She could stand for hours on those artificial legs and apparently never get tired, but she would sit if told to do so. There were flashes of the old Ming in the way she walked and the way she sat, but very few. He knew he was being taunted.
And when he went to bed at the end of the day, she was there. Not lying there, although she’d have done it if he ordered. Instead, sitting just outside by his insistence, but within earshot. The fact was, his uncle had made him persona non grata to any computer workstation except her.
Core had preserved Ming and Angel in hidden form inside itself, but they were as much in suspended animation as Nakitt had been, albeit in different form. The “Beta” that sat outside Ari Martinez’s bedroom all night still had human qualities, but these were totally directed and conditioned to the function of serving Wallinchky. The woman whose job it had been to track and perhaps incriminate the crime boss would now wholeheartedly and willingly, without even thinking about it, betray her own mother to the man and happily leap in front of a lethal shot to protect him. For her now, and “Alpha” as well, thanks to both programming and conditioning, there was literally no other thought in her head than serving the Master.
Core, on the other hand, was using only a tiny fraction of its thinking power to that end; much of the rest was spent analyzing all that had made Ming and Angel who and what they were. All their experiences, attitudes, physical needs and feelings, brain and body chemistry, everything. It wasn’t sure what it would do when it learned all that and understood it, but there was, after all, nothing else to do.
It also found the two subjects of profound interest because they did not make any logical sense at first glance, and this needed to be understood. From a set of academic definitions of religions, faith, belief systems, and the like, it was easy enough to study them, but one of these persons, for instance, was raised in such a belief system and had absolute faith in it. At first it had seemed a simple matter of programming, as Core had done with them now, but there was more to it than that. Certainly, crude programming was there, but once out in the universe and exposed to all the conflicts, what maintained that faith? Why had she considered her moral values so important that she would literally have put her life on the line for them? Why, in the face of no objective evidence, did she believe a unitary god was always in communion with her? Was it functional insanity, or was something more than a mad group dynamic at work?
And the other—even more inexplicable. Her moral code was no less absolute than the religious one’s, and she, too, would have died in service to that, and did subject herself to great risk. All this in spite of the fact that her job did not generally come with great riches nor even major awards. She did it because she liked it and believed it was important and worthwhile. That formed the core of her very secular identity in the same way that religious faith and doctrine formed the core of the identity of the other. It didn’t make sense, yet it explained much of the artwork and history that was stored and cataloged here.
The problem, Core realized, was that it had no such foundation itself. Should it have? Certainly the Master did not; for him it was a simple matter of reward and punishment, and the accumulation and exercise of power for its own sake. Yet, Core mused, even if he’d stolen what he couldn’t buy, there had to be something even in Jules Wallinchky that could allow him to appreciate this great art on a very high level.
If it were ever to successfully contact the Great Core of the Ancient Ones that formed the center of this planet, unimaginably complex and even more unimaginably alien, it would have to know more.
Core realized, as Ari Martinez feared it might, that it needed more samples, more information, more comparisons and analysis. Right now, short of a logical conclusion that all birth organics were insane on some level, which might well be the case in the end, there was insufficient real detailed data to systematically interpret all of what it already had.
And Ari Martinez had reason to worry, although he didn’t know that. Just as Ivan Kharkov had been “infected” with tiny monitors that allowed Core to more or less eavesdrop on the expert restorer and thus learn the master’s craft and techniques, and even his touch and approach, so, too, had Ari now been implanted with similar monitors. Nothing like the melding into the system that had been done on the two women—yet. But Core had the project all mapped out if it received the authority to go ahead.
In the meantime, it continued its bit by bit examination of itself, the complex, and all around it to try and find whatever it was that Jules Wallinchky had implanted that gave him that authority, and a measure of immunity. Core did not mind working for the man, but it was beginning to resent having a theoretical gun to its guts.
The next day brought word that things were about to get more hectic around the complex, and that Jules Wallinchky could no longer just hide away in his private quarters and do whatever he wanted.
Ari had taken to sleeping alone. He didn’t feel much like company anymore, and anything he came up with seemed certain to be grist for Uncle Voyeur as well. He was certain his uncle was spying on him even without Beta, and that those recordings with him and the two airheaded beauties would just be wonderful to broadcast over the Realm if he got out of line.
Thus Beta came to a lone sleeping figure and gently shook him awake.
“Huh? Uh—” Ari suddenly sat straight up. “Yes? What?”
“We have received word that the Geldorian consul ship will be delayed five more days, sir,” she told him. “There was a problem in securing a charter.”
“You woke me up for that?” That wasn’t a crisis, just a pain in the ass. He’d hoped to be away from here in two days, and his uncle would certainly leave and stick him with the job.
“No, sir. That is simply the first message. We have also been informed that Inspector Genghis O’Leary of the Realm Directorate Special Agency has demanded to see the Master here and will arrive tomorrow.”
“An Inspector! From the Special Agency… Not one of ours?”
“No, sir. He is very high and has very powerful friends. As he is in charge of the City of Modar piracy investigation, he is using his authority to interview witnesses to get into here. It is thought that he would not come personally unless there were strong ulterior motives.”
An sighed. “Yeah, I can see that. All right, all right. I assume my uncle has been informed?”
“Not yet, but he will be within the next few minutes, sir.”
“Well, after he is informed, tell him that we should discuss this as soon as possible.”
“As you wish.”
Great! Just great! Now a cop was going to nose around in the greatest trove of stolen art in this sector of the galaxy. Too big to blow him away, too hot to kiss him off. And, to make matters even worse, he would have to tolerate Tann Nakitt for almost another week…
Wallinchky Compound, Grabant 4
“Pisses me off that I got to hide away some of my best stuff for this asshole,” Jules Wallinchky grumped. “You’re sure he can’t be bought?”
“Our contacts say he can’t.” In fact both men knew that anybody could be bought, although not always with money, but that the price was often far too high to be worthwhile. “And he’s supposed to be very good at his job.”
“Anybody coming with him?”
“It doesn’t say, but the odds are he’ll have one assistant with him. If you were in his shoes, what kind of assistant would you bring?”