Mark Tiedemann - Mirage

"Yes."

"I'm Agent Cupra, Special Service. This is Agent Gambel. I understand you're here on behalf of the Phylaxis Group?"

"That's right."

Agent Cupra extended a disk to him. "This relieves you of all responsibility and authority for any dealings with the Union Station RI or related systems and bars you from any official inquiries. It also requires you to turn over to us any documentation, recordings, or reports generated since the events precipitating your involvement."

"What? But-"

"Special Service is assuming all investigative privileges and confiscating all relevant data."

Derec slipped the disk into a slot on the board and scanned the document that came up on one of the small auxiliary screens. The seal of the Service appeared, followed by paragraphs of dense legalese which basically verified what these agents were telling him.

"This is highly irregular. Phylaxis has an arrangement with the government concerning any and all outside spec problems with positronics. This part of the investigation is our responsibility."

"Not in this instance. You'll find the documentation in order."

Derec hesitated, staring at the disk in his hand.

"Whose word will you take, Mr. Avery?" Agent Gambel asked softly. "We assure you, this is all in order. Feel free to verify it with whomever you wish, but we do have the authority to do this and we will have it done now."

"What about the surrogate? It's our RI, we have to monitor it."

Agent Cupra frowned slightly, then shrugged. "That's only to continue operations of Union Station, correct? We have no interest in that."

Derec pocketed the disk. "I will check on this."

"Your privilege, certainly," Agent Gambel said. "Now if you don't mind?"

Derec leaned on the board and touched the com button, breaking contact. "Fine. If you'll come around here, I'll show you what we've set up so far."

"You haven't seen any of the buffer files of the RI?" Agent Cupra asked.

"No, only the playbacks from the video feeds. Do you have something to contain the RI matrix?"

"We'll give you an address," Cupra replied. He smiled briefly, insincerely. "Let's get to work, shall we?"

Derec wandered across the now spotless floor of the main gallery, his footsteps ringing distantly around the immense space. Agents Cupra and Gambel had everything, including the transferred matrix from Phylaxis-Kedder had let it out that he had downloaded a copy for study. Derec could not shake the feeling that he had been betrayed. He had taken the time to make a few calls to the people in government involved with his charter-mainly Senator Eliton's committee on machine intelligence-and they had either expressed ignorance of what was going on or confirmed the Special Service authorization. He might have continued badgering higher-ups, but he doubted it would change anything today; the one man in government who could have made the most difference had been killed. Derec doubted Vice Senator Taprin carried the same weight with the necessary people.

No one in the control room had been at ease with the agents. Joler Hammis had been openly hostile. They did not have the familiarity with these systems that they claimed, but they never hesitated to use the people around them. Poor Kedder ended up redoing most of what he and Derec had already gone over. Kedder kept giving Derec apologetic looks. Hammis stayed for a time, then shook his head and left. Everyone moved cautiously, ever-aware of the agents' presence, as if a wrong gesture might invite terrible consequences. When Derec's part was finished, they showed him the door. He felt numb.

Looking around, it was difficult to imagine that this place had been the stage for the slaughter he had seen. The floor shone now, polished, ready for new traffic, though when normal flow might resume he had no idea. Shuttle traffic had finally, after hours of delay, been rerouted to other ports.

What was the point…? he wondered hollowly.

He stopped in the middle of the gallery and turned slowly, gazing across the unoccupied expanse. It was rare to see so much room on Earth unpeopled. Everywhere in the warrens and metal caverns, people crowded each other. Standing here seemed a luxury for the moment, a pleasantly eerie feeling, a prescй vu, different from "outside," different from standing in a similar place on a Spacer world where crowding was a bad dream and an incomprehensible myth.

He saw no robots now. Union Station had been a robot-saturated environ, unique on Earth. They had provided comfort and security for the offworld travelers that came through constantly, created a familiar environment for Spacer visitors, and facilitated the services of the RI. It had been a showpiece and a diplomatic necessity, something for the proponents of robots on Earth to hold up as an example of how it might be. To see none here now made it stranger yet.

Derec continued to the exit, down the empty tunnel, and out onto the broad apron. A few personal transports still occupied the cordoned-off space. Beyond, the boulevard ran by, and across from that the express strips started. The few people riding past gave the Union Station faзade uncomprehending stares, as if the place had suddenly become something other than it had always been, revealing a shocking reality long hidden.

He climbed into his vehicle and closed his eyes. Weariness, disbelief, and stress combined to fog his mind. He gave himself a few minutes before engaging the drive and pulling onto the boulevard.

The com light winked at him. He pressed the contact.

"Derec."

"This is Rana, Derec. What is going on?"

"You heard, didn't you? Special Service is assuming control of the investigation-"

"I heard, but it doesn't make any sense. I just got an official request to turn over any and all documents and copies of the RI, with an address to forward it. What is this? They don't know how to handle this kind of thing. They'd have to hand it over to us anyway."

"I doubt they're going to 'handle it. ' I think they'll just sit on it, conduct their investigation their way, and then leave the RI matrix as an unopened file. They're covering themselves. A major miscalculation happened here today and, since it's their job to make sure this kind of thing doesn't happen, it's only reasonable that they don't want to compound their embarrassment."

"Reasonable? People are dead and they're worried about reputations?"

Derec did not know what to tell her. It made sense to him, he grasped the kind of venality in play here. So, for that matter, did Rana, given five minutes' reflection, but comprehension did not make it any more acceptable.

"It's out of our hands," he said. "Comply with the request. I'll be there shortly. I have another stop to make first."

"Already done. Do we continue surrogate monitor for Union Station? Thales is already online."

"Yes, we do."

"Okay. How long before you get back here?"

"I don't know. I'm going to check the med facilities. Bogard was on site during the massacre."

"Our Bogard?"

"The very same. I want to find it and check it over. I'll let you know. Oh, and wake up that lawyer we have on retainer and find out if there's anything we can do to get around this injunction. We're supposed to have a contract, and I'm really uncomfortable having amateurs shut me out of it."

"This is Special Service, though-" Rana began.

"I don't care if it's the second coming of Susan Calvin. A contract is a contract, and Special Service has no roboticists."

He could practically hear the grin on Rana's face as she said she would tend to it. The link closed and Derec touched the contact again.

"Location," he ordered the onboard computer. "Emergency medical facilities, this district. List." As he pulled into the garage of the fourth medical facility, Derec felt a chill of success. Several black vehicles occupied spaces near the entrance. A man and woman in dark clothes lounged by the doors, watching the lot.