Mark Tiedemann - Mirage

"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.

Mia listened to the recitation, eyes closed, imagining the scene as Bogard related the detail at length. The crowds, the security, the shouted anti-Spacer and anti-robot slogans, the expanse of the station proper, the assembled dignitaries, the arrival of the Auroran legation

"Stop." She looked up at Bogard. "Go back. Repeat from phrase 'several explosions occurred' and continue."

"Several explosions occurred-do you require a specific number?"

"No. Continue."

"-at which time my defense priority changed from potential to full prophylactic. A number of individuals emerged from the crowd surrounding the platform, armed with projectile weapons, and began firing upon the humans gathered on the platform. Several humans were injured. Agent Daventri asserted priority, ordered me to discontinue uplink with Resident Intelligence, and commanded that I render aid in tracking and capturing one or more of the assassins-"

"Stop. Review. Why have you left out detail?"

"Specify."

Mia pushed herself up straighter in bed. "You enshielded Senator Eliton. You left that out."

"I have no record of that action."

"You attempted to enshield Ambassador Humadros. You left that out."

"I have no record of that action."

Mia frowned. "Review elapsed time starting from the explosions to the point at which I requested your assistance."