Not that his replacement, Jonis Taprin, was much better. He was openly hostile to Spacers and robotics. Better that than the oily duplicity in which Eliton had indulged, Derec felt.
But it had been Mikels' technology that had undermined the positronic intelligence that ran Union Station and allowed a team of assassins to enter the main gallery and shoot down the gathering of diplomats who had arrived to commence the conference they had hoped would begin reconciliation.
Coren Lanra's employer, Rega Looms, had been suspected for a time. None of his people had been shot during the slaughter, which made him look very culpable. But that, too, had been a set-up.
Their own involvement-Derec's and Ariel's-had gotten them sequestered to the embassy, in a legal limbo, awaiting deportation at the convenience of Sen Setaris, the head of the Auroran mission on Earth. Ariel's confinement had been repealed after a few months as certain duties were returned to her, but as far as Derec knew she rarely left. He often wondered what was taking so long to deport them. It seemed cruel to leave them dangling like this, teasing them with possibilities. He had grown numb waiting.
He finished his scotch and went to the bar for another.
"My question," Derec said, "is how come we're being so careful? Do you really want to stay here?"
Ariel frowned. "I don't-"
"You 're afraid to do anything that might get us kicked back to Aurora sooner. We both know that's what they intend to do anyway. Why are we being so careful? I repeat: do you want to stay on Earth?"
"I don't know." She looked at him. "Don't you?"
"Under these circumstances?" He shrugged and left the question hang. In truth, he was tom. Saying no would mean he had never found anything worthwhile here, which would be a lie. Saying yes meant he was willing to tolerate anything to remain, which would be a bigger lie. His affection for Earth complicated his thinking. He finished his second scotch and set the glass down. "Thanks for the drink. I have some time to hunt down and kill, so if you'll excuse me…"
Ariel raised her own glass in mock assent.
Derec left her offices and headed down the corridors, in the direction of his apartment, his mood muddied by the alcohol. He reached the elevator and punched the button.
"Mr. Avery?"
Derec turned slowly. Coren Lanra stood nearby.
"Forgive me," Lanra said. "I just thought you'd like to know-that you'd be interested to know-that we believe a robot was responsible for Nyom Looms' death."
Derec stared at him. One more point in Ariel's favor…
"That's impossible, of course," he said.
Lanra smiled thinly. "So you say. But I suppose you'll never know now. Thank you for your time. Sorry to bother you."
Derec watched Lanra walk away until the elevator door opened.
Five
"Ariel, you have a call. "
Ariel squeezed her eyes shut and groaned. She rolled over, and the band around her skull tightened just enough to let her know that the muzzy warmth of too much scotch needed several more hours to sleep off. Too late. She opened her eyes.
R. Jennie stood at the foot of the bed, impassive and attentive.
"What? What did you say, Jennie?" Her mouth felt gummy, barely cooperative.
"You have a call. Ambassador Setaris. "
"Hell…what time is it?"
"Two-twenty."
"In the morning?"
"I asked if it would be convenient for her to call again later, but she insists that she cannot."
"Of course she does," Ariel complained as she pushed herself up and swung her legs over the side of the bed. "That's what it means to be an Ambassador. Ambassadorial prerogative…plenipotent-potentiary authority…executive privilege…" She shook her head. "Two-twenty… what in?"
"I brought coffee."
Ariel looked up at the robot. A tray with silvered urn and various cups waited on Ariel's dressing table. Ariel sighed. "Thank you, Jennie. Tell Ambassador Setaris I will be there in a minute. Or two."
"Yes, Ariel."
It seemed to Ariel that her robot left the room gratefully, as if relieved to have something to do other than watch Ariel struggle with a hangover. Impossible, really…or was it? Empathic mimicry was part of the positronic package…
Ariel stood, dismissing the thought. Too complicated at the moment. She stumbled only once on her way to the coffee. She poured without trembling and raised the cup of hot, black liquid to her lips. The aroma, usually welcome, made her shudder briefly, but she swallowed a mouthful without incident and decided that she would manage.
She caught sight of herself in the dressing table mirror and frowned at the deep circles under her eyes. Her black hair stood out in chaotic spikes and she noticed that she had the faint beginnings of jowls and a double chin. The rest of her seemed trim enough, though she had not paid serious attention to her body in nearly a year. She met her own eyes again-normally a clear blue, but cloudy now and slightly unfocussed-and saw the weariness. This past year had been a steady mix of boredom and anxiety, layered over a sense of helplessness. Instead of fighting it she had taken to sense-dulling indulgence. It showed.
She finished the cup, poured another, and pulled on a robe.
R. Jennie had kept the screen on the comm blanked. Ariel sat down before the compact unit, ran fingers through her hair, and keyed ACCEPT.
"Good morning, Ambassador," she said, letting sarcasm leak into her voice.
"My apologies, Ariel, I realize this is an inconvenient hour, " Setaris said smoothly. "I need to speak to you in person. Please come to my office."
Ariel glanced at the time chop in the lower left corner of the screen. "I'm feeling a little-"
"Of course you are. I imagine you have been for a while. Perhaps we can do something about it. Would you be so kind as to be here in an hour? We have some things to discuss. "
"Um…of course."
"Very good, Ariel. See you then."
The link died and Ariel felt a hard lump develop just behind her breastbone. What the hell…?
"Jennie, it looks like we may finally be taking that journey."
"Shall I begin packing, Ariel?"
"No…not yet. But do an inventory."
"Yes, Ariel."
Ariel had expected to be recalled to Aurora for nearly a year. That it had not yet happened worried her. Now that it seemed imminent, it worried her more.
The message light winked on before her. She automatically touched ACCEPT.
A single line of type scrolled across the screen.
Ariel stared at it for some time before she keyed for a trace. She knew it would not be backtracked, she had gotten messages like this before. Since last year's trial, a dozen or more of these had been a daily nuisance. Most had come from recognizably marginal obsessives-harmless in any real sense-but a few had come from people who might have followed up on the threats, implied or otherwise.
It had been a few months, though, since a message like this had shown up on her system. The screens the embassy had installed very efficiently and thoroughly blocked them all. That one had gotten through was a mark of how good the sender was at penetrating protected systems. Which also showed just how dangerous he or she might be.
The trace came back negative. No source could be located.
Ariel finished her coffee and went to dress. Sen Setaris's offices dwarfed Ariel's. Even at this hour, embassy personnel scurried about constantly. Ariel counted five robots between the receptionist and Setaris's private office, and saw minor staff from at least four other Spacer legations waiting in the anteroom. The Auroran embassy contained the main meeting hall for all joint legation conferences, and at least four guest suites were attached directly to the offices. Ariel's own chambers, four levels below, were one of a dozen departmental offices with quasi-independent status. Their importance to the principle mission was reflected in their relative size.