Rodan's Enigma

By Wayne Austin

US Edition

Book Two of The Rodan Trilogy

Rodan Tyson is no longer alive in this universe. So says Aldar, the weird robot with a curious desire to molest any human he can get his manipulators on. And so begins a year to forget as Wandar Kryzansky’s life spirals out of control. With Anil’s loss at the hands of Sandra Mandora, she fights against madness as she seeks her revenge.

And what about Rodan’s best friend, that odd genius, Robert Burton? Why does he have to keep saving her
life?

And why has he come to Kharwaisheeyarrn? Is it to extract the ultimate revenge on the h’Slaitiarr for Rodan’s death, as Wil Alvaro fears? Or is it to resurrect Rodan?

Except Rodan is alive and she must take Rob Burton and Mandora’s head to Arcadus to find out why he is a psychopath running berserk. But the only one who may know the answer is Aldar.

Now, if only she can find him...

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Feb 23, 2023
• ISBN: 9781447829362

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

Sifour’s image popped up to float before Wandar and, amidst a backdrop of soft shrieks and whistles, muted red and yellow swirls flowed along the sides of the h’Slaitiarr’s dark, bluish-gray body. Its global interpreter translated. Greetings, Wandar Kryzansky. Rodan Tyson is dead.

What? She gasped and her right hand flew to her mouth. That can’t be!

Our source is reliable, Sifour continued after a short pause. We have rescued a robot from the space station’s vicinity, and it has verified that Rodan Tyson is not alive.

It is absolutely certain? Wandar asked, even though she knew the answer after seeing Sifour’s preliminary scans of the half-destroyed space station.

Anil Prasad, her husband and the remaining member of her little team, came up from behind and placed his arms around her to provide some comfort. She grasped his arms and pulled them tighter, thankful for his presence. Her last hope had been dashed. All during the flight in, she had kept her spirits up by imagining how she would greet Rodan when she arrived. First a kiss and a hug, and then she was going to thrash him to within an inch of his life for disobeying her orders and putting her through such torture. But he had disobeyed her again. And died.

Yes, Sifour’s answer came back, we have not detected the presence of any living being in or around the space station. I will await your arrival before we begin the investigation. However, the robot, Aldar, has provided a data cube with the information that the human agent, Marla Brown, stole from the Alien Research Institute.

Oh? How did he get that, Sifour? Anil asked.

Rodan Tyson retrieved it from Aisev and gave it to Aldar when the demolition of the station began.

At least he foiled the attempt to pass it on to the Human Security Studies— A lump formed in Wandar’s throat, and she swallowed as she fought back the tears. So, he bought us time to stop that battle escalating into a full-blown war, if.... No, it was no use asking Sifour how those renegade warships and their fighters had vanished. Even though it had to know, it had said it didn’t know and that was that.

That is unlikely, said Sifour. Since all were killed, the information could not have been passed on. From Aldar’s personal log and recordings from the station’s sensor logs, it seems that Rodan Tyson was more intent on gaining knowledge about his father and what happened to him during the war than on trying to stop Aisev.

Wandar twisted to glance at Anil. Why, what happened to his father? There was nothing in his background check.

There was a brief mention, said Anil. If I remember, his father died as a prisoner — not an uncommon occurrence. I didn’t bother to delve any further. Anyway, there was nothing to indicate that Rodan harbored any grievances toward the slaters, er, your race, Sifour. Though ... now I think about it, he is on the list of people banned from your planets ... oh what was it? Something about biological weapons...? He shrugged. No, I can’t remember.

Some whirls flickered blue and skidded along Sifour’s flank. We consider him a war criminal for creating the biogenetic weapons used on our home world during the war.

But he was never charged, said Wandar.

He managed to have that concession dropped from the peace treaty. It is interesting. His opponent at the negotiations was a h’Slaitiarr identified as Aisev.

Wandar stiffened as bits of the puzzle fell into place. This Aisev?

Yes. That loss brought my supergroup to power. I should be grateful to Rodan, but I cannot be. The legacy of his work pains all h’Slaitiarr to this day.

But he never said anything when he identified Aisev, said Anil.

No, he did. Wandar frowned. She had wanted to delve. Rodan had been so agitated and now she knew why. He said he vaguely remembered it from the treaty negotiations—

That’s right! He won something — a ... a concession.

I remember the look on his face, said Wandar. It was more than surprise, but he just brushed it off, saying it was nothing important. I meant to follow it up.

