Mark Tiedemann: Chimera

She let her breath out through her teeth, slowly, and Coren felt himself smile.

"Don't tell me you're surprised to see me," he said.

"I'm not. That's what bothers me."

Coren gestured toward the robot. "Umm..,"

"Coffee, go see to our arrangements."

"Yes, Nyom."

The robot released Coren 's arm. He congratulated himself that he did not immediately step away from it. Instead, he watched it walk back toward the group of refugees.

"What are you doing?" he asked the young woman. "Running baleys?"

"You know I am. I have been. "

"I'd hoped I'd been misinformed. Are you insane?"

She shook her head impatiently. "That's good, Coren, appeal to my vanity. You always had a way of making me feel special. "

"I'm serious. Do you know what you 're doing?"

"Usually."

Coren waited, but she said nothing more. Abruptly, he felt awkward and slightly foolish. He glanced toward the baleys.

"Where'd you get the tinhead?" he asked. "Your father would love that."

"To hell with my father and to hell with you. What, did he send you to find me? What are you going to do, throw me over your shoulder and drag me back home?"

"The thought had occurred to me."

She snorted, but took a step back. Then she gave him a narrow look. "What are you going to do?"

He met her gaze evenly, trying to think of a suitable answer. Finding none, he shook his head. "I didn't know you had a robot."

She laughed. "You don't have a plan? Rega didn't send you. You came on your own."

"Not exactly. He did tell me to find out what you're doing and-"

"And what? Sit on me till the election is over? That's what this is about, then. Rega is afraid his little girl's activities might botch his election. Tell him not to worry. I think he can ruin his chances all on his own; he doesn't need my help. In fact, you can give him some good news: He won't have to worry about me anymore at all. I won't give him any further cause for concern."

Coren waited. He recognized the tone of voice, the half smile, and a small point of fear burned at the back of his throat. He slipped his hands into his pockets, the right one finding a small plastic bag. He squeezed it till it burst in his palm.

"Nyom," the robot interrupted. Coren started and Nyom laughed.

"Coffee won't hurt you," she said. "What is it, Coffee?"

"Time," the robot said.

"I'll be right there."

Coffee retreated.

"What do you mean, Nyom?" Coren asked.

She sighed and stepped closer. "Tell me the truth now, Coren: did you tell the authorities? Am I going to be arrested by Immigration and Trade Enforcement?"

"No."

She studied him. "You really just came all on your own."

"Too many people are hard to control."

"That's not it." She frowned. "It's still personal, isn't it?" When he did not answer, she smiled. "I'm really flattered. And I'm sorry. " She touched his face lightly and turned away.

He grabbed her arm. "What did you mean, Nyom?"

"I'm going with this bunch, that's all. My turn to exit. Nothing personal, Coren, but if you found me, then it's only a matter of time before the authorities find me. I'm taking this ride."

Coren felt his fear grow, becoming panic. "Go where?"

"Nova Levis."

Coren released her. He wanted to argue. More, he now really did want to drag her out of here. But it was clear from her expression, from the waiting baleys, and the robot watching everything that he would not be able to.

"Well," he said, shrugging. "I can die happy now. I know you really are insane. " He cleared his throat. "You do know that Nova Levis is under blockade, I suppose?"

"We'll make it." For a moment, Nyom looked sad. "Sorry. I wish…"

"Nyom. Please don't."

She shook her head. "Gotta go. You shouldn't be seen. My contacts aren't as understanding as I am."

Nyom sprinted back to her flock of baleys. Seconds later they filed through the bay door. Coren backed quickly up against a wall, standing motionless until they had all passed out of the warehouse proper.

Behind him, one of the bay doors began to open.

Coren broke for it and slipped around the edge just as a huge hauler rumbled through, carrying a four-meter-high stack of cubes. Its slipstream almost knocked him down.

Just on the other side of the opening, Coren found a massive support rib rising to the ceiling high overhead. He pressed into the corner and waited till the bay door sealed, then pulled another device from his pocket.

He raised the optam to his eyes as he peered around the column of composite metal.

Seven or eight meters from the wall, the pavement ended and a tangled maze of thin tracks spread out, delta-like, busy with huge transports carrying large containers, bins, and packages from the tunnel system that led directly to the shuttle pads dotting the landing area of Petrabor field. The surge and rumble of shuttle traffic drove through him, vibrating his bones.

He was annoyed that Nyom had read him so easily. He had hoped she would assume that he had brought back-up-the police, immigration authorities, other company security. He thought he could talk her out of it; that, after loading her latest troop of misguided would-be Settlers aboard whatever means of transport she had arranged, he could convince her to come home and suspend operations for a time. Until the end of the election. He had hoped she might finally want to stay with him.

He had hoped…

The view through the optam showed the party of baleys, a few dozen meters down, on an empty patch. While Coren watched, a huge pod drifted out of the writhing traffic and came to a stop before them. The end developed a seam and opened smoothly to one side. Four people stepped from its dark interior to meet with Nyom.

Coren stiffened. Two of the four were robots. One looked a bit more sophisticated than the other, almost human, but the dull sheen that outlined its sleek head and body gave it away. It moved with an unusual grace, a fluid, almost organic motion, uncharacteristic of any robot with which Coren was familiar. It circled the baleys, slowly, as if taking inventory. It stopped before Nyom's robot, Coffee, then seemed to come to a decision and rejoined its companions.

Coren touched a contact on the side of the optam and sound came through the bead in his ear, but he only heard the muffled, unintelligible sounds of a discussion. He lowered the optam and tried to adjust the aural filters to compensate for the noise, then raised it again.

The strange robot was gone.

Coren dropped the optam; he saw the robot clearly. When he raised the magnifier again, the robot did not appear. He could see the other robot easily, a machine slightly smaller than Coffee, a bit sleeker. But the first robot remained invisible.

Masked…?

Coren tensed, preparing to act. The baleys began filing into the big container, and he realized that he would do nothing. Nyom knows what she's doing, he thought. At least as far as procedure goes. She did not act alarmed, so he had to assume she knew these people, these machines. It unsettled him, though, to watch her, the last one, walk up the ramp, accompanied by Coffee.

The masked robot followed a minute later, causing Coren's pulse to accelerate again. The other contacts, human and robot, closed up the container, then walked away.

Five minutes later an automated hauler hooked onto the container and pulled it into the maze of tracks and out of Coren 's reach.

Abruptly, Coren felt a wave of bitterness. Failure did that. It would have been so simple, so much easier if she had just come with him. Now…

He opened his palm monitor and keyed for a new signal. A bright yellow dot glowed on the small screen. The smear he had placed on Nyom had transferred from fabric to metal to plastic, a clever seeker code built into the tiny molecules that imparted a kind of machine instinct to find a suitable place to use as a conductor and enable them to transmit.