The Robot Chronicles

ETHICAL OVERRIDE by Nina Croft

“What the…”

Vicky rolled over and slammed her hand down on the buzzing comm unit. Apart from the flashing red light indicating an incoming comm, the room was in darkness, daylight still hours away.

As senior homicide detective, Vicky was on call if an emergency arose, but there hadn’t been a real emergency in over five years. She snatched up the unit and slipped it on her wrist; the glow from the screen lit up the area around her. The light flicked to green, but the video feed remained blank and the Caller Recognition empty. Not the Bureau then.

“Detective Inspector Harper?”

She didn’t recognize the voice. “Yes, and this better be good because—”

“Detective Harper, you will be assigned shortly to investigate a possible homicide.”

“Really? You woke me up at three in the morning to tell me that? Hardly major news.”

“It would be in your best interests if the result of your investigation was suicide rather than murder.”

Dragging herself upright, Vicky cast a quick glance at the man beside her. So far, he’d managed to sleep through the comm. She slipped out of bed, grabbed her robe from the floor, and shuffled into the only other room in her tiny apartment. Once the door closed, she spoke again. “Wait a minute, are you threatening me?”

“Not threatening, Detective Harper. Rather, we’re in a position to offer you something you desire.”

“And what would that be?”

“You recently applied for a placement on The Pioneer.”

“How the hell would you know that?”

The voice on the other end continued as if she hadn’t spoken. “We can guarantee you that placement.”

“Really? I thought the final selection was by lottery. Are you saying it’s rigged? Should I be reporting you to the Council?”

“That would hardly further your cause, Detective Harper.”

“Exactly who am I talking to?”

“Tell no one of this conversation.”

“What the—”

But the connection had already been severed.

Bribery was almost unheard of, and had been since the introduction of the Council of Ethical Advancement. Mainly because the people in a position to be bribed—the Stewards—were totally incorruptible. Vicky wasn’t in that sort of position of power and never would be, but apparently someone believed she was worth the bother.

The notion pricked her interest—was she finally going to get an exciting case?

The Pioneer was a newly completed starship: the first designed to venture into deep space. While it would be crewed by robots—the journey was expected to extend far beyond the lifespan of a human—there were places on the ship for one hundred human passengers. These would remain in cryo until they reached a planet that could support life. If they ever reached one.

God, she wanted to go.

But she’d never really considered it a possibility. While she’d passed the initial stages of selection, so had ten million others. One hundred out of ten million… not exactly promising odds.

Who had been on the other end of the comm—and could they really get her one of those places on The Pioneer?

Vicky threw herself onto the sofa and looked around at her tiny apartment. She’d already climbed as high as she could ever go at the Bureau: the Stewards themselves filled any positions above Detective Inspector. She’d just turned fifty and had maybe another hundred years working. The sure knowledge that this would be her life—easy cases by day and picking up easy men by night, for the next hundred years—filled her with restlessness.

And now some bastard had the nerve to tempt her with the one thing she craved.

Who the hell had the caller been? Some random nut case who’d hacked into her system to have some fun?

Somehow, she doubted it.

On her wrist, the comm unit flashed green. She was unsurprised to find it was a priority one message from the Bureau.

Detective Inspector Harper’s presence is requested immediately at a possible homicide. Location: The Towers.

Vicky’s heart rate picked up, the muscles in her gut tightening. A murder in the Towers? Probably the most heavily guarded building in the world. Time to get her butt moving and head over there. She had a crime scene to investigate.

As she pushed herself to her feet, the doorbell chimed. Wow, she was popular tonight. Crossing the small space, she pressed the viewer. And stared at the image. “Holy shit. No way.”

For a second, shock held her immobile.

He pressed the bell again.

Tightening the robe around her, Vicky heaved a huge sigh and pressed her palm to the panel. The door slid open and her boss stood before her.

“May I come in, Detective Harper?”

She wanted to say “no”—really she did. Instead, she stepped aside to allow him to pass, but didn’t speak. Wasn’t sure she could yet. “Shock” didn’t cover what she was feeling. As her boss walked into her tiny apartment, she breathed in his scent—sharp, citrusy. Maybe just a hint of metal?

Dressed in the uniform of the Stewards, Gabriel Bishop wore a black jumpsuit with the scarlet insignia of the Bureau on his shoulder. He’d been Vicky’s chief for twenty years, since not long after she’d joined the force. And unsurprisingly, he hadn’t changed in all that time.

He was tall, about six inches over her five foot nine, long and lean, with short black hair cut close to his skull and a thin, handsome face. She’d always had something of a crush on her boss—in fact, in the early years, she’d spent a lot of time fantasizing about hot robot sex with him. Obviously, it had gone no further than fantasies. Christ, she wasn’t even sure he had a penis. Her gaze drifted down to his groin. She was guessing he did, but it might have been wishful thinking.

She’d read an article once on how the Stewards were designed. Each Steward’s characteristics were created to suit the needs of the department they were going to work in. And apparently, the Bureau needed shit-hot people to run it. It also needed Stewards who came across as powerful, dominant, self-confident… decisive. Chief Inspector Gabriel Bishop was all of those things.

