. I can’t go back to my apartment, it’s being watched. I can’t go–” She laughed wryly. “I can’t go anywhere.”
Ariel nodded slowly, the crease between her eyebrows deep with worry and puzzlement. “So you came here. Why?”
“Because you have no reason to turn me away and no reason to turn me in.”
“Are you a felon?”
“Victim.”
“Risky assumptions, though. I’m Auroran and several of my people, important people, were murdered by Terrans yesterday. People whose safety should have been guaranteed by you. Why would I now trust any Terran?”
“That’s a good question. I’ve been asking myself exactly the same thing.” Mia tore off a piece of bread and pushed it through the sauce remaining on her plate. She ate it slowly, not looking at Ariel, and drank the last of the milk in her glass. “Thank you. Now I have to ask: Are you going to turn me in?”
Ariel frowned. “Should I?”
“If you do, you’ll never find out who killed Ambassador Humadros.”
“You want to explain that?”
Carefully, Mia recounted the day of the reception, the events she remembered just before the explosions, and the slaughter that followed. She told Ariel about the bizarre behavior of the robots, the chase and capture of three of the assassins. She described how Bogard had carried her from the hospital after her room was bombed. She spoke in an even tone of voice, choosing her words precisely, the way she would if giving an oral report on an assignment, as if it had happened to someone else and she was only the investigator. The habit of training and experience helped, kept the fear at arm’s length, got her through the entire recitation without a break or a tremor.
“There are several unanswered questions,” she said. “Several dozen, actually. But the big ones–who were the assailants, how did they get in through security, where did they get their weapons?–those can be confronted directly. Unfortunately, some of the answers may lead to questions just as large that can’t be directly confronted. My conclusion is–has to be–that someone inside the Service is involved. They knew about Bogard, they knew where I was, they knew the only way to get me was the method they used because Bogard could defend against anything else. But they were also eliminating witnesses. They wanted Bogard gone, too. Besides, I can think of no other way security at Union Station could have been compromised so badly. There has to be an insider.”
“How do you explain the behavior of the RI?” Ariel asked.
“I don’t. Which brings me to you. You have a degree from the Calvin Institute, your specialty is robotics–”
“I’m a bureaucrat–”
“–and you’re embassy staff with a stake in what happened. I think you want to know as badly as I do. Plus, you want to know that it won’t happen again.”
“You’re still assuming.”
“And you’re not throwing me out.”
Ariel smiled faintly. “I have some expertise in robotics, true, but that doesn’t mean I can solve this for you. For all I know, I won’t even be all
owed near that system. Besides, there’s already someone who has probably been called in to do that. Still... assuming you’re right and there’s an insider, that means that any investigation will be hampered, crippled, or blocked completely.”
“Exactly.”
“But that also means you can’t do anything, either.”
“Not exactly.”
Ariel shrugged. “As an Auroran, there’s not much I can do.”
“You’re being modest,” Mia said. “As a member of the Auroran embassy mission, you have a primary interest in this investigation. You can make noise, embarrass people, harass them.” She smiled. “All things you enjoy.”
“Now you’re being facetious.”
Mia shrugged. “Do you remember when we met?”
“Four years ago, Kopernik Station. The day I arrived to take a job with the Auroran Trade Section.”
“I was new on the job then, freshly certified, right out of the academy.”
“And the reason they assigned you to the duty was your high tolerance for open spaces.”
Mia smiled. “They assumed that included outer space, too, so I spent two hours’ shuttle time with my eyes shut and my fingers clamped tight around my seat, not daring to look out the port.”
“You were in charge of security on our baggage–”
“–and you weren’t going to let me inspect your personal luggage–”
“–and you weren’t going to let my bags off Kopernik without a thorough inspection–”
“–and you weren’t going to let a human do it.”
Ariel was laughing. “I’d met some stubborn people before that, but you were the most”
“After you, that is.”
Ariel nodded. “Yes. After me.”
“But I wasn’t unreasonable, was I?”
“No. You asked what kind of inspection would satisfy me, and I said only a robotic inspection. You agreed. Surprised the hell out of me.”
Mia nodded. “So we dragged some poor domestic from the Auroran section of the station over to do the inspection. I told it what specifically I wanted to know about, you validated my instructions, and everything else was kept confidential.”
“I wasn’t used to Terrans understanding anything about positronic robots. I’m still surprised when I find one that does.”
“I trusted you.”
Ariel raised an eyebrow. “You trusted the robot.”
“But I had to believe the claims for them, which meant I had to believe you.”
Ariel gave her a sober, assessing look, nodding slowly. “Yes. You trusted me.”
“It could have meant my career if you’d deceived me.”
“It could have meant your career if you hadn’t compromised.”
“And you had to trust me that I’d abide by the robot’s findings.”
After a pause, Ariel sighed. “We trust each other. Then and, I suppose, now. Is that your point?”
“That’s my hope.”
Ariel’s gaze shifted to a point past Mia’s left shoulder. “And that?”
Mia turned her head to look at Bogard, standing immobile at the archway between the foyer and the spacious living room. Ariel’s robot, Jennie, stood nearby, waiting.
“Bogard? What about it?”
“That’s the bodyguard, isn’t it?”
“Yes.”
“Why do you have it?” Ariel asked.
“I’m its primary duty right now,” Mia replied. “I had to transfer its priority from Senator Eliton to me to keep it from freezing up. Bogard was close to... what do you call it? Positronic collapse.”
