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anyway. But damn it, I m tired. Alvar Kresh reached up to rub the bridge of
his nose. Tomorrow, he said. I ll talk to him tomorrow. But see to it the
guard robots keep Anshaw away from her until then.
Yes, sir. I have relayed the order over hyperwave.
Good. Very good. Then let s go home.
Sir, excuse me, but I fear you have neglected a vital point, Donald said.
Am I not right in asking if I should issue orders to apprehend this robot
Caliban?
Alvar Kresh shook his head and sighed. You re right and you re wrong,
Donald. It s risky to wait--but it could be just as risky to go out after him
now. Think about it--if this is some bizarre Settler plot, clearly the point
of it is to sow panic, throw a good scare into us. Surely, if that is the
case, the plotters stand ready to exploit that panic, perhaps by staging
something even more frightening than a robot committing arson. No matter ~hat
we do, the search for Caliban is bound to become public knowledge. Can you
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imagine the panic if word of a rogue got out--and a skilled conspirator set to
work to build that fear?
It would be terrible, sir. And I might add that the very news of a robot
behaving as Caliban has--well, it would be likely to cause permanent
dysfunction in many, many robots. Still, the danger to humans that Caliban
represents--
Must be weighed against the danger of moving too soon. If we start out now,
with the information we have, what are we going to do? Arrest all the tall red
robots? Or why stop there? Maybe our friend Caliban can disguise himself by
slapping on a fresh coat of paint, or by exchanging his long arms and legs for
short ones.
With the result that all robots will be distrusted. Which would be the
intended result of a Settler plot. If the plot exists. Yes, sir, I see the
difficulty.
It s about all I can see at this point, Kresh said, feeling very much like a
tired old man. But we can t move on this Caliban robot until we have more
data. We can t do a search of the entire city. We need better information. But
let us be ready if things break quickly. Relay an order for increased
rapid-response air patrols. If we get lucky and spot him somewhere, I want a
deputy on top of him within two minutes.
Very well, sir. That will no doubt be sufficient to-- Suddenly
Donald s head cocked to one side, as if he were listening to something only he
could hear--and that was not far from the truth. Kresh was familiar with the
mannerism. Donald s on-board communications system was receiving a message.
Who s calling, Donald? Alvar asked.
One moment, sir. It is a timelock-secured message. I will have to wait for
the synchronization burst to decode it. One moment. Ah, there it is. You are
ordered to meet with the Governor tomorrow morning, first thing, seven hours
from now.
Kresh groaned. Devil take it all. The man s politics are bad enough.
Does he have to get up at insane hours as well?
But there was no real response to that question, and Donald offered none. At
last Alvar Kresh sighed and rubbed his eyes. Home, Donald, he said.
I want to see that damned lecture before I see the Governor. I ve had it up
to here with knowing less than everyone else.
THEY D only let me in, Fredda. Not Gubber. The police robots won t let him in
until the Sheriff has--
Oh, be quiet, Jomaine. I know the law. My head hurts enough as it is.
Fredda Leving leaned her head back against her pillow and shut her eyes. The
throbbing was getting worse. But she could not take anything for it. Not yet.
Not yet. She would have to be sharp, be careful, even with Jomaine. Especially
with Jomaine. First, she had to take precautions against being monitored. It
had been pointless before when there was a police robot in the room, but it
was vital now. She would have to phrase the order carefully if it was to do
any good.
She cleared her throat and spoke. I order all robots in the room or
monitoring this room in any way to forget all conversation that takes place
between the time of this order and the next time I clap my hands three times
within a period of five seconds. To remember any such conversation, or to
report it, would almost certainly cause me harm. That ought to do it, unless
the police had an actual human operative listening in on some hidden
microphone, or a nonrobotic recording system working. But those possibilities
were absurdly remote. Spacers used robots for everything.
Which was, of course, the entire problem.
She turned toward Jomaine. All right, I think we can talk now. Sit down and
tell me what you know.
Jomaine Terach did as he was told, but it didn t take long for him to report
the little that he was privy to. Not his fault, not really. Fredda had quite
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deliberately kept him in the dark, for everyone s sake. He couldn t tell what
he didn t know--a fact that, in balance, was very much to her advantage at the
moment. Gubber was enough of a risk. A well-informed Jomaine in Kresh s hands
was a thought not to be contemplated. Still, he could at least serve to fill
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