“I see,” Kresh said, though he definitely did not. “Thank you, Agent Wylot.” He handed the phone back to Donald and looked to Welton. “Those weren’t SSS agents who picked up Deam and Blare,” he said. “Impostors, it would appear.”
“What?” Welton said. “Why in the devil would anyone pose as SSS agents?”
“To extract their men before we could ask any questions, presumably.”
“But why?”
Kresh smiled coldly. “As we can’t ask any questions, we don’t know, do we? How about it, Donald? Do you have anything?”
“Sir, I have used a hyperwave link back to headquarters and run an ID check on the names and images of the two men involved in the—incident,” Donald said. “They do not appear on any of our Ironhead watch lists. Indeed, they are not listed in any database of residents of, or visitors to, this planet. They are on no list to which I have access.”
“So who the hell were they?”
“I have no idea, sir. They are either off-worlders or locals operating under elaborate disguise, or Infernal residents who have either never been registered or have found some way of altering or expunging their records. Sir, if I may pose yet another question,” Donald said. “Where was the SSS during the attack? Surely they should have been able to get to the scene faster than they did.”
The agent on the phone had an explanation for that, but Donald could not know what it was from hearing Kresh’s side of the conversation. Nor could Welton, for that matter. It might be worth hearing her version. “Madame Welton? They’re your agents. Can you tell us that much, at least?”
“What the hell are you trying to accuse me of?” Welton snapped. “Staging an attack on myself?”
It’s an interesting possibility, Kresh thought. But I’ll worry about that later. Besides, if you did have it staged, you’ll have a plausible explanation for why your people never showed up. “Furthest thing from my mind,” Kresh lied smoothly. “But you are the senior Settler present. Perhaps your Security Service agents were ordered to some other duty for some reason.”
Welton shook her head. “Not to my knowledge. I checked the deployment plan four hours ago, and there were supposed to be six agents based at the front door.”
“There were indeed six SSS agents on duty when Prospero and I arrived,” Caliban said.
Kresh ignored that as well. “Did you know of any arrangement to withdraw them or redeploy then?” he asked, still addressing Welton.
“No, but there’s no particular reason why I would. I don’t keep track of where every Settler on the planet is. My staff has more sense than to bother me with such trivia.”
“Trivia? That’s just the problem,” Kresh said. “Why in the devil would anyone bother with such an elaborate scheme to extract two barroom brawlers from the scene of a trivial offense? It had to be riskier than leaving Deam and Blare to face charges.”
“It is a rather cumbersome way of doing business,” Tonya Welton agreed. “But there’s another odd feature— it makes it look very much like the whole thing was planned.”
Kresh nodded. “You’re right,” he said. “The phony SSS agents came in right on cue.”
“Begging your pardon, sir,” Donald said, “but there is a rather clear inference to be drawn. As the effort involved was too great to justify the minor attack on Madame Welton, it seems to me that the attack on her was part of some larger operation. The attack was a diversion.”
“Hell! You’re right, Donald,” Kresh said. “And it’s worked beautifully.”
“But what?” Tonya Welton asked. “Diverted you from what?”
“It’s like the questions we can’t ask the men that aren’t here,” Kresh said. “We don’t know precisely because it worked.”
He stood up and shook his head. “One thing I do know. Donald and I were on our way to have a little chat with the Governor on the subject of security before all this happened. I don’t think we’d best delay it any longer.” Sheriff Kresh nodded to the leader of the Settlers and left the room, followed by Donald.
Kresh was halfway down the hallway before something else very strange occurred to him. He stopped for a moment to think it through. Caliban and Prospero. They were neither of them bound to prevent harm to humans. Caliban had no Laws at all, while Prospero’s First Law was modified. He was enjoined against doing harm to humans—but there was nothing that forced him to prevent harm. Once he had left the scene of the fight, Kresh hadn’t thought about it, any more than he would have been surprised to find that the rain made him wet. After all, it was part of the natural order of things for robots to break up fights.
“Donald,” he said. “You seemed unconcerned to see Prospero and Caliban restraining the combatants, yet you knew neither of them was possessed of the full First Law. Weren’t you at all concerned?”
“No, sir, I was not. My dealings with New Law beings have been rather limited, and I have but rarely encountered Caliban. However, I have thought a great deal on the question of how to predict the behavior of sentient non-humans that do not have the Three Laws.”
“ ‘Sentient nonhumans that do not have the Three Laws.’ That’s a mouthful.”
“I do not feel it appropriate to refer to beings such as Caliban and Prospero as robots,” Donald replied.
Kresh couldn’t help but be amused by Donald’s hairsplitting, but he did have a point. “How about calling them ‘pseudo-robots’ instead?”
“That does seem less cumbersome. In any event, I concluded some time ago that the best way to deal with such pseudo-robots is to assume they will react in the same way as a rational human being would—with a basis of self-interest, and with a certain limited amount of altruism. Once the two pseudo-robots had restrained the combatants, I had no reason to fear for the humans at their hands, any more than I would have feared them being attacked by two humans acting to restrain them.”
“But why did they do it?” Kresh asked. “They were under no compulsion to act.”
“As I said, sir, enlightened self-interest. To put it somewhat crudely, by acting to protect human beings, they made themselves look good.”
“Donald, I am surprised. I never suspected you of cynicism.”
“It would depend on the subject under discussion,” Donald said, a bit primly. “On the question of beings who pretend to be human for gain, I think you will find me to be nothing if not suspicious. Shall we go talk with the Governor?”
“By all means,” Kresh said, working hard to hide a smile from Donald.
Tonya Welton watched the Sheriff and Donald leave, then got up from her seat and smiled at Caliban and Prospero. “I have not had a chance to thank both of you properly,” she said. “I fear I wasn’t very gracious about your restraining me, Caliban, but you were quite right to do so. Things could have been much worse.”
“I am pleased to have been of help,” Caliban replied, feeling a bit uncertain.
“Thanks to you as well, Prospero,” she said.
“It was a pleasure to be of service,” he replied.
“I must return to the party,” Madame Welton said, “but once again, I do thank you for your assistance.”
Caliban watched as she left. Of all the humans Caliban knew, Madame Welton was perhaps the most baffling of all. She seemed to insist on treating any robot, all robots, as full-fledged human beings, even in the case of low- end units where it was patently absurd. Perhaps it was some strange principle or other that she felt obliged to uphold, but even so it was confusing. Did she treat Caliban and Prospero with respect because she felt they deserved respect? Or only because doing so annoyed the Spacers?
“Do you think we did the right thing?” Prospero asked. “Was it wise to ape the behavior of standard robots?”
“I am not sure,” Caliban said. Things were so difficult to judge. He, Caliban, was capable of things Prospero was not, and that might well prove useful in the near future. It would be wise to avoid reminding people of that. “Certainly no one could fault us for it, and certainly we could not have stood idly by—that would have looked very bad indeed. But bringing ourselves to the attention of Sheriff Kresh—if things go wrong, that could have a very high price indeed. We must tread most carefully if our plans are to succeed.”
Alvar Kresh and Donald found Chanto Grieg, Governor of the planet Inferno, standing in the shadows on the upper landing, looking down, unseen, over the room full of smiling, laughing people. “The evening is off to a good start, aside from Beddle’s entrance and the Welton incident,” Grieg said as he saw them approaching.
“Aside from those things, yes, sir,” Kresh said. “But they are a great deal to leave to one side.”