“I imagine so. It failed. Why is it still functioning?”
“Because–”
Ariel shook her head. “That shouldn’t matter. A human died that it was supposed to protect. You can’t conveniently tell a positronic robot to forget about one set of duties and take up a new set to keep it from collapsing.”
“You can with Bogard.”
Ariel looked unhappy. “I don’t like it. But I suppose it has to stay with you?”
“Bogard has all the data concerning the assault. There are things I didn’t see, couldn’t see, and most of the others who could provide reliable information seem to be dead now. Besides, I’m not exactly in any condition to defend myself at the moment. I need Bogard.”
“You trust it?”
Mia shrugged. “For now.”
“I’ll reserve my judgment.” Ariel stared unhappily at the robot. Mia did not understand her reaction–she seemed almost afraid of it. Then Ariel shook her head and looked at Mia. “But you have a point about the data it has–it might be useful.” She turned to her own robot.” Jennie, prepare the Terran guest room for Mia. And check my itinerary. Cancel any guests I had scheduled for the next ten days.”
“Yes, Ariel.” The robot moved quickly from the room.
Ariel pointed a finger at Mia. “I want you to make it clear to Bogard that I am now part of its responsibility. I don’t want it misinterpreting anything I do as a threat to you. How long before you’re back up on your feet?”
“A few days maybe. A week at most. If I had some medical attention, maybe sooner–”
“I’ll take care of that later today.” Ariel stood. “I’m exhausted and I need to think. Not a good combination. Make yourself at home. We’ll talk in the morning.”
Mia reached out and caught Ariel’s hand as she walked by. “Thank you, Ariel.”
Ariel hesitated, then returned a squeeze. “Get some sleep. You’ll be safe here for the time being.”
Mia sat propped up in bed in the half-light from a dimmed bedside lamp, knowing she should sleep and unable to slow the cascade of thoughts. She had dozed so much during Bogard’s journey through the warrens that while she did not feel rested, she did not feel sleepy.
Ariel had given her the guest room with no windows, for which she was grateful. She had fewer problems with open air and unceilinged sky than most Terrans, and given time she could manage to overcome those reservations and minor fears she did possess. But tonight, after everything else, trying to sleep with a window looking out over the roof of D. C. would be difficult.
A reader lay beside the lamp on the nightstand, a stack of book inserts with it. Ten pages into something light or dull and she would be asleep, she knew, but she was reluctant. For that matter she could ask Bogard to tranquilize her.
The robot had inspected the entire apartment, much to Ariel’s dismay. It now stood near Mia’s door, on standby, satisfied for the time being that Mia was safe. And for the moment, Mia did feel safe. Her anxiety came from different concerns.
She opened her datum and sorted through a few files. Here, laid up like this, there seemed little she could do. But she knew better than that; her limitations were illusory, borne of her own anxiety of being unable to move easily. She could do a lot just tracking things through datapools.
For instance, she realized, staring at a list of names on the small screen, like sorting the possible sources for certain items-like the weapons. She read down the short column of names of illicit arms dealers. Most of them dealt primarily in the collector’s trade. A wealth of ancient weapons changed hands among certain rich clientele for private collections–illegal but hidden from sight, almost untraceable. Authorities knew who the collectors were, mostly, but not what they possessed. Where once some of these dealers would only have made money in selling in quantity, now they made good livings on the premiums received for one or two rare items a year.
But a couple of them still trafficked in arms the old-fashioned way. For the most part, it was an offworld trade. Sales to Settler colonies, banned by treaty with Spacer worlds, flourished, and the government frankly looked the other way. Sentiment lay with the Settlers and if they argued that the weapons were needed for local fauna or law enforcement, that was reasonable, no? The problem was the sources for such weapons. Small factories and jobshops operated allover the globe, and a few on the moon, and there was one large facility on
Mars. Any of them could turn out one or one thousand of almost any weapon.
The guns used at Union Station were archaic but effective. Projectile weapons. Mia did not know the type, but judging from the wounds she had seen, a fairly large caliber. Even had the RI been functioning properly, energy damping fields would have had no effect on them.
Of all the names on her screen, two dealers were the likeliest to provide such arms. One was rumored to own his own factories. It seemed logical to concentrate on that one, especially since time was short: Kynig Parapoyos.
The problem with him was that his existence was more myth than reality. Was there an actual person named Kynig Parapoyos? There had been at one time, but from the talk Mia had heard at the academy and among the more seasoned agents, he had been around almost too long to be real anymore. So it was probable that Kynig Parapoyos was an organization rather than a specific individual. No matter. Parapoyos, whether one or a hundred, was a real entity that dealt in almost anything black market, and had made a fortune on the arms trade offworld.
So: she needed to buy a weapon. That was the easiest way to contact an illicit arms dealer.
Then, too, she did have real names to track, the names she had heard over the com Bogard had tapped at Union Station. Bok and Lemus. First names, certainly, and harder to hunt down, but better than nothing. The assault had gone down expertly. That narrowed the field marginally. They had moved like ex-military. She could start a search for matches with those parameters.
She closed the datum for the night.
“Bogard.”
“Yes, Mia?” Its optical array glowed brighter at once.
“I’d like to receive your report now.”
The robot shifted from near the door to alongside her bed in the fluid motion that always awed and disturbed her.
“Specify,” it said.
“Relate events from entry to Union Station to present.” Bogard seemed to hesitate, then began speaking in a calm, evenly-modulated voice, starting with their arrival in Eliton’s limousine.
