The Gabble

‘Already been done,’ he said.

‘What, Merril’s hack-and-slash job?’

‘Yes, and Merril better keep her head down or she’ll get a hack-and-slash job in return.’

‘Really?’

‘Really.’

The new Polity Embassy sprawled across twenty hectares of reclaimed marshland on the south side of Siroc, which was the capital city of the planet’s main continent. At the centre of the complex rested a replica of the Millennium Dome of old London on Earth — an ironical architectural statement if ever there was one. The monitor driving one of the first antigravity cars to be used here remained reticent on the subjects of Garp and Geronamid. Salind became insistent.

‘You know that criminal actions here are out of your jurisdiction for the moment. I had a nice police officer explaining that sort of thing to me only a few hours ago. So why did you people grab him?’ he asked.

‘As I have already told you, Mr Salind, I do not possess that information,’ she replied.

Salind sat back as the car began to spiral down into the complex. ‘Perhaps you can tell me who Garp killed?’

‘An acrobat, I believe.’ As she said this she touched her finger just below her ear — an unconscious action of someone listening to a comlink. She continued, ‘Geronamid will see you.

Perhaps he will explain.’

Salind grinned. There were thousands of reporters on Banjer who would have killed for this opportunity.

The monitor landed the car on a plascrete parking area and, after they disembarked, led the way toward a nearby building bearing the appearance of a Turkish mosque. One of the grey metal Golem came out to meet them.

‘This Golem will take you to the Arbiter.’ The monitor hurried off with her finger pressed below her ear. Salind studied the Golem. It had not been referred to by name, which probably meant it was a blank Golem being run by one of Geronamid’s sub-programs. And close to it now, he realized it did appear corroded. Ceramal did not oxidize in air, so this must have been caused by a powerful acid or some kind of energy burst. He wondered it this was just for the look or the result of some ambassadorial cock-up. Salind queried Argus and received an immediate reply, but he put that on hold.

‘This way,’ said the Golem.

‘Why the appearance?’ Salind asked, as they entered the building.

‘All part of Geronamid’s implicit message,’ it said.

‘Which part?’

The Golem paused before replying. ‘Membership of the Polity comes with all its advantages and drawbacks. All its AIs in every form. He would not want people to protest that the Polity had been mis-sold.’

‘Wouldn’t a less threatening appearance have been better?’

‘Exactly the point,’ said the Golem.

Salind listened to the message from Argus:

The two Golem androids that accompany Geronamid when the AI is on Arbitration duty owe their appearance to a Separatist attack on the world Cheyne III. An assassin attempted to kill Geronamid who, at that time, travelled inside an Egyptian sarcophagus. When the attack failed the assassin keyed her weapon to self- destruct. The two Golem were caught in the backflash.

After entering the mosque through an open arch, they traversed a marble hall to reach a wooden door the Golem opened by hand. In the antechamber beyond, an armoured ship droid hovered a couple of metres above the floor. Salind felt a tingling sensation run from the top of his head to his feet. There came a discordant buzzing from Argus.

‘Clear,’ spat the droid, and moved aside.

What was that?

Weapons scan.

‘You will note,’ said the Golem, ‘very in-your-face.’

A second door admitted them to the repro interior of a mosque. Garp was sitting on a wooden chair with his arms crossed, a cable trailing across the floor from the sockets in his head. His eyes were the same as they had appeared in the arrivals lounge, but Salind had no idea what that meant. Geronamid stood off to one side finishing his lunch, which looked like half a wildebeest. Salind started to sweat as the Golem closed the door behind him, not because of the crunching gobbling sounds, but because he had just discovered his aug’s external link was being blocked.

‘Why aren’t you allowing me a direct link to Tarjen?’ he asked.

Geronamid gulped down a large dripping lump of flesh. A disembodied voice replied, ‘You may record, and you will be allowed to transmit that recording once you leave here, should that be what you wish to do.’

Salind tried to locate the source of the voice then quickly gave up. Geronamid was speaking and he needed to know no more than that.

‘Okay. .’ He nodded towards Garp. ‘What are you doing to him?’

‘Downloading information to my evidential submind,’ Geronamid replied.

‘Inadmissible evidence in a Banjer court and irrelevant after the Polity amnesty comes into effect, so why are you doing it?’