You will find Aldar’s logs most informing, said Sifour, and disturbing.

Why? Wandar asked.

It appears that we initiated the war against the Interstellar Alliance based on a misunderstanding — something Rodan Tyson termed a ‘joke’.

A joke? What do you mean?

It is a form of what your species calls humor. Some of us are only now starting to come to an understanding of this concept. The discussion is contained in the information I have sent you.

Very well, we’ll review it before we arrive. That should be in about....

Six hours from now, said Anil.

I look forward to beginning the investigation then. Sifour’s image vanished.

Wandar turned in Anil’s arms to face him. Hold me, she whispered and buried her face in his neck. She didn’t like feeling vulnerable, but there were times when it was good to just give in. Oh Rodan, Rodan, Rodan, she mumbled.

Anil tightened his hug and began to stroke her hair down the back of her head. It’s not your fault. You knew his chances of surviving once the slaters got hold of him. In fact, it’s amazing he survived right up to the last minute.

Wandar pulled back and scowled at him. "Don’t try to make me feel good! I’m not in the mood. Besides, I don’t feel guilty. He shouldn’t have disobeyed me. Damn him! Feeling vulnerable wasn’t working for her. She straightened up and pushed Anil away, her face once again a mask of control. But she did feel guilty, damn him! She had let herself be swayed against her better judgement and now he was dead, damn him! Stupid amateur. I want to be alone for a while," she growled and then sniffed.

Anil paused at the doorway and cocked his head when she brushed away a tear. If you need me.... His words hung in the air as the door slid shut behind him.

* * *

Events had happened so quickly, they were like a blur. Wandar stared at the magnificent panorama of the black hole that filled the wall display and failed to appreciate its majestic beauty. How could she? Rodan had died in its presence.

How unlucky was it to arrive just when both the white dwarf and its partner, a large, yellow, misshapen pear of a star, were at their closest approach? They hung like two blazing moons above the black hole, both trailing glowing streams to the warped accretion disk that hid the monster within, and because of that, the station was deserted, except for the robot. Those eighty evacuated scientists would have certainly tipped the balance in the slaters’ favor.

And Rodan would still be alive so she could extract her pound of flesh.

She sniffed and studied the accretion disk’s cloud-like whorl, like she had just noticed it for the first time. It was twisted and buckled, its surface crisscrossed with ripples and broken here and there by little eddies. All frozen, as if caught in a pause.

At any other time, she would have marveled at its deadly beauty. If anything, it reminded her of one of Rodan’s curious works of art that she had studied briefly, when his hotel suite had reconfigured to match his apartment’s living room. This natural work of art played with trickles of color as well, in the way the disk’s outer edge merged from the blackness of space as a faint, wan red, which faded through a soft wan tan, before deepening to an intense dark blue around the miniscule eye of the storm where the black hole tore off chunks to satisfy its never-ending appetite. And splattered across it, as if from a rainbow palette of raindrops, were bright glowing hotspots, which peeked through from within.

She sighed, then shook her head and sucked in her upper lip. So many bad memories.

The space station slid into view, silhouetted against the accretion disk’s soft glow. Here the dirty deed had been done, and by fellow humans — traitors who deserved no mercy. She bit on her lip until she winced.

They had been most thorough. Of the two intersecting rings, half of one floated beside the station as debris, while a great bite had been taken out of the other ring. And something had feasted on the control sphere at the center point of the connecting tube that ran between the diametrically opposite connecting points of the two rings. It was in part of the missing ring that Rodan had died, as had the woman, Marla Brown.

Wandar hugged herself and sighed to stop crying. She was being foolish — and weak. It wasn’t her fault.

Pity those aliens couldn’t have rescued Rodan and returned him to her. After all, they had taken the renegade ships. Anil’s analysis of the sensor vids showed how the black circles in the cosmic ray background noise had appeared, just before those interstellar ships and all their fighters had disappeared, and then vanished straight after. And despite this evidence, Sifour still denied all knowledge of any alien species, apart from humans.

Talk about a twisted universe. Out of the blue, Sifour had introduced her to another h’Slaitiarr, which spoke on behalf of the h’Slaitiarr government — a most unusual h’Slaitiarr. Sifour referred to it only as Master. Wandar thought she knew of all senior h’Slaitiarr in the government on Kharwaisheeyarrn, but not this one.

She tried to massage away the frown from her forehead. There was so much to take in. Too much.

