Don’t we?
Moses eyed the dragging leg. “Is it bad?”
“Not particularly, but the constant pressure isn’t helping it any, and it’s definitely slowing us down. You’d better carry me.”
“I’ve never done that before. I don’t know if I ought …”
“This is a good time to experiment. It’s a bad time to hesitate.” As he concluded, another explosive shell sculpted a section of wall just behind them. “See?”
“Very well. But don’t expect comfort.”
“Efficiency will do nicely.” Placing one arm around the humaniform’s thick torso, he took a little hop off his good leg and swung himself up and around, wrapping his other arm around the base of the mechanical’s head and locking his fingers. Two powerful tentacles immediately curled beneath him to provide additional support.
With his internal gyros compensating neatly, Moses balanced the load as he accelerated down the serviceway. The shouts that had been increasing in volume behind them now began to diminish. Drawing additional power, the Minder maintained its position above the adjuster’s shoulder. After tonight the hover system would need a full recharge as soon as the opportunity presented itself, Manz knew.
“This is very undignified,” the mechanical complained as they banked around a corner.
Manz felt confident enough to whang it on the smooth, curving head with one hand. “Shut up and watch out for pedestrians. Also slippery spots. You know, this is kind of fun. Reminds me of when I was a kid.” With pursuit falling far behind them, he allowed himself a grin.
Moses twisted slightly to glare emotionlessly at him. “This is difficult enough for me as it is. If you let out so much as a single ‘Giddyap, horsey!’ embedded directives or no, I’ll dump you in the first refuse receptacle we pass.”
Manz chuckled. “All right, calm down. I didn’t realize mechanicals were so easily offended.”
“It’s my programming,” his inorganic steed replied. “I’m sensitive.”
The adjuster chanced a look back over a shoulder. Far away, a laser sliced the night in the wrong direction. “Actually, I was thinking more along the lines of ‘Hi-yo, Silver, away!’”
“You spend too much time studying the past.” The humaniform chided him as it negotiated a pedestrian ramp. They were nearing the commercial district now, with its wide streets and useful nocturnal witnesses.
“All the better to reconstruct it.” Manz dug at something in his right eye. “Works of art, pieces of history.”
“Weapons of destruction, instruments of death.”
“I sense we have a difference of opinion here. Fortunately yours doesn’t matter.”
“Then you will of course ignore me. And I will ignore you.” Slowing down, the mechanical made as if to dump him on the street.
“Okay, okay! We’ll discuss it further, but some other time.”
“That is agreeable,” replied the humaniform with what Manz was convinced was an air of electronic smugness. It resumed speed.
“Keep your scanners on the road,” Manz admonished his argumentative mount. “Watch out for cattle crossings. Avoid hospital zones. And no U-turns.”
Moses analyzed these insructions carefully and determined that a cogent response was in no wise necessarily required.
XI
Hafas’s office was situated on the eleventh floor of the recently renovated municipal administrative complex. It was an astonishingly busy place, full of people and mechanicals embarked in frantic haste for destinations of no especial note.
Having been briefly subjected to the early morning heat and humidity (Weather Control had forecast a high of thirty-seven), exposure to so much relentlessly purposeful activity soon had Manz perspiring psychosomatically, despite the steady thrum of the building’s energetic air conditioning.
He felt gingerly of the burn on the right side of his face. He’d treated it with a topical, and Moses had assured him it was barely visible. He hoped so. It would be awkward to have to explain.
The responses to his inquiries directed him to a blue color-coded cubicle located at the end of a long row of narrow alcoves. Spacious it wasn’t, but it was, as Hafas explained, all his. There was enough room for the inspector, his workstay and equipment, and a couple of chairs. Moses managed to squeeze into an unoccupied corner. Composite baffling muted the exterior sound.
If Hafas was surprised to see them so early in the morning, he concealed it behind his familiar veil of paternal affability.
“Morning, gentleman and humaniform. Have a seat.”
“Not permanently.” An exhausted Manz flopped into one of the chairs. “But I’ll borrow this one for a bit.”
The inspector glanced briefly at the entrance. “Not that I’m not pleased to see you too, but you’ll understand if I inquire as to the whereabouts of Ms. Kullervo.”
“Be unnatural if you didn’t.” Manz arranged himself more comfortably. “She’s sleeping off a potent intoxicant. Had an extended encounter with a Qaraca in the hotel restaurant last night.”
“You don’t say. She didn’t strike me as the type. More self-possessed, you know.” He frowned uncertainly. “I don’t know that I’ve ever tried that particular drink. Is it made with rum?”
“Not to my knowledge. I don’t think you would’ve cared for it. Too much of a kick for me.”
“Oh. One of those exotic offworld concoctions, hmm?”
“Exactly.” The Minder hovered silently above his shoulder.
Hafas’s expression turned serious. “Not that I wouldn’t enjoy a casual chat, but I have this feeling you’re not here this early for the pleasure of my company. I’m afraid I don’t have anything for you, Manz. Nothing new on the jackings, but we think we’re making some progress on the murders of those two officers at the Port. Oh, and there was something interesting on the general Call Sheet this morning.”
“We’re all ears,” said Moses.
Manz smiled apologetically. “I had nothing to do with his interactive humor programming, I swear.”
