That was all to the good.
If you will take the elevator to the ground level, arrangements have been made to have robot pilots shuttle the aircars down to the main plaza. They should be able to begin that operation in a few minutes, while it might well be a delay of up to an hour before the roof is opened again. They are headed toward the plaza. That was all to the good. Right now there was no bigger problem than a bad leak of a mildly hazardous chemical, just enough of a nuisance to make any self-respecting Three-Law robot seal off the area, shut down the elevators, hustle all the nearby humans off the roof and into the building, and generally disrupt things. But if things got organized and settled down too quickly, then Cinta was ready, willing, and able to cause a short-circuit aboard the airtruck. Her dirty-tricks people promised that the resultant fireball would be spectacular, but unlikely in the extreme to hurt anyone or cause any significant damage.
She would just as soon the official complaints did not involve fatalities. The dirty-tricks techs could promise whatever they liked, but explosions had a way of not staying controlled. Things were going to have to get very bad indeed for her to be willing to risk pressing that button. The main thing was that they had separated Lentrall from his security detail – in fact prevented them from hooking up at all. Everything ought to work. It was a reasonable, straightforward plan. But there had been so little time. Welton had moved too quickly from ordering contingency plans to ordering the snatch itself to take place immediately.
They needed to warn Valhalla.
Perhaps Fiyle was little better than a turncoat who sold himself to all and sundry, but even so, there was some whiff of honor about the man. Something in him had put limits on his petty betrayals and the buying and selling of trust. Something had put survival of the New Law robots above the lure of Trader Demand Notes. There was something to respect, even in this contemptible man. And it was, after all, that impulse to decency that had placed Norlan Fiyle in danger.
That meant Norlan Fiyle had best get out of town, and fast. And the two robots, needless to say, had their own reasons to travel. They needed to warn Valhalla. Caliban looked from Fiyle to Prospero, and then at the city itself. He bid a farewell – and not an entirely fond one – to Hades. Perhaps he would someday return to the city.
All the time closer.
Leving too, of course – once it is safe to do so. Of all humans, she at least is a woman who keeps faith. He made his way downstairs, and out into the busy, bustling street. He looked up into the sky, to the fat, bright point of light that grew larger with every passing moment.
All the time closer. There was so little time left. What was it Prospero had said? In recent days Caliban had felt himself drawn back to their cause. The more the world had no time for them, no interest in them, the more it seemed ready to let them all die if that was marginally more convenient, the more he empathized with them. It would require breaking his word to Fredda Leving. It would require doing her a small amount of harm – but surely nothing she could not recover from.
We need something that can move us forward.
It was hard to know the exact color of his eyes were, but they were gimlet hard, jewel bright. His hair was jet-black, and he wore it combed straight back. He was wearing a subdued version of his usual military-style uniform. No decoration on it for a late-evening conversation in private, none of the epaulets or braid or ribbons or insignia he had worn at the rally. Just a dull black tunic and dull black trousers of military cut. But then, understatement often proved most effective. Steel-toed, jet-black – they look as if they could kick in any door ever made. But what good is that if there is nothing for them to kick in?
If I leave them unused for long enough, people will cease to believe I can use them. The Ironheads can last on appearances for only so long. We need something that can move us forward. Robots had liberated humanity – but not completely, because there were not enough robots.
Not with a robotic pilot.
Not with a robotic pilot. The political upheaval when Grieg died. The Ironheads would probably blame the government, or Alvar personally. Unless they pinned it on the Settlers. The Ironhead movement would be up in arms, that was for sure. Marches, riots, arrests, counter-demonstrations, lunatics and perfectly sane citizens suspecting plots and conspiracies under every rock.
She could see it all, plain as day. How the devil were they supposed to contend with that and the comet impact at the same time? That is even more disturbing than it normally would be, given the political implications of the case. We have to move on this fast.
Now he knew he did not.
He switched off his mike and spoke to her. Why would anyone do that? She had said something about never really being sure about what you knew. Here it was, happening again. He had thought he knew where the comet was. Now he knew he did not.
He was simply glad he did not have to show his face. It was bad enough that Kresh could hear the panic in his voice. Davlo Lentrall paced frantically up and down in front of his comm center. There must be some way to retrieve it all. I thought the system was designed to make it impossible to lose things irretrievably. Kresh had called from – from wherever he was – just as Davlo had finally, absolutely confirmed that all was lost. It was no easy thing to talk to the planetary leader when he was at his lowest ebb.
Devray was certain he had seen that face before.
Casuals and walk-ins, as they were known in the trade. A deep-cover agent would know better than to use the front entrance, and thus risk blowing his cover. Unless there was something so urgent and important that it was worth risking all.
But terraforming was a project for the generations. It moved, of necessity, at a leisurely pace. Any given project was likely to take years to accomplish. Why go in the front door? Why not send word some other way? It was plainly impossible to shut down all forms of communication. There was always some way to pass a message in reasonable safety, provided you were willing to take a little time.
There were two robots with him.
The previous years out in the wind and weather had at least etched some character into his face, and life in the city had not erased any of it. Even so, he still looked unfashionably young, and one glance at him was enough to see he did not belong in a city. Although he felt as if he were very much on his own, Justen had company in the battered aircar. There were two robots with him. One was Gervad 112, his personal robot of some years standing. After the night when the previous governor, Chanto Grieg, was murdered with a whole squad of Sappers on guard around him, the model suddenly, and rather unfairly, had gained a bad reputation. What had happened to them could have happened to any model of robot.
Still, no major security service was willing to use them any more. The rank and file did not trust them, and would not use them. As a result, most of the Sappers had been sold off at rock-bottom prices to all sorts of slightly disreputable organizations and people. That in turn meant that a Sapper made good camouflage.
This is our promise.
Kaelor faced a moral conundrum few humans could have dealt with well. And it is my husband who must decide, Fredda told herself, the realization a sharp stab of pain. If we succeed here, I am presenting him with that nightmare choice.
She thrust that line of thought to one side. She had to concentrate on Kaelor, and the precious knowledge hidden inside him. We know that you cannot tell us, and we will not ask. It was inconceivable that Kaelor would be willing or able to tell them, or that he would survive long enough to do so, even if he tried. Lentrall looked at Fredda in surprise, and then relief. We see now that it would be futile to do so. Leving might have some trick, some technique, some way of learning the truth without destroying you, but I see that I was wrong. We will not ask this of you, and we will not seek to gain the knowledge from you in other ways.
The runcart went through the center of town and out the other side.
There were plans afoot to deploy any number of flying, orbiting, and buried sensors. Many of them would, of course, be destroyed by the impact – but even the pattern of their destruction would tell the scientists a great deal. The runcart went through the center of town and out the other side.
It slowed to a halt outside a cheerful-looking portable building, a bright orange hemisphere about ten meters high and twenty across. By the look of it, the building had not so much been erected as unfolded. Beddle looked around, and saw that the whole area was dotted with similar structures in every color of the rainbow.