The station’s ramparts stopped growing and she felt lighter on her feet as the deceleration began to decrease. Her frown deepened and she gave up trying to get rid of it. All that was left was the investigation. Then she could go home and put this whole sorry mess behind her.

This Master, there was something disconcerting about it. In some ways it seemed almost human, at least in the way it interacted with Anil and herself. At times, it seemed friendly — almost jovial in the way that it humored both of them — even Sifour — like they were children. And that was the odd thing. The h’Slaitiarr had no concept of humor, so this h’Slaitiarr must have acted that way without realizing it.

Perhaps it was a quirk of the global interpreter.

Wandar shrugged and dismissed a nagging feeling that there was more to this h’Slaitiarr than met the eye. After all, it had brought an offer from the h’Slaitiarr government to negotiate a mutual obligation treaty with the Interstellar Alliance in the hope of eliminating any possibility of such a threat arising again. This Master even hinted at possible concessions with regard to that exotic shielding used on their warships — weird. If she didn’t know better, she could have sworn it wasn’t a h’Slaitiarr.

Now that was a twisted thought. It made her smile.

Her door chimed. Yes?

It slid open and Anil floated in. Are you ready?

If we have to, we have to. She sighed, not relishing the next few days.

I’ve knocked up a report on that robot’s logs—

Yes, yes, I know!

Now, now, Anil cajoled her, there’s no point in being like that. I was just going to suggest we send a report so Candace can notify his family and friends, you know, Robert Burton. He cocked his eyebrows. Unless you want to tell him in person. The comm ship’s next transfer is in ten minutes.

Wandar frowned at this reminder of the one thorn in her side and decided against it with a shake of her head. The last time they had spoken, after she had arranged for him to remain in jail before being extradited back to Earth from Ambrosia, they hadn’t parted on good terms to say the least. No, she didn’t need to confront him to remind her that she had failed her promise to him as well. Let someone else let him down.

She floated into Anil’s arms and pecked him on the lips. Sorry — you’re right. I’m acting stupid. Yes, send the report, but ask Candace to find someone to inform Burton. Do I need to sign it? He nodded. Okay, give me a minute, yes?

Anil kissed her forehead. Yes, boss. Let’s get this over with and go home. He let go and floated toward the door. One minute! he warned and winked.

So, you want a little punishment? Wandar called after him, pretending at trying to keep a laugh out of her stern voice. "I can arrange that. You will be sorry!"

The door swished shut, cutting off Anil’s chuckle. And her tension broke. That was what she loved about Anil, his ability to raise her spirits — and his willingness to be tied down and spanked, and whipped, and to suffer what else she could think of. No wonder she loved him. Twisted universe or not, he was her point of stability.

She broke into a melancholic smile.

CHAPTER 2

There is a call for you, Oh Brilliant One, Percy announced.

Damn! Rob Burton muttered under his breath. "What is wrong with her?"

It is Yolanda Molenaar again.

"That’s the fifth time this morning. Why doesn’t she give up? Same answer as before, Percy, he ordered his virtual assistant, and tell her to stop pestering me, it’ll do her no good. I won’t be her guinea pig."

She has asked me to tell you that her call has nothing to do with her research.

"And she expects me to believe that? After everything she’s tried? Tell her she’s out of luck. She’s dealing with a certified genius. Stupid woman — don’t tell her that."

I’m sorry, Oh Brilliant One, but she insists. She has something very personal to tell you and she can only do it face to face— Percy paused for a moment. She is begging you to answer ... you have to answer, and she will keep calling for as long as it takes. I believe she is crying.

Really? I know Yolanda’s pushy, but childish tantrums? This I have to see. Very well, Percy, I’ll accept her call. Rob pulled himself up straight and put on a stern face ready to give Yolanda the dressing-down she deserved.

Unusually, her full-body projection popped up before him. Normally, people only bothered displaying their heads. Although she was a first-juver, she stood almost as tall as he was, statuesque, and with black hair hanging down, newbie-style, to her waist. Her almond-shaped eyes stared earnestly into his. Rob rolled his eyes. What Rodan ever saw in her, he didn’t know.

She wore a tight-fitting, one-piece template covered with a boring live scene from a forest. Probably somewhere in northern Europe, Germany more than likely, given the early morning feel to the lighting. A shaft of sunlight pierced the high cloud cover and penetrated the leafless trees to the forest floor and a small deer wandered across the scene from right to left, its delicate steps making a soft, scratching sound in the leaf litter. Call that art? It was a travesty. Why, there was more art in the nothingness of his Nothing than in the mere display of real life.

