He looked around. Coffee was paying attention mainly to the unusual robot.
Abruptly, that robot stepped forward, approached Coffee, and made a show of examining it. It moved with a sinuous fluidity that belied its artificial nature, making one slow circuit around Coffee and coming to a halt directly before it.
The skin seemed to ripple briefly. Suddenly, it looked to its left. As Coffee watched, the skin changed hue and texture, dappling and darkening.
"Nyom," Coffee said, "I recommend against this. We should abort and try another avenue."
"Why, Coffee?"
The strange robot regarded Coffee with an attitude of almost human curiosity, as if to say Yes, Coffee, why?
"I am unable to define my reasons, " Coffee said. "The situation has too many unexpected variables. For instance, I do not know what this is." Coffee aimed a digit at the robot before it.
"Come on, " the dockworker said, exasperated. "We don't have time for this shit! The crew will be back any minute-you take it or leave it. You drop this ride, your chances of getting another one go way down."
Nyom turned to her group. "It's up to you," she said. "Do we go?"
The refugees murmured among themselves briefly, then hands went up. "We go," most of them said.
Nyom frowned as she turned to the dockworker. "I repeat: anything goes wrong on this, I'll have parts of you as souvenirs. "
"What, you think we're going to ruin our reputation? Come on, we're professionals-we do this all the time. Now, can be get a move on?"
"Coffee," Nyom said, "you just pay close attention to everything. "
"Yes, Nyom."
The robot facing it spun gracefully and walked up the ramp, into the bin. The baleys filed in, one by one.
Nyom hung back, close to Coffee. "What's wrong, Coffee?"
"That robot-" Coffee began.
"The tally doesn't add up," the dockworker interrupted. He held up a pad. "I did a head count. We're missing one."
"I know," Nyom said. "It happens. Someone gets cold feet at the last minute; they don't show. Can't call it off on account of one or two who change their minds, can you?"
"No, I suppose not. But my people don't like it."
"I don't care what they don't like."
The dockworker shrugged. "So we have one extra couch. Everyone else showed, though?"
"Everyone else did." Nyom gestured. "Where'd you get that robot?"
"Gamelin? Didn't get him anywhere. He's part of the connection on the other end."
"He's…different."
"He is that. Well, you ready? Everyone else is on board."
Nyom nodded and walked up the ramp. Coffee followed.
Within, the light was dim, provided mainly by a single flash held by the robot, Gamelin, and the readylights on the hulking rebreather unit in the middle of the deck. Gamelin was helping people settle into the couches that were stacked to the ceiling, and answering questions in a quiet, raspy voice. Coffee began checking those already settled in.
The hatch came up, then, and Gamelin activated the internal seals. Coffee squatted by the control panel of the rebreather and began running a diagnostic.
"Don't you trust me?" Gamelin asked.
"What model are you?" Nyom asked. "I've never seen one like you. "
"You won't again," Gamelin said, turning toward her. "Better get into your couch. "
The bin lurched and Nyom nearly fell. Gamelin caught her arm and steadied her.
"No talking," Gamelin announced. "Uses too much air."
Coffee did a second check on the rebreather. Everything read optimal. It straightened and watched Gamelin help Nyom with her straps.
"And the mask-"
"I have my own," Nyom said.
Gamelin hesitated. "Very efficient."
Coffee approached Gamelin. "You did not answer Nyom's question. What model are you?"
"I'm a prototype. I don't have a model designation. "
"Are you Solarian? I am unfamiliar with any Auroran design even in the planning stage from which you might be derived. "
"How long's it been since you were on Aurora?"
"Thirty-six years."
"Things might've changed, don't you think?"
"Very probably. That is why I ask."
"Solarian. Now get to your ready station. We've got ten minutes before the shuttle lifts."
Coffee returned to a place beside the rebreather. Gamelin climbed lithely into one of the couches.
("What happened? The scene shifted…" one of the agents complained. "Coffee shifted briefly to standby," Derec explained. "Nothing recorded during an essentially uneventful period. All telemetry is on, but…")
The cargo bin was in freefall, on a trajectory to Kopernik on board a shuttle. Two or three people groaned. Coffee bent to the rebreather control panel and checked the readings on individual respiration.
"There is a problem," it said.
"What?" Nyom asked. She pulled herself out of the couch and swam quickly to Coffee.
("Where'd she learn to do that?" Rana wondered.)
"The monitor indicates distress," Coffee said. "Breathing is becoming impaired."
"What the-we have a defective rebreather?"
"Nothing's defective," Gamelin said, sliding across the bin. "Everything's working fine."
"I disagree," Coffee said. "According to this-"
"Shut up, tinhead. Time to put on a standard mask, Ms. Looms."
Nyom shot a look at Gamelin. "What are you-"
Gamelin reached for her. She writhed in mid-air and slammed a foot against its chest, launching herself backward. Her shoulders banged into the strutwork supporting a bank of couches.
Gamelin pursued, one arm extended, reaching.
"Stop," Coffee said. "You will cause injury."
"Exactly, " Gamelin said.
Coffee twisted around and grabbed Gamelin's shoulder. Coffee's grip closed on softer material than expected. Gamelin jerked around beneath the grip and pulled free, hissing in clear pain.
Coffee opened its hand and saw, in its enhanced vision, a mass of fabric and dermis mingled thickly with blood.
The scene lurched. Coffee watched, immobile, as Gamelin chased Nyom Looms around the bin, while all around people were moaning louder. Several had ripped off their masks, gasping. Coffee looked down at the rebreather.
("Why doesn't it do something?" one of the agents asked. "It's caught in a dilemma," Rana said. "It just hurt something that might be human. It doesn't know what to do." "Human!")
Suddenly, Gamelin caught Nyom. Coffee looked up to see her struggle briefly while Gamelin got a grip on her head and gave a short, sharp yank. The snap of bone sounded horribly loud.
Gamelin let Nyom's body go and pulled something from its belt. It went to one of the clear surfaces and aimed the tool. A brilliant spark leapt at the bulkhead.
"Stop," Coffee ordered. "You will breach the integrity of the container."
"Stop me, tinhead," Gamelin said. "If you can."
"I-"
Suddenly, Gamelin drew back and punched up. The loud bang filled the chamber. A moment later, he pushed both hands through the crack he had made and heaved. Blood oozed from the wound on his shoulder. Air whistled through the hole.
Gamelin swam back to the robot and came close to its face.
"They'll suffocate if they don't put their masks back on," he said. Then he returned to his couch.
Coffee went from person to person, urging them to replace their masks. Some were already dead, though. coffee seemed to realize then that the rebreather was poisoning them.
It knelt by the unit and tried to run a systems purge. That did not work, so it began stabbing the DISCONNECT; all the while the air inexorably leaked from the small chamber. Everyone stared at the now blank screens, mute, the shock clear on their faces. Derec let out his breath slowly. He looked at Rana.
"What-?"
"So where did that thing go?" Agent Harwol demanded explosively. "Obviously, that's what walked out of your morgue, Chief Palen, right under the noses of your staff and your surveillance."
"Coren said it was invisible to his optam," she said.
"Invisible to your security systems, too?" Derec asked.