"Earl, surely you don't think I'm that mercenary?"
"I will pay." He was firm. He'd learned her financial condition as they had traveled together and was glad of it; now he had a lever to gain her cooperation. "Don't refuse, Sheen, on this world you can't afford to be generous." He delved into a pocket. "Will this be enough?"
She looked at the coins, thick octagonals each set with a precious gem, each enough to support her in comfort for a month. A dozen of them lying in the hollow of his hand. "Earl, I can't-"
"There will be a fee for use of the terminals, right?" He knew better than to bruise her pride. "Please, Sheen, I need your help."
His appeal held more weight than the money he offered and he relaxed as, slowly, she took the coins. Money to ease her tension, to provide sustenance, to gain her a coveted position. To provide security and, for him, her aid now and her silence later if she should be questioned.
"We'd best go to the central node." The decision made, she was all efficient action. "I'll get you a technician's smock and you'd best carry a clipboard. Just look thoughtful and act deaf if anyone should talk to you. If you can't avoid a reply say that you're checking on the monitor system." A suspicion verified. He said, "So records are kept?"
"Of course-how else to know the information flow and dispensation of charges." She added further explanation as, after seeing him muffled in a smock, she led him into the underground depths of the computer system. "At first each university had its own computer and data banks but it was decided that it would be more efficient to combine all resources. After all there is nothing really secret about knowledge and a data bank is basically only a library, so all gained by the pooling of facilities. Arrangements had to be made for the dispersement of income but that was a relatively minor problem. The main trouble came in arranging a feedback of resolved data into the general banks."
She talked on, explaining, acting as one colleague to another, her voice low enough to avoid being overheard by those who passed by-technicians, Dumarest noted, wearing smocks similar to his own. Mature men and women with a scatter of younger types who, like Sheen, were taking a postgraduate course. At a corner a grizzled oldster wearing the crossed flashes of electronics snapped, "Your business?"
Dumarest gave it, waited as Sheen spoke in turn, moved on as the man waved permission.
"A check," she explained. "Sometimes students try to sneak into the central node and gain the answers to various test papers. It means nothing."
Dumarest wished he could share her confidence. If the man were efficient he would check, and if he did a record would be made. If nothing else, he could be evicted with his business undone.
"Here." Sheen paused at a door. "We'll use this terminal."
It was a screen above a keyboard set before a chair in a room painted a drab gray. The light did nothing to soften the bleakness. Dumarest looked at each corner, checked the rim surrounding the screen, finally leaned his back against a side wall with the door to his right. Sheen Agnostino frowned as he told her what he wanted.
"To track a man, Earl? His absences, journeys, returns? Is that all?" Her white teeth gnawed at her lower lip as she listened. "I see. Well, let's start with the name. Boulaye? Rudi Boulaye?" Words danced in whiteness over the screen to steady into marching columns. "Excellent qualifications," she murmured. "High reputation as far as academic achievement was concerned. All history, of course, he is no longer connected with the faculty of any university."
"But the records remain?"
"Unless erased, yes." Her fingers moved as Dumarest spoke. "Ten years, you say? Ten?"
"From twelve to ten." This was a guess but the time bracket should be wide enough. "He went on a journey and returned to take up his duties again until he left after his marriage about eight years ago." Unnecessary details, the entire known life-span of the man should be stored in the data banks. Dumarest scanned the words appearing on the screen, heard the woman's comment.
"Nothing unusual there, Earl."
Nothing-but there had to be more. Dumarest narrowed his eyes as he checked the columns; lists of classes, periods of study, absences, illnesses; the trivia of normal existence. An inexperienced operator would have wasted time checking them all but Sheen knew what she was about.
"A journey," she said. "He could have booked through an agency." The words flickered and changed on the screen. "Thirteen years too far back?"
"Check it out."
A long time but not impossible, yet if the man had found what he had been looking for how had he managed to restrain his impatience for so long? Another question to be added to the rest-another answer impossible to find.
"He took a ship to Karig just over twelve years ago." Sheen glanced at Dumarest from her position before the screen. "The only journey he took before leaving for Elysius about-"
"I know about that. How long was he away?" Dumarest frowned at the answer. "Ten months? Are you sure?"
"That's what the data says." Sheen touched more keys as she made a cross-check. "From time of obtaining leave of absence to time of resuming his academic duties a total of ten months eleven days." She anticipated the next question. "It would have taken six months normal to reach Karig."
Which meant Boulaye had never reached the world he had booked as his destination. Again Sheen, anticipating, provided the needed data.
"The vessel was the Mantua, a free trader operating on the fringe of the Iturerk Sink. It would have called at Alba and Cilen before reaching Karig."
If it had followed its posted schedule, but free traders followed profit not routine. It could have missed either or both the named worlds if Boulaye had paid high enough to gain a private charter. Or had the man left the ship at the first port of call? If he had then where would he have gone?
Ten months-in a sector of space in which suns were close and worlds numerous the choice was large.
"Earl?" Sheen Agnostino was waiting at the screen. "Is there more?"
"Check Varten and Hutz." Names gained from Tomlin and Cucciolla as planets visited while on the quest. Lies to add to the rest; neither could have been reached in the available time. Yet Boulaye had found something-where? "Check the transit time to Alba," said Dumarest. "Double it and deduct it from the total. Halve the remainder and check on what worlds could be reached in the available time."
An elementary exercise but even as he gave the instructions Dumarest realized its futility. There were too many imponderables: had ships been available? Had Boulaye retraced his path exactly? Had he even left on the Mantua at all? A passage booked was not necessarily a passage taken as he well knew. A man, suspicious, hugging a rare and precious secret, could well have taken a few elementary precautions to avoid potential followers.
"Two worlds, Earl." Sheen turned to face him as she made her report. "Tampiase and Kuldip."
"Kuldip?"
"The closest." Her face glowed with reflected light as she turned again toward the screen. "You know it?"
"I've heard of it." He remembered Charisse, the Chetame Laboratories-could there be a connection? A moment's thought and he dismissed the idea-what would a geologist have in common with a genetic engineer? But what connection could Boulaye have had with any of the named worlds? What clue had guided his search? Where could he have obtained it? Dumarest said, "Can you run a wide-spectrum search pattern, Sheen? I want anything which could tie Boulaye in with Earth."