Rob sniffed and screwed up his nose. A bit early to be dressing up, or have you just got home? He paused, frowning, and peered at her puffy face. "You have been crying!"

Please, Rob, Yolanda snuffled, wiping her eyes, this is hard enough as it is — oh, I must look a mess. I didn’t want you to see me like this, but you wouldn’t answer.

That’s because you only ever call me for one thing. Rob’s terse voice softened a touch. I mean — what d’you expect? It’s very annoying. If this is a new tactic, it’s—

Rob! For a moment she stared at him with great pity. Her lower lip trembled. I have something to — oh, I don’t know how to put this. Its Rodan, he’s....

Rob arched his eyebrows. It’s those damned slaters, isn’t it? I knew that Kryzansky was hopeless—!

"Rob! I have bad news."

Huh? Rob peered at her, frowning as he tried to make sense of her words. What? They won’t release him?

Yolanda dithered for a moment and then shrugged her shoulders. He’s ... dead.

Rob blinked and pulled back. What? he managed to utter in a small voice.

I’m sorry. Rodan is dead — apparently about two weeks ago. I ... I don’t know how to put it any other way. I’m sorry, Rob, I truly am. I would have come over and told you personally, but I know how ... you feel about me — Rob?

Without showing any consideration, Rob half-walked, half-stumbled through her three-D image. It was rude. In the extreme, but his body had acted of its own accord. This was a sick joke. Had to be. And yet he could hear himself muttering, arguing with himself as if he was both in his body and also a separate third person listening in. Curious.

No, that can’t be, his voice decided out loud. "Kryzansky promised me!"

Yolanda turned to face him as he wheeled around. Are you alright? Why she looked so concerned he couldn’t figure. He was fine. Numb, if anything. Cocooned.

She offered up a hand, an olive branch, but though he wanted to wave it away, his voice couldn’t answer. Instead, the other two kept muttering between themselves and refused to share his brain with him. They kept arguing, which was stupid. There was nothing to argue about. Someone had got it wrong. Rodan dead? Ridiculous! Rodan didn’t take stupid risks with his life. That was what he did.

Except Rodan had. And he had been shot. And kidnapped. By Aisev of all slaters! Rob had tried his best, but he had been blocked at every step by that Kryzansky.

I — I’ll make arrangements for a memorial, Yolanda continued. When his remains are returned.

Rob latched onto a thought and snapped his fingers as he recovered his brain. He broke into a fierce grin. It’s a clone! He said something about clones — that’s why he went to see you! The people he was after tried to fake their deaths with clones. They must have done the same thing for him. I bet he’s locked away right now, in a secret prison or something. Yes, that’s it!

I doubt it, Yolanda said in a flat voice, they wouldn’t have had time to grow a clone — we only saw him about two months ago. Her eyes glistened and she dabbed at them before the moistness could coalesce into tears. Besides, they told me he was a prisoner of the slaters ... so I’m fairly certain the remains will be his. Anyway, I’ll test them just in case, I promise.

Sure, sure, Rob muttered to himself, dismissing her. Do whatever you like. Of course, he was right, and his theory was too perfect to need a trifling thing like proof.

Yolanda hesitated. Are you okay? Is there someone I can contact — family perhaps — who can come over for a while? I can see this has been a great shock to you. I ... I don’t think you should be alone. Just for a few days. Is there anyone?

No, I’m okay, really, he mumbled as that strange cocooning feeling enveloped him once again in its numbing embrace. I’m fine ... now, I have work to do. Thanks for the call, but they’re wrong. You’ll see! Rob closed the call before Yolanda had a chance to say anything else. It was rude, but he didn’t care. Rodan, his best friend, his only friend, dead? Preposterous! They had to be wrong. They were wrong. There was no doubt about it, none whatsoever.

For a long time, he stood in the middle of the room. At last, his body began to move about. He made lunch; he tidied up; he rearranged small items; he did countless, pointless, small things. They’re wrong, all wrong, he muttered over and over, trying to convince the dark shadow that had joined him in his mind.

* * *

Rob, I— Yolanda blinked. The interior of Rob’s chalet had disappeared, leaving her standing in her study. Something about his words worried her. She had expected denial — even she found it hard to accept that Rodan was dead — and anger directed at her, but Rob seemed to withdraw from the world.

