Pamir said, 'An introduction,' with a flat, unaffected voice. And through a string of secret nexuses, he brought his security systems up to full alert.
'She wishes to meet you.'
'Why?'
'Because she finds you fascinating, of course.'
'Am I?'
'Oh, yes. Everyone here believes you are most intriguing.' The flexible face spread wide as the mouth grinned, never-used white teeth shining in the last light. 'But then again, we are an easily fascinated lot. What is the meaning of existence? What is the purpose of death? Where does slavery end and helplessness begin? And what kind of man lives down the path from my front door? I know his name, and I know nothing.'
'Who's this woman?' Pamir snapped.
The machine refused to answer him directly. 'I explained to her what I knew about you. What I positively knew, and what I could surmise. And while I was speaking, it occurred to me that after all of these nanoseconds of close proximity, you and I remain strangers.'
The surrounding landscape was unremarkable. Scans told Pamir that every face was known, and the nexus traffic was utterly ordinary, and when he extended his search, nothing was worth the smallest concern. Which made him uneasy. Every long look should find something suspicious.
'The woman admires you.'
'Does she?'
'Without question.' The false body was narrow and quite tall, dressed in a simple cream-colored robe. Four spidery arms emerged from under the folds of fabric, extending and then collapsing across the illusionary chest. 'Human emotions are not my strength. But from what she says and what she does not say, I believe she has desired you for a very long time.'
The llano vibra were falling silent now.
Night was moments away.
'All right,' Pamir said. He stood, boots planting themselves on the hard pale granite. 'No offense meant here. But why the hell would she hire you?'
'She is a shy lady,' the machine offered. And then he laughed, deeply amused by his own joke. 'No, no. She is not at all shy. In fact, she is a very important soul. Perhaps this is why she demands an intermediary.'
'Important how?'
'In all ways,' his neighbor professed. Then with a genuine envy, he added, 'You should feel honored by her attentions.'
A second array of security sensors was waiting. Pamir had never used them, and they were so deeply hidden no one could have noticed their presence. But they needed critical seconds to emerge from their slumber, and another half-second to calibrate and link together. And then, just as the first of three warning flashes rippled along the mirrored ceiling, what should have been obvious finally showed itself to him.
'You're not just my neighbor,' he told the rubber face.
A second flash passed overhead. Then he saw the shielded cap-car hovering nearby, a platoon of soldiers nestled in its belly.
'Who else stands in that body?' Pamir barked.
'I shall show you,' the machine replied. Then two of the arms fell away, and the other two reached up, a violent jerk peeling back the rubber mask and the grit-sized brain, plus the elaborate shielding. A face lay behind the face. It was narrow, and in a fashion lovely, and it was austere, and it was allowing itself a knife-like smile as a new voice said to this mysterious man:
'Invite me inside your home.'
'Why should I?' he countered, expecting some kind of murderous threat.
But instead of threatening, Miocene said simply, 'Because I would like your help. In a small matter that must remain -I will warn you -our little secret.'
Leading an army of captains was the Master Captain, and next in command was her loyal and infamous First Chair. Miocene was the second most powerful creature in this spectacular realm. She was tough and brutal, conniving and cold. And of all the impossible crap to happen, this was the worst. Pamir watched his guest peel away the last of her elaborate disguise. The AI was propped outside, set into a diagnostic mode. The soldiers remained hidden by the new darkness and their old tricks. It was just the two of them inside the apartment, which made no sense. If Miocene knew who he was, she would have simply told her soldiers to catch him and abuse him and then drag him to the ship's brig.
So she didn't know who he was.
Maybe.
The First Chair had a sharp face and black hair allowed to go a little white, and her body was tall and lanky and ageless and absolutely poised. She wore a simple uniform, mirrored in the fashion of all captains and decorated with a minimum of epaulets. For a long moment, she stared into the depths of Pamir's home. Watching for something? No, just having a conversation through a nexus. Then she closed off every link with the outer world, and turning toward her host, she used his present name.
Pamir nodded.
She used his last name.
Again, he nodded.
And then with a question mark riding the end of it, she offered a third name.
He said, 'Maybe.'
'It was or wasn't you?'
'Maybe,' he said again.
She seemed amused. And then, there was nothing funny about any of this. The smile tightened, the mouth nearly vanishing. 'I could look farther back in time,' she allowed. 'Perhaps I could dig up the moment when you left your original identity behind.'
'Be my guest.'
'I am your guest, so you are safe.' She was taller than Pamir by a long measure - an artifact of his disguise. She moved closer to the wayward captain, remarking, 'Your origins don't interest me.'
'Well then,' he began.
And with a wink, he added, 'So is it true, madam? Are you really in love with me?'
She laughed abruptly, harshly. Stepping away from him, she again regarded the apartment, this time studying its furnishings and little decorations. He had a modest home -a single room barely a hundred meters deep and twenty wide, the walls paneled with living wood and the ceiling showing the ruddy evening sky of a random world. With a calm voice, she announced, 'I adore your talents, whoever you are.'
'My talents?'
'With the aliens.'
He said nothing.
'That mess with the harum-scarums… you found an elegant solution to a difficult problem. You couldn't know it at the time, but you helped the ship and my Master, and by consequence, you've earned my thanks.'
'What do you wish from me tonight, madam?'
'Tonight? Nothing. But tomorrow-early in the morning, I would hope-you will please apply your talents to a small matter. A relatively simple business, we can hope. Are you familiar with the J'Jal?'
Pamir held tight to his expression, his stance. Yet he couldn't help but feel a hard kick to his heart, a well- trained paranoia screaming, 'Run! Now!'
'I have some experience with that species,' he allowed. 'Yes, madam.'
'I am glad to hear it,' said Miocene.
As a fugitive, Pamir had lived among the J'Jal on two separate occasions. Obviously, the First Chair knew much more about his past. The pressing question was if she knew only about his life five faces ago, or if she had seen back sixty-three faces - perilously close to the day when he permanently removed his captain's uniform.
