Mark Tiedemann - Mirage

The limo stopped on the apron of the main gallery.

"Car," Ariel said, "you will return to the embassy garage."

"Yes, Ambassador."

"We're finding another way back?" Derec asked as he got out.

"We can use the Auroran embassy offices here," Ariel said.

Derec searched the boulevard for their shadow but saw nothing unusual in the cluster of cabs and limos crowding against the apron.

The normality of Union Station troubled him. Two days ago Derec had entered upon a scene of violence and terror; now it seemed as though nothing had happened. The gallery echoed with the sounds of foot traffic and conversation; the P. A. announced boarding for a shuttle; the floor gleamed with new polish.

There was still a trace of the powder bums along the wall.

Derec felt anxious all the way to the customer service desk. He realized then that he half-expected a security guard to eject him. He glanced up at the row of windows that overlooked the gallery, where he had been two days ago.

At the desk, Derec had planned to use a self-service datum. Instead, the small consoles were all shuttered. A young man greeted them with a vague smile.

"Can I be of service?" he asked.

"Are the datums down?" Derec asked.

"For a few days. We're going through a complete systems overhaul. In the meantime, I can help you."

Ariel shrugged. "Fine. I'd like to confirm a passenger."

The attendant nodded and glanced down at his own console, hidden from Derec and Ariel by the desk. "Do you have the flight number?"

Ariel checked her portable datum. "Shuttle flight two-seven-K-dash-one-one-nine-A. Yesterday at four-fifteen AM?"

"Shuttle to Kopernik Station. It launched on schedule."

"Seat E-twenty."

"Confirmed for a Mr. Aspil, Tro. Final destination… Aurora on the liner Corismun."

"I'd like to confirm that he actually took the flight."

The young man looked up, not quite frowning. "Is this official?"

"He's an Auroran citizen," Ariel said, digging out her ID, "and I'm from the Auroran Embassy."

"But-"

"It's not official yet, but it could be. I'm trying to save everyone some headaches."

The attendant checked her ID. He looked unhappy for several seconds, then shrugged. "I suppose there's no problem just checking to see if he boarded." He handed the ID back and worked at his console.

Derec turned around to survey the gallery. Something bothered him about the scene. The access to the service areas was guarded by uniformed security people. A small truck sat against the wall bearing the Imbitek logo. That was an obvious difference. What nagged at him felt more subtle, less…

No robots, he realized. None-not even the mindless mobile drones that usually scuttled about with luggage or messages or food. Instead, he saw humans doing those jobs.

"I have Mr. Aspil checking in at three-twenty to board the four-fifteen shuttle," the attendant said. "According to the record, he was logged visually and verified."

Ariel sighed. "Fine. Thank you."

Derec turned back to the young man. "Can I ask, when was his ticket purchased?"

"Um… six weeks ago."

Ariel blinked. "Who bought it for him?"

"According to my records, he bought it himself."

"Could you give us the account number?" Derec asked.

The attendant openly frowned now. "We're not really-"

"Listen," Derec said, placing a hand on the desk top in front of the attendant, "there are some irregularities with this and if necessary we can get authorization to go through the records without your help. That might cause you some problems if it has to be explained to your supervisors that we're rummaging through files because someone didn't cooperate when it would have saved time and trouble."

The young man's face darkened briefly. Then he shrugged again. "It's not worth my job. Here." He handed a printout to Derec. "You didn't get it from me."

"I've never seen you before," Derec said, taking the slip.

"Thank you," Ariel said. As they walked away, she said quietly, "It is contrary to service regulations to divulge personal information without proper authorization."

Derec shrugged. "He won't have a job next week anyway-he's a temp. He probably doesn't know the regulations. But he certainly doesn't want an unsatisfactory mark on his performance record." He gestured around the gallery. "Did you notice? No robots."

"It's a shame. This place felt…"

"Like home?"

Ariel snorted. "No place on Earth feels like that. I was going to say 'civilized,' but that's not right. It felt safe."

"Because of the robots?"

Ariel nodded. She held up her datum. "Who bought Tro a ticket back home six weeks before he even arrived?"

"Shows a little foresight, doesn't it?"

"On whose part?"

Derec gave the service entrance another look. "I need to get in there, before they rip everything out."

Ariel pointed to an archway guarded by two uniformed security men. "Embassy offices are through there."

The archway opened onto a long concourse. On either side, stairs at ten-meter intervals led up to narrow corridors. Ariel entered the one nearest the far end. The corridor ran five meters to an ornate, metal-finished door that, Derec guessed, was heavily armored. Ariel slipped her ID into the reader and a moment later the door opened for them.

The reception desk made a graceful arc, halving the floor space in the antechamber. A single attendant sat dozing, head propped on fist, before the elegantly-molded bank of monitors to his right. At times Derec missed Auroran luxury, but it could be overwhelming. The walls cascaded with a complex blue-and-yellow pattern that seemed to shift like falling water as he moved. The desk almost glowed from its high polish. The air was scented, and the carpet gave a good two centimeters underfoot, absorbing all sound from their tread.

"Are we on duty or is this your nap time?" Ariel asked.

The attendant jerked awake, blinking up at them. He blushed briefly and cleared his throat. "Sorry, Ambassador. How can I be of service?"

"I need a private office."

"Yes, Ambassador. Um… no one else is here, so use any of them." He gestured vaguely behind him.

"Thank you."

Derec followed her down a short hallway, past three doors, and through a fourth. The office was slightly less decorated than the antechamber.

"Aren't you curious," Derec asked, "who followed us from the morgue?"

"Of course I am. But how do you propose to find out without causing a scene?".

"Since when have you been worried about that?"

"I'm not, but I won't waste it. I want to find out what's going on. If we start confronting people too early, we might find ourselves restrained. Blocked at the very least." She extended a hand. "Let me see the flimsy."

Derec took the printout from his pocket and studied it. "It gives an account number but no other name than Aspil's." He handed it to her.

"We can see if it's an embassy account, at least," Ariel said, sitting down at the datum terminal. She entered the number and waited. She frowned. "That's interesting. It's an embassy account, all right, but not ours. Solarian."

"But-"

"Tro was Auroran, yes… and the flight terminates at Aurora."

Ariel stared at the screen for several seconds, then forwarded the data to her apartment.

"The ticket was purchased six weeks ago," Derec said.

Ariel nodded. "Before Tro arrived. And the ticket was bought here."

"Why would the Solarians kill their own people?"

"It wouldn't make sense, would it? Besides which, the Union Station RI was a point of pride to them. Seeing it all fail…"

"Speaking of which, it would be a good thing if I could get back there to look at the RI."

"Hmm? Oh." Ariel worked her terminal again. "Wait a second… I initiated a log search before we left regarding this alleged directive not to report minor errors to you. I want to see if it's turned anything…" She frowned at the terminal. "No. It did not come from us. Nor from any other office of the Auroran Embassy." She looked at Derec. "I could do an offworld search to see if my predecessor did, but I doubt we'd find anything. That would mean collusion and there'd be no trail."