She sucked in her lower lip and tried to call him again. No response. Not even from Percy, his virtual assistant. Maybe she should give him some time to let it sink in. It had taken her a while and she still hadn’t come to terms with it. And Rob was so fragile. For a few seconds she dithered, rubbing her lips. Should she, or shouldn’t she?

Thor, call Rob Burton again and insist I speak to him.

I cannot make any contact, Thor’s voice boomed out.

Yolanda grimaced. Rob had cut himself off from the world for the time being and there was no telling when he would surface, if at all — or what he would do. He needed help. She sucked in a deep breath and straightened. Well, she would help him whether he liked it or not. And she knew just who to turn to — a certain head of the School of Structural Psychology at the University of Buenos Aires.

Thor, get me Wil Alvaro.

Her study vanished and she stood before an ancient mahogany desk that took pride of place in the expansive office. Despite the wanton extravagance of space, the paucity of furniture helped focus any visitor’s attention on the first-juver seated behind the desk. She stared at Wil and tried to shake off the unsettling feeling it always gave her whenever she called or visited. It made her feel so small. Unimportant. Given his successful career, she always found it curious how Wil needed to stroke his ego in this manner.

He looked up from the journal floating before him and an effusive smile broke out on his wide, generous mouth, lighting up the soulful eyes in his dark-brown face. Yolanda! What a pleasant surprise! When are you coming down to see me?

Sorry, Wil. She offered a rueful smile, and a flicker of disappointment crossed his face, only to be replaced by caring concern. I ... I have a problem.

In that case you’ve come to the right man; I thought you looked upset when you appeared. Do you ... is it something you find difficult to talk about?

No ... no, well yes and no. I received some bad news, and.... She quirked her lips, unsure how to continue.

Then let’s start with that. Will sat back and studied her with just the right nuance of concern on his face. Is that the problem? You find it hard to cope with this news? Why don’t you relax? Try a few slow, deep breaths. Remember, I’m here to help you. He drummed his fingers on the desk but caught them mid roll before offering her an apologetic smile. Take all the time you need.

No, it’s not the bad news — I didn’t call because I need help. It’s someone else I had to notify. Oh, maybe I do need help. She looked down and pursed her mouth into a frown. And she thought she had been coping so well.

Of course, you don’t. Wil smiled and held out a placating palm that also urged her to continue. I wasn’t implying that you did — but I can tell something is worrying you and I think we need to resolve that before we can move on to your friend.

Sorry. Yolanda took a few deep breaths to calm herself and stared over Wil’s shoulder at the weary couch up against the wall behind him. He was convinced it was a genuine, Twentieth Century replica of Freud’s couch and very proud of it. She stared at its hard surface and shook her head. He still liked to use it in his consultations despite it being lumpy and uncomfortable.

I’ll start at the beginning, shall I?

I’ve always found that to be the best option. After a few seconds, Wil raised his eyebrows.

I ... I’ve just received some bad news. Yolanda paused for a moment to gather her thoughts. About my ex-husband, er, I received notification he died a few weeks ago ... in a slater space station of all places! And.... Her eyes betrayed her and went moist. She had still hoped, one day....

And you were close to him? Wil prompted. You still loved each other?

Yes — no. I loved him, but ... but he never quite loved me.

Oh.

No, it’s not that. I knew it all along ... and accepted it.

Really?

Yes. Wil’s smile tightened at the hint of irritation in her voice and Yolanda tried to soften her tone. Please, Wil, I don’t mean to be rude, but I don’t need counseling for myself, I am quite capable of dealing with my grief.

So, what did you call me about, then?

I had to notify Rodan’s — my ex-husband — I had to notify a friend of his, Rob Burton.

That name sounds familiar. Wil cocked his head and thought for a moment. Isn’t he the subject you’ve been trying to convince to join our little soiree? He looked away and stared into space. Ah yes, I’ve just called up his file.... Oh dear!

I’m afraid he didn’t handle the news too well. Yolanda looked down, unable to stop feeling guilty.

Wil’s eyes narrowed as he stared into the distance and Yolanda wondered what was in Rob’s file that was so disturbing. Yes, he said at last, I can well understand that, considering his profile.

I didn’t quite know how to handle the situation. I ... I’ve never had to tell anyone. Tears welled up in her eyes as Rodan’s death finally hit home. She had cried a little bit after she first got the news, but not enough. I mean ... I just blurted it out! I ... I wanted to break it to him gently, but how else do you say that? The tears streamed down her cheeks, and she buried her face in her hands in an attempt to stifle her sobs.

