Her two officers, with evident relief, left quickly. Palen came up to the TBI agents.
"I'm disinclined to turn anything over to you," she said, "but under the circumstances, maybe we can share resources. Avery here has been working on recovering the memory from that robot. If he succeeds, we'll all know what happened. If you remove it now, all his work will be lost and you'll be starting from scratch. "
"That's not-" one of the agents began.
Halwor raised his hand and cut her off. "As you say, Chief Palen, 'under the circumstances.' " He looked at Derec. "How soon, Mr. Avery?"
"We were less than an hour away from the first recoveries when you showed up. "
"Then, let's go see what you have." Rana was waiting for them when they arrived in the lab. She frowned upon seeing the TBI agents trailing behind Derec and Palen. She came forward, stopping right in front of Derec.
"Boss, we have a problem," she said.
"Yes, I know. There's a discrepancy in the bodycount."
"Yes, there is. The robot is gone."
It seemed to take a long time for the information to register. Derec stared at Rana. "What?"
"The DW-12…left."
Derec pushed past her and entered the workstation. The pallet was empty, the cables all neatly removed and retracted into the diagnostic link.
"When-?"
"What happened, Avery?" Harwol asked. "What did you do with the robot?"
"Nothing. Obviously, I've been with you. Rana?"
Rana looked embarrassed. "I had some personal business to attend. When I came back, the unit was gone. "
"Thales?" Derec asked.
"Yes, Derec?"
"Where's the DW-12?"
"At this precise moment, I do not know."
"Did someone remove it?" Harwol demanded.
"No," Thales said. "However, I have everything requested from it. I have organized the recovered memories and prepared them in a linear scroll for viewing."
Derec, uncertain and nervous, sat down at the console. "The excavation is complete, then?"
"I have a complete document of the robot's memory, Derec. "
The TBI agents looked uneasy.
"Um…any preferred mode of replay?"
"All options available, Derec."
"Flatscreen and full auditory will be fine, Thales. " Derec turned to the gathered audience. "If you'll all spread out along the blind, please, we can put this on a few screens and you can all see."
"I want an explanation, Avery," Harwol said. "That robot is evidence-"
"Maybe we should pay attention to the main question, " Palen said, "of what happened to those people."
Harwol frowned, unmollifled, but he nodded curtly. "Very well."
While they arranged themselves, Derec made sure the link was feeding to Ariel through Thales. He glanced back to see that everyone was ready.
"Okay, Thales," he said, "let's see what you have."
Four screens above the console cleared simultaneously. A few seconds later, a single view filled them all. The group of baleys gathered around the two people facing each other in their midst. The woman-Nyom Looms-looked angry, impatient. The man, dressed in dockworker's dull yellow togs, faced her stoically, arms folded, waiting for her to finish.
("Is there audio?" one of the TBI agents asked. "Thales," Derec prompted. "Incomplete. I am working on filling gaps.")
Nyom Looms raised one hand, finger aimed at the dockworker, and almost jabbed him. He dropped his arms and said something.
("Pocivil," Palen mused. "What's that?" Harwol asked. "Nothing," Palen said.)
"-forming you now-have backup-prepared. It's the same as it was, only different. A new canister. We are professionals. "
The robot turned toward the group. Someone was working his way forward and had come to a halt at the very edge of the half-circle.
A window appeared at the lower right corner of the screen, and a series of faces scrolled quickly by, matching text on the left. The words NO MATCH appeared in place of the faces. The robot moved toward the stranger.
("That's Coren," Palen said. "Who?" one of the TBI agents asked. "Later; " Palen said.)
"All right," Nyom said. "But if this turns out to be anything but copasetic, I'll peel your skin off with pliers. Tell your people we're ready."
Suddenly, Coren stepped forward, a half-smile on his face. The robot reached him at that point and gripped his right arm. Coren looked up angrily, but his expression changed quickly to fear.
"I apologize, sir, but I must ask that you come with me." The robot walked him back through the crowd of baleys, who looked frightened and angry themselves.
They emerged from the crowd and continued on to the next bay. The robot stopped. Coren gave it another nervous glance, then turned abruptly.
"Damnit, Coren!"
Coren smiled wanly. "Good to see you, too, Nyom."
She hissed through clenched teeth.
"Don't tell me you're surprised to see me," Coren said.
"I'm not. That's what bothers me."
Coren nodded toward the robot. "Umm…"
"Coffee, go see to our arrangements."
"Yes, Nyom," the robot said.
The robot-Coffee-released Coren and returned to the group of baleys. It worked its way through them. Some cringed from it, but most stood their ground with stolid expressions, afraid but unwilling to show it.
Coffee emerged from the huddled refugees just as the dockworker returned, followed by four individuals. The window appeared at the lower left again as Coffee attempted to find matches.
One of the four was another robot.
("Looks like a DM-70," Rana whispered. "But what's that?")
One of the four looked distinctly artificial, surface a smooth, dull gray, but it was far more humaniform than either of the other two robots. Coffee gave this one a close examination. The view zoomed in on its head. Human-imitation eyes peered back. It wore close-fitting black: shirt, pants, and soft boots, which seemed silly for a robot.
("Look at the way it moves," Derec said.)
"Everybody ready?" the dockworker called out. He turned to Coffee. "Where's your boss?"
"One moment."
Coffee made his way back to where Nyom and Coren stood talking. It stopped a short distance from them. "Nyom."
Coren started and Nyom laughed. She began to reach toward him. "Coffee won't hurt you. What is it, Coffee?"
"Time."
"I'll be right there."
Coffee returned once more to the group of baleys. "She is on her way, " it told the dockworker.
"All right," Nyom's voice snapped. "Let's get this boat sailing, shall we?" She stopped upon seeing the newcomers, frowning. "Who are these?"
"My dock crew," the first dockworker informed her. "It wasn't hard to get everybody else to go out for a drink, but I think they'd draw the line at longshoring an illicit bin and loading up a bunch of baleys, don't you think?"
Nervous laughter came from the group of baleys. Nyom nodded, her eyes on the strange robot.
"This way," the dockworker said, leading them through the open bay.
They passed through the huge doorway. The baleys stopped on the broad apron between the warehouse doors and the maze of tracks upon which cargo bins scurried en route to and from the shuttle fields of Petrabor port. One bin came almost directly at them, stopping abruptly on its magnetic rails less than five meters away. Its door folded down.
"Okay, folks," the dockworker said, clapping his hands. "Here's the drill. Inside you will find an array of bunks-acceleration couches-each one with a breather mask attached to a rebreather. There's enough air in the bin for the ride up to Kopernik and the transfer to the ship that'll take you on to Nova Levis, as long as you use the rebreather. One of my associates here will ride up with you and make sure you know how to use the masks and will stay as security till you make the transfer to the ship. Once aboard ship, you will be released from the bin and provided regular berths for the main leg of the voyage. Once you are secured in your couches, do not-I repeat, do not-get out of them. There isn't enough room for floating around, and you could injure yourselves. Any questions?"