"What are the charges?" Hofton asked.
"Disorderly conduct. But Palen's been questioning my people about smuggling. " Polifos snorted in disbelief. "Smuggling! Why would an Auroran engage in smuggling?"
Derec looked across the lab and recognized the tense look in the eyes of the staff.
Derec stepped close to Polifos. "I want that equipment, Director. Soon as possible. The quicker we get done here, the sooner we'll be out of your lab and away from your people. But we want the equipment here. I don't want any more confusion over who's responsible for what."
"No, we don't," Polifos answered sharply. "All right." He stepped around the blind. "Hovis!"
Derec looked at Hofton. "What's this about?"
"You stepped on toes in your walk across hallowed ground," Hofton said. "Someone complained. The accusation that we're plants from Palen materialized. There's a rather ugly atmosphere here. Also," he lowered his voice, "I'm sorry I didn't get a chance to tell you earlier. I tried to look into Director Polifos's record. This posting and credentials from the Calvin Institute were all I could find. There's a security block on records older than Kopernik."
"Terran security?"
"No, sir. Auroran."
Derec stared at Hofton, for a moment uncomprehending. Then he shook his head. "We'd better proceed on the assumption that we have even less time than we started with." He showed the disk to Hofton. "I had the blood sample screened and typed."
"Blood sample?" Hofton asked.
"The robot's hand. I found material in the finger joints. Some of it is blood. The rest I'll look at when I get the proper equipment."
"Blood. Wonderful. That should help exonerate the robot."
Derec slipped the disk into the comm console. "We're going to need a complete autopsy report on all the victims, I think. And I want to look at that cargo bin. In person, not on a screen."
"I'll see what I can do," Hofton said.
"One way or the other, we need to see for ourselves."
"I understand. "
Derec turned to address his RI. "Thales, I'm sending a blood screen. I want you to run a match through all available databases."
"Yes, Derec. That may take some time."
"I can wait. " He pressed SEND and turned to Rana. "How's the link?"
"Established. Thales is beginning the first level excavation now. I've set up buffers to receive intact memory nodes as they're found and retrieved. We should be able to view them in isolation."
"Good, good." Derec went to the edge of the blind and watched a pair of technicians setting up a magnifier on a cart. "I want a complete scan for eyes and ears on all this equipment. Have Thales do one on the lab itself."
"All of it?" Rana asked.
"Every bit."
"Derec," Thales said, "I have a consanguinity match."
"Already?"
"Given the probable source of the sample, I began with the most obvious. I am continuing through the rest of the databases on the chance of finding an exact match. "
"All right, what do you have?"
"There is a 99% match to Nyom Looms. "
"So…it's her blood?"
"No. I can display the details, but the distinction is clear. This sample came from a male."
"Her father, perhaps?" Rana suggested.
"No, Rana. Even given the unlikelihood that Rega Looms would permit a robot close enough to him to touch, I ran the same match against his genome and it remains only a close match, not identical. The markers I used to verify distinctions number two hundred eighteen. There is no significant margin for error. The sample belongs to a male relative of both Rega and Nyom Looms, probably a son and brother."
"Son…" Derec mused. "Looms never had a son."
"The record would so substantiate. However, there are always possible oversights."
"'Oversights'," Hofton said. "Interesting way to put it. Have you typed the sample against Looms' wife?"
"Yes. The same degree of consanguinity. The logical implication is that Nyom Looms had a brother. However, no record of such a relative is forthcoming."
"Can you determine age, Thales?" Derec asked.
"That is proving difficult, Derec. Normally there are mutations over time in the chemistry and base DNA. Proteins provide a reliable clock. But this sample shows an incongruity of results. Certain proteins suggest an age of twenty-nine, others an age of ten."
"Rehab treatments?" Hofton suggested.
"The requisite chemical signatures of all known rejuvenation or rehabilitation protocols are absent. This does not preclude that one or more have not been employed that are unknown, but I cannot consequently give you an accurate estimate of age. "
"Send this data to Ariel, Thales," Derec said. "Continue your search for an exact match. Add the databases of all rejuvenation clinics extending back a period of, oh, thirty-five years, and see if anything turns up. "
"Yes, Derec."
"Nyom had a brother she didn't know about?" Hofton said. "Amazing. Imagine that, from a man like Looms."
"Call Palen," Derec said. "We need to see those bodies and all the autopsy reports. " He stared across the lab, watching the personnel, and realized after a moment that he was looking for something that did not fit. "Thales, ask Ariel to run a background on Rotij Polifos. "
Fifteen
You're late."
Ariel nodded curtly to Coren's escort, who bowed formally and left. Ariel stood to one side, waving Coren in.
"Your tailor took his time," Coren said, entering the apartment.
Ariel Burgess wore a gown of graphite-gray material that contained motes of color which sparkled delicately. The cut had no sharp edges and, rather than encase her body, seemed to travel along with her. Coren kept expecting to see thigh or hip or breast or belly through the mist, but, though the fabric covered her reluctantly, it never failed to hide.
She wore no jewelry. Her black hair was braided thickly into a helix laced with silver, blue, and gold ribbons. She appeared to be barefoot. Coren could not stop watching her, thoroughly caught by what he saw.
"No matter," she said. "Fashionably late is better than being too early. Have you ever been to one of these before?"
"No," Coren said. "Rega has never been invited."
She frowned. "Oh, I doubt that. Setaris is always trying to persuade detractors to come see for themselves." She shrugged, then gave him an open appraisal. She nodded. "That will do."
Coren bristled briefly at the inspection. The Auroran tailor complained that he was unused to working for Terrans because they were so short and thick, all the while his lasers measured him and his robot did the cutting. The suit, a midnight blue formal affair, fit beautifully-Coren enjoyed fine clothes, especially new ones, and he had never owned an Auroran outfit before. The sleeves seemed a bit too loose, but nothing was too tight, and after the trip from the tailor's to Ariel's apartment it felt as natural as skin.
Then he felt foolish for resenting her. He had been studying her, after all.
"I'm glad I meet your standards, " he said.
She cocked an eyebrow. "For tonight, at least." She crossed the room to a comm console, dragging his gaze with her. She retrieved a disk and brought it to him. "Take this now, just in case."
"What is it?"
"The subject of our evening's discussion. But later. We have to go. "
In the corridor, she frowned. "How well do you handle the open?"
"As in…?"
"Unroofed space, free air, stars in the sky."
"I can manage well enough."
Ariel looked dubious. They reached a wide area lined with elevator doors. She tapped a code into one.
"Well," she said, "if it becomes too much, there are plenty of enclosed spaces in Setaris's residence."
The door opened on a comfortable car with a plush bench mounted in a semicircle. Coren barely felt it begin to move and after a few moments there was no discernable motion.
Ariel slid briefly against him, thighs touching. His nostrils filled with a subdued odor and he became instantly affected by her presence.