I’m afraid grief counseling is a dying art, Wil said gently. It hasn’t really been needed since the end of the war. I think you should have someone with you as well. I would come myself. He shrugged. But unfortunately, I have commitments. Is there anyone...?

Yolanda sniffed and wiped away the last of her tears. No, not really. I’m not close to anyone, and I don’t want to impose on my colleagues.

Wil sighed and nodded. "I’m afraid that’s a symptom of our times. We’ve let ourselves become isolated from each other. Emotionally, I mean. That’s one of the reasons I initiated our research project in the first place. We’re becoming less and less human — what really makes us human — as time goes by. We might be responsible, well-behaved citizens, but we’re increasingly obsessed with ourselves, and — sorry, sometimes I do get carried away. Even I’m not immune. So ... you called Rob Burton and broke the news. What happened?"

He didn’t react as I expected. I thought he would be angry at me, but instead he sort of ignored me. He began arguing with himself, and then he announced it wasn’t true. I don’t think he could accept the fact. I ... I think he’s retreated into himself, possibly even had a nervous breakdown. He won’t answer my calls. I can’t even get a response from his virtual assistant.

Wil pursed his lips. Hmmm, that’s definitely possible.

Is there anything you can do? He doesn’t like me, but he is — was — Rodan’s best friend, and I know he doesn’t have any other friends. As Yolanda waited, expectant, a guilty thought occurred to her: maybe Wil could succeed where Rodan had failed. And we need him in the project.

I think his current well-being should be our main concern. Wil smiled as he rebuked her. However, I do agree that we need his cooperation. In the long term. I’ll see what I can do. Fortunately, as I’m also a psychiatrist, I can force him to undergo treatment if necessary — for his own good, of course — if I deem him in need of it.

Yolanda sighed and relaxed into a relieved smile as the tension drained out of her. Thanks, Wil. I knew I could count on you,

That’s what I’m here for. I’ll handle Rob Burton and you ... I think you need a few days break as well to get over your ex-husband’s death. I’ll drop in and check on you since I have to travel to Switzerland anyway. Leave it to me, I’ll sort everything out. Will stood and walked around his desk to face Yolanda and stare into her eyes. I want you to know how important you are to me ... personally as well as professionally. I promise, I’ll be there for you.

Er ... thanks, Wil. Yolanda bit her lip and gave him a lukewarm smile. I look forward to seeing you. His office disappeared as she ended the call. She shook her head. That was strange. What am I getting myself into?

* * *

Good morning, Rob. How are we feeling this morning?

Rob turned away from Wil Alvaro and hunched up his shoulders. When do I get out of here?

When you’re well enough to leave. Wil glanced up at the ceiling and cocked his eyebrows for Yolanda’s benefit, then resumed his best bedside manner. I’m sure that won’t be for much longer. You’ve progressed well. Now just hold still....

As he waved a small scanner around Rob’s head, a multitude of tiny three-D displays popped into existence overhead, each view of Rob’s brain was diffused with a different color to indicate the status of a host of neurotransmitters, proteins, and electrical activity. Wil pocketed his scanner and poked a brain to enlarge it so he could examine its innards in greater detail. The intensity of color indicated the level of exception from normal activity and there were only a few bright spots scattered throughout the images.

Good, good ... excellent! A few more days and you’ll be as good as new — or rather, you’ll be back to your old self.

So, can I leave? Rob snapped, turning his head away.

Wil dismissed the displays and sighed. Although patients were monitored automatically, time and again he had found that they responded well to that personal touch. But Rob was determined to be the exception. Are you asking because you would like to know, or merely as a courtesy? I know you’ve checked your legal status.

I think you’re keeping me here to study me for your damned project! You’ve used my slight problem—

You were in a comatose state when the pols finally managed to overcome your personal security system. You would have died if Yolanda hadn’t been so concerned about you.

I knew it! Rob jerked around and sneered at Wil. You’re both in this together. Well don’t think you can get away with it.

With what? Wil tensed and tried to keep his anger in check. I can just as easily put you away for a long time. Your paranoia, for one thing. No— He checked himself in an effort to stay calm. No wonder Yolanda was so frustrated. No, three or four more days are all you need to correct the damage. You can insult me all you like, but don’t disparage Yolanda. She genuinely cares about you, as do I, even though you don’t want to believe it. The only reason she has pestered you is because we both know what the outcome of your next rejuv will be. And you know it too.

