Mark Tiedemann - Mirage

"Ariel," Hofton's voice intruded. "Ambassador Setaris."

Ariel touched another button and the space above her desk projector filled with the head and shoulders of a woman with severe green eyes and silver-white hair.

"Ariel?"

"You've seen?"

"Yes, a few minutes ago. Things are a bit tense around here." Setaris hesitated, her face briefly yielding to sorrow. "Lys is dead, I think, and Daril."

Her deputies, two thirds of the principle Auroran ambassadorial representation on Earth. Ariel tried to imagine how Setaris felt. She and Lys had been lovers once…

"Who-?" Ariel started to ask.

"We haven't a clue. As usual, the TBI is being less than informative. Most of what we know has come from the same source as everyone else has-the media. I'm glad you called, though. There will be a panic from the business community. I expect flight, abandonment. If there is anything you can do to calm them down"

"Calm them down! You're joking!"

"I'm perfectly serious. We can't have a wholesale exodus of the very people this effort was supposed to help. If they leave, then the worst factions on Earth will have won, no matter who is responsible for this atrocity. We might never regain a toehold if we turn our backs on them now."

"Given your sympathies, would you really consider that such a loss?"

"I'm not prepared to go into that with you now, Ariel," Setaris warned. "Yes, I would. More than you might expect me to acknowledge."

Ariel suppressed a sharp response and forced herself to think it through. "What should I tell them?"

"That you, for one, aren't leaving and that the Calvin Institute intends to work as closely as possible with Terran authorities to find out who is responsible. For all we know, this is just the random act of a bunch of social frustrates."

"Earth has plenty of those. But"

"Whatever the truth may be, Ariel, our present reality is that Humadros's mission cannot fail. Especially not now. If we allow ourselves to be frightened away and give up on any future dealings with Earth, we may very well condemn ourselves to a slow death, assuming we escape a war."

Ariel felt herself flinch. "I always suspected you agreed with me, but I never thought I'd hear you say so."

"We can debate the extent of our mutual perspective at another time. For the moment, can I count on your support?"

"Of course."

"Good."

"Is Humadros dead? Is it confirmed?"

"Yes. And her staff. And Eliton. I don't know which bothers me more, Humadros or Eliton. He was the best ally we had." Setaris frowned thoughtfully. "What about his vice senator, Taprin? You know him, don't you?"

"Yes, I know Jonis."

"How does he stand regarding Eliton's policies?"

"He's never been the firebrand Eliton is-was-but they were in the same file on the subject."

"Talk to him if you can, see what his response is going to be. We need information as much if not more than action, Ariel."

"I'll do what I can, Ambassador. Call me if-well, call me."

Setaris nodded, smiling hollowly. The image winked out.

Ariel glanced back at the subetheric 'cast, then turned it off. They would be replaying that for the next several days at least; she could get a copy of the complete report at any time.

This is impossible, she thought. Union Station was operated by a positronic resident intelligence, the first permitted to operate openly on Earth in decades. It was a showpiece, in fact, set up and licensed as a demonstration of the potential benefits of positronics for Earth. The First Law imperative would have made it impossible for the RI to allow anyone in with a weapon that did not have prior clearance. It would not allow the RI to permit this sort of terrorist act to be carried out -the RI should have used the mobile robots as a means to disarm, block, or otherwise interrupt the attempt.

Everything Ariel knew about positronics and robotics-which was not inconsiderable-told her that what had just happened could never have occurred. Unless the RI had been modified in some way to subvert those safeguards…

"Damn you, Derec," she muttered aloud. "You finally did it."

No Spacer would attempt to tamper with the Three Laws, none that she knew. But Derec Avery was another matter. She had not seen him since their last argument-a bitter, irrational exchange during which both had said hurtful, unretractable things-which had ended years of friendship and occasional passion. Derec had wanted to stretch the Three Laws, see how far they could be pushed, play with the strict, almost sacred parameters of robotic construction, and she had walked away, unable to accept even the most reasonable of his points. It hurt even more to think that she had been right and he had not listened.

She stabbed her com. "Hofton. We have a lot of work to do. See if you can trace Vice Senator Taprin and connect us. I need to talk to him ASAP. Then get me the list of on-planet Auroran businesses, then clear the com."

"Right away. Anything else?"

"Yes. Send a message to Derec A very at the Phylaxis Group. Six words. 'I see you got your wish.' "

"Sign it?"

"No. I think he'll know where it came from."

The floor of the main gallery had been cleared of people and blood by the time Derec finished with the RI. He looked out the window, a cup of coffee in hand, at the cavernous expanse, all gleaming faux marble and granite, the essence of a past era when travel was as much ritual as necessity. He had stood in more spectacular port facilities, architectures more elegant and impressive than Union Station p. C., but none that manifested history and significance to the same degree. The place seemed mythic, and its lines resonated with heritage.

A few security people followed forensic units that sniffed and searched for minute bits of potential evidence, but Derec doubted anything further could be found to aid them. This was the final dotted i and crossed t of the physical investigation.

Bogard and the woman it had been carrying were long gone. Derec's work here had allowed no time for him to check on the robot before now. Making the operational transfer from the corrupted RI to the Phylaxis RI had taken hours of close attention. Bogard became an afterthought.

Now, with Bogard in mind and his work completed, with only minor details to vett, Derec had accessed a casualty list a short while ago. He had been relieved to see Ariel Burgess's name absent. She had not been here with the others from the embassy. Given what he had seen on the 'casts, he was amazed more people were not dead. The assault had been fast and vicious and apparently indiscriminate beyond the assassinations of Humadros and Eliton.

A beep drew him back to the board. Kedder leaned across it and pressed a contact. "The air scrubbers are back online and… yes, the biomonitors in food service are up, too. Looks like your surrogate is in complete control."

Derec followed a tree of diagnostic glyphs down a screen. "Could you check on the delay factor through the sensory net? It shouldn't be more than a few thousand nanoseconds, but"

"Right." Kedder unfolded from the chair and strode toward the master console.

Derec glanced at another screen and saw that the memory dump was about finished. He pressed the com. "Rana?"

"Here."

"We show a completed core transfer on our end. What about"

"Who is Derec Avery?" a new voice demanded.

Derec looked up and saw two men standing at the main console, staring down at Kedder, who gestured at Derec. By the time they stopped before him, Derec recognized them for government security.

"Mr. Avery?" the shorter of the pair asked. His face had the jowly look of late middle-aged worry. He wore his short hair in a herringbone weave that seemed to float a few millimeters above his scalp.