Manz squinted uncertainly at the Minder. “Are you trying to be sarcastic?”
“Not at all. Merely objective. That is what I am designed to be.”
“Honestly,” Manz muttered, “there are times when I’m convinced that the majority of today’s software originates from designers who’ve spent half their lives in asylums.”
“They build their own asylums around them,” Vyra observed.
Hafas was more than merely distraught. “Now you really might as well go back to your hotel. Your concern here is with your missing shipments, not JeP homicides. Even if they should turn out to be related.”
“If it’s all the same, I think I’d like to nose around a while longer.” Vyra was scrutinizing the far reaches of the service corridor. “I want to go over possible approach routes to this part of the Port. It’s seether puzzling, you know.”
“What is?” Manz asked her.
“Why neither of these two doubtlessly well-trained and highly competent officers utilized their weapons. That they didn’t manage to do that isn’t what intrigues me. It’s that according to preliminary forensics they didn’t even try. I noticed that both their handguns had their safeties off and were armed. Yet there’s nothing to indicate that either man tried to draw, or activate his automatics.” She moved closer to Manz and he could smell her offworld perfume.
“You saw the look on the senior officer’s face. He had time to see something and to recognize it, yet whatever it was kept him from flicking on his automatics even to protect himself. I find that more than curious. You know me and my curiosity.” As he was about to comment, she put a finger to his lips. “No cracks about it killing me, either.”
He smiled and she withdrew her finger. “Satisfy yourself, Vyra. You always do. Me, I’m going back to my room to get bubbled. Join me when you’re through?”
“Maybe.” Her manner was unavoidably coquettish.
Hafas joined Manz in watching her saunter off down the corridor. “If you need to get in touch with me, use my personal com code. I’m likely to be over at District Central, trying to explain this.”
“I have my own explaining to do, but not until after I’ve relaxed a little. Anything develops…”
“… You’ll be the first to know.” The inspector eyed him hard. “Can I rely on you and your associate to extend me similar courtesy?”
“Count on it. I’m here to do my job, not work for professional self-aggrandizement.”
“Good. That leaves more for me.” Hafas smiled, showing teeth that had been repaired many times. “Can I give you a ride back?”
“I’d appreciate it. I’ll be along directly.”
After the inspector had left, Moses swiveled on his trackball. “I’d like to have another look at the Security cubicle here. Make some detailed recordings.”
Manz hesitated. “Can I leave you alone?”
“The location of our temporary residence is firmly fixed in my memory.”
“I’m not worried about your finding your way back. I’m worried about you finding trouble to get into. I still think you’re overdue for a cortical scrub.”
“I assure you, Broderick Manz, my intent is only to acquire potentially efficacious background information.”
“All right,” Manz agreed reluctantly. “Do your work and then report back to me. In person.”
“I comply.” The mechanical pivoted and whirred back the way they’d come.
If I was permitted that kind of freedom I’d find myself a nice, quiet cave and settle in for some serious meditation. Not allowed, of course. There are certain embedded cortical commands I am unable to override. But you understand. Human minds aren’t really so very different. You have similar commands fixed in your own brain, even if you won’t admit to their presence. Try overriding them next time you’re at a family gathering and see for real how truly restricted your life and your actions are.
It was a simple matter to trip the lockseals outside the Security alcove. The same sandy-haired young man who’d earlier replied firmly to Hafas’s questions turned in his chair to gape at Moses as the mechanical rolled in, making sure that the armored door closed behind him.
“Hey, you! You can’t come in here.” The operative twisted to see behind the mechanical. “Where’s your human?”
“Trying to relax, I hope. I am fully qualified to execute my functions independent of proximate human supervision.” Even as he spoke he was conducting an in-depth inspection of the visual monitoring system. “Who’s been tampering with your infrared sensors?”
“Huh?” The confused operative swung back to scan his board. “What tampering? No one’s been tampering with any of our sensors.”
“I didn’t think so. Just thought I’d test your responsiveness.” One flexible limb reached toward a section of board. “I believe this is a vacant terminal. I’ll want to check sensitivity levels, field actualization strengths, coherency matrixes and more, especially for the sensors inside the transshipment security shed. I’ll want your stats for the last six months on energy flux variations for all your equipment.”
The technician gazed fixedly at his uninvited visitor. “Listen, you: even assuming you’re authorized to acquire such information, I haven’t been told to give it to you.”
“Your physical cooperation may not be required.” Moses inserted a tentacle tip into the open receptacle he’d located. Immediately a battery of telltales sprang to life beneath it.
“I believe you call this getting information from the goat’s mouth.”
“Horse,” the tech corrected him. “You’re a pretty sophisticated piece of work. Mind telling me what kind of extraction hardware you’re using?”
“No can do. Company policy. Would if I could.” Lights blinked energetically.
The technician was still uncertain. “This has all been approved by Port Authority?”
Moses mimicked a human nod. “Also the JePP Department and Braun-Ives Security. Please perform whatever checks you feel necessary.”
“I think I’ll do just that.” The tech reached for his open communicator.
A plainclothesman Manz didn’t recognize drove them back toward the city proper. Though his expression was less cadaverous than those of his predecessors, he kept equally to himself.
Instead of locking into a commuter tunnel, the sleek vehicle dipped out of the parking structure onto a side street, the driver directing it manually. Hafas wanted to talk, and Manz was in no hurry.