I’ll deal with that when the time comes.

But—

"No! I’m not letting a bunch of inept morons loose in my head when the time comes. I have too much to lose. A congenial smile spread onto Rob’s face as he stared at Wil. Don’t worry, I have everything under control. In fact, I’m way ahead of you. Now, if there’s nothing else, I’m leaving." Rob stood up and brushed past.

Very well. Wil shrugged. "I can’t stop you. Technically, you can be treated as an outpatient, but I wish you would reconsider. Despite your bravado, I know your ego is in a very fragile state. You may be free to leave, but I will still monitor your psychological state until I deem it that you are fully healed. Do you understand?"

Fully, and I don’t give a damn. Rob swept out of the room without looking back.

What do you think? Wil asked out loud. Yolanda’s head popped up, with a bemused look on her face.

Now you know what I’ve had to put up with, trying to talk him into cooperating with us.

Yes, I see now, how difficult he can be. Dinner?

What? Oh ... yes, fine. That would be nice, I guess.

Good. We can get to know each other better and you can tell me all about your problems with Robert. Your apartment, 7:30. Is that okay?

She hesitated and then offered a diffident smile. Yes.

Great, I’ll see you then. Yolanda’s head vanished.

She had always been a little standoffish, which had put him off approaching her, and though she was still a little reserved, she was starting to warm to him. And now that he knew the reason, he knew how to break down her defenses. She would be his. The first time he had seen her, he knew they were meant to be together. It was clear she wanted love and he had love to burn. And Rob Burton was the key. Wil smiled to himself; it looked like he would be staying for quite some time yet.

CHAPTER 3

As Sifour’s shuttle coasted to a stop, dwarfed by the remnant hulk of the space station, an icon flashed in a three-D display where a discrepancy had been detected amongst the debris scattered around the derelict rings. The discrepancy beamed a narrow signal at the h’Slaitiarr shuttle.

H’Slaitiarr ship, welcome! I am Aldar, acting station manager. I request your assistance.

Five pairs of stubby legs stuck out from beneath the oval-shaped body of the h’Slaitiarr in the foreground, and they rose and fell as slow waves ran through them in time to the placid red and yellow spirals that swirled along its flanks. They looked like the ends of soggy spaghetti, now that they weren’t inflated with blood and the hydraulic fluids used to give them their strength and rigidity in gravity. Wandar wondered if she would ever get used to being around slaters. Even ones that seemed to be trying to be friendly.

Greetings, Aldar, said Sifour. I am Third Master from the h’Kharrsai Group, senior investigator for the h’Slaitiarr government. We shall retrieve you. Are there any survivors?

Greetings, Third Master from the h’Kharrsai Group, there are no survivors here.

Are you certain? I ask with respect to a human called Rodan Tyson.

No, he is definitely not alive here. Are there any humans with you?

Human investigators will arrive in about six hours. Why do you ask?

I want to meet them. Aldar’s voice grew excited in a way that Wandar had never heard a robot talk before and if it didn’t sound so disconcerting it would have been comical. "I have to meet them, to touch them, to ... to.... Aldar’s tone reverted to the even, mellow cant that was usual for robots. I have a data cube that contains important information. Rodan Tyson retrieved it from the body of First Master from the h’Terzai Group."

Thank you, Aldar, that will be of great help. Please stand by while we retrieve you.

* * *

The translation of Sifour’s vid ended and the display snapped off. What do you think? asked Anil. I think that robot’s been out in the radiation too long.

Wandar shook her head and her lips quirked as she fought to stifle a laugh. "I wonder what he meant when he said he needed to touch us. I’ve never heard a robot talk like that before. Her door chimed. Ah, he’s here. I guess we should meet our odd new friend. Enter!"

The door split and its halves swished apart, then a half-meter cube floated in, flanked by two human guards.

Stop it! A female guard squirmed away from the robot’s left forward manipulator just as the male guard on the opposite side jerked and batted away another. I’m sorry, sir, said the female guard, he keeps trying to— the robot tried to grasp her buttock and she squirmed away again, "grab me. It’s weird. Stop that!"

I only wish to show how pleased I am to see you, said Aldar in a silky, sensuous voice. Wandar dismissed the guards with a hand-wave, and with relieved smiles they twisted out of Aldar’s reach and backed out. "I am so glad to meet you. I am Aldar, acting station manager. He moved forward until he pressed against Anil’s thigh and wrapped his two forward manipulators about Anil’s legs in a heavy embrace. Oh, you are so beautiful, I am in heaven."

Let go of me! Anil jostled with the manipulators and frowned at Wandar when she chuckled.

He likes you! How sweet.

I have an extra pair of manipulators, said Aldar, I can hold you with those. He rotated and tried to grab Wandar, but she jerked back. It would be my pleasure—

No. We have work to do. I’m afraid it’s business before pleasure. Now let Anil go— She ducked sideways to avoid his grasp. Control yourself! Let Anil go so we can— She caught hold of Aldar’s manipulators, before they could grab her, and thrust him away. "Let’s get to work or ... or I’ll have your body dismantled. Would you like that?"

I’ll do it personally, said Anil.

Aldar backed away and retracted its manipulators. I apologize; I did not mean to offend you. I do not know why I act this way, but I find you both attractive. I promise to control myself. It is just ... his voice rose higher, becoming more excited with each word, "you have such beautiful eyes, such sensuous lips — I love the way they pout — and your breasts, your long legs ... I ... I want to do something to you, but I do not know what."

He paused and his voice lowered back to normal. I must apologize. I do not know why I say these things and I do not understand why I have no control over them.

A soft tune trilled behind Wandar, and she breathed a sigh of relief. Ah, that’s Sifour. The sooner they got this over with the better. This robot was starting to get to her.

Sifour flashed up opposite her in a full-body virt. Greetings. Are we ready to start?

Greetings, Sifour, said Wandar and Anil in unison.

Greetings, Third Master from the h’Kharrsai Group, said Aldar.

I guess we should start at the beginning, said Wandar. Aldar, I take it you have personal logs from when Rodan arrived at the space station up to when he.... She swallowed a sudden lump in her throat. Why did he have to disobey her?

I have both personal logs and station logs to verify my information until the moment that both Rodan Tyson and Marla Brown were no longer alive at the station.

Anil glanced at Wandar and frowned. What? You mean he’s alive somewhere else in the universe?

No, as far as I know, he is not alive in our universe.

With a slight shake of his head, Anil rolled his eyes to let her know what he thought of their strange guest. He drifted up close to Wandar and whispered in her ear. I think Aldar’s definitely been out in the radiation too long. I’ve never known a robot to act like him at all ... I don’t know what to make of it.

As long as we can verify its information, I do not see a problem, said Sifour.

Wandar nodded. Let’s get this over with, she muttered and then turned to the robot. Aldar, please play your personal logs.

In silence, they watched the drama in the space station unfold before them. Aisev’s freighter arrived, damaged and unable to brake, and twelve h’Slaitiarr escape pods streamed away from the stricken ship. They all docked safely, except for the last one.

Can we get a closer look at that one? Wandar asked. Another vid appeared next to Aldar’s personal log, this one from the station’s sensor logs.

The last escape pod swept into view and grew to fill the display, its attitude jets firing in fits, but still it bucked and swayed out of control and Wandar shook her head as the reason for that loss of control grew clear. Two human figures clung to the pod, holding on for dear life as they were dashed back and forth over its surface.

Then the pod’s main rocket fired at full thrust and the two humans jerked free and fell out of view toward the space station. And yet Rodan had survived.

With a sad smile, she wiped away a small tear. He had more lives than a cat, but not enough. She watched the pilot struggle to gain control, but the pod’s momentum was too great. It sailed through the station’s ramparts and crashed into an array of sensors, ploughing through the thicket of barbed antennae, and smashing them like so much fragile crystal before it clipped a more solid mast and ricocheted to freedom. Then the rectangular pod’s central bulge blew away. As the pilot tumbled free, a line shot out from the side of its transparent safety suit and a grappling hand snagged an antenna jutting out from a damaged array. Slowly, the h’Slaitiarr reeled itself in.

That is First Master from the h’Terzai Group, said Aldar as he drifted toward her, but Rodan knew it as Aisev.

Wandar directed a stern glance at him, and he slowed to a stop. What about the other two? she asked.

I rescued them, and we were imprisoned in a storeroom.

What? You as well? asked Anil.

Yes.

Why did—?

For security, said Sifour. Aisev would have considered Aldar to be a potential security risk.

"I do not know why. All sentient robots are non-violent. I