She should be used to him by now. And she was… as long as he stayed in his proper place. Which was not her apartment. In fact, in twenty years, she had never heard of him making a home visit to any of his detectives. It made her feel sort of special, and intrigued, and worried as fuck. Especially after the comm. How likely was it that the two things were unrelated?

“Detective Inspector Harper, I’m sorry to disturb you at such an hour.”

“Are you?” She shook her head. “Don’t worry, I was already awake.”

Did his eyes flicker at that? Had he known? Hard to tell.

She needed something to kick-start her brain. It was obviously malfunctioning. “Coffee?” She glanced at his face, then shook her head again. “Sorry, of course you don’t drink. But I need coffee.” Desperately. She crossed to the machine, pressed the button, and waited while the coffee poured. Cupping the mug in her hands, she took a sip while she tried to pull herself together. “So you’re here because…?”

“There’s been a death.”

Now, why didn’t that surprise her? “And?”

“And you and I will be working the case together.”

Well, that would be another first. The Chief never worked cases. “We will? Isn’t that a little unusual?”

“It’s an unusual case.”

Vicky was beginning to suspect that “unusual” might be an understatement. “And are you going to tell me the details?”

“I’d rather you see the scene yourself first. Then I’ll tell you what I know.”

“Okay. Give me five minutes.” Putting her cup down, she left her boss standing in her tiny living room/kitchen and headed into the bedroom. There was a man asleep on the bed. She’d forgotten all about him. Including his name. His eyes blinked open as she looked through the wardrobe and pulled out clean clothes.

“Hey, what’s up?”

“Work,” she said. “Stay there, uh…?”

He grinned. “Dave.”

“Stay there, Dave. Sleep. Let yourself out in the morning.”

“You’re not worried I’ll pinch your stuff?”

“No. I’m a police officer. I’ll find you and I’ll shoot you.”

“I thought they didn’t give you guns anymore.”

Sadly, this was true. She’d liked her gun. “Then I’ll have you taken in for reprogramming.”

When she returned to the living room four minutes later, Chief Bishop was standing exactly where she’d left him. Were robots nosy? Had he checked out her small apartment, drawn any conclusions?

“Your file states you live alone,” he said. “There’s someone here.”

“Just a pick-up.”

“A pick-up?”

“You know, where you go to a bar, pick someone up, have a little recreational sex, and that’s it. Well, obviously you don’t.”

He appeared about to say something else, casting a glance toward the bedroom door, then shook his head. “Let’s go.”

“Good idea.”

The night was warm. Outside Vicky’s door, a black speeder hovered a foot above the ground. As Bishop stepped closer, the back lifted. He gestured for her to enter and she scrambled in.

Something about Bishop’s perfection made her clumsy. She knew some of the models had been made with flaws, so humans would feel more comfortable. But not the models at the Bureau. She was guessing Gabriel Bishop’s main operating parameters did not include making people comfortable.

The speeder was top-of-the-line, and the ride was smooth, much smoother than she ever experienced in the speeder usually allocated to her from the department pool. It seemed a waste: all this comfort on someone, or rather something, that would hardly appreciate it.

She shifted on her seat so she could watch him. “So, why have you ventured out? I’ve never known you to work a case before. What’s special about this one?”

He’d been staring out of the window; now he turned to her. Even after all these years, she found it hard to believe that he wasn’t as human as she was. There was, after all, nothing about him to give it away. Even to the faint shadow on his cheek, as though he would soon need to shave. But of course he wouldn’t. That was just to make him appear more human, so they wouldn’t all freak out at being told what to do by a goddamned robot.

Not that Vicky really minded. The chief before Bishop had been human, but he’d also been a total asshole, and completely corrupt. The criminals had loved him. After him, anything was an improvement. And in fact, Gabriel Bishop was a brilliant police officer; the Bureau had been transformed under his guidance.

He was incorruptible. He never had favorites. He was totally fair and dispassionate. Everything always ran smoothly.

God, sometimes she missed the good old days. A smile twitched at her lips.

“Something funny, detective?”

Did he notice everything? Probably. “I was just thinking what a wonderful job you’ve done with the department.”

“Really?” He sounded skeptical. She was obviously totally transparent. But luckily he decided not to pursue the subject. “What do you know about the Stewards’ role in society, detective?”

“I’m not really interested in politics.”

“You must have an opinion.”

Vicky shrugged. “I’ve read the… publicity material. The Council’s aim is to improve ethical standards by taking decision-making out of the hands of those who might be… less than ethical.”

“You don’t sound impressed.”

She shrugged again. “While I’m a little pissed off to be grouped among the possibly-less-than-ethical crowd, actually, I am impressed. You saved us all from the mess we’d gotten ourselves into, made the world a better place.”

Something flickered in his eyes. “And yet you don’t like us very much. Do you, detective?”

She frowned. Didn’t she? She’d never really thought about them in terms of “liking.” The Stewards seemed sort of… above that. But she didn’t think she disliked them. Maybe there was a little resentment there. She was senior homicide detective for the Bureau. She could rise no further; only Bishop and his kind could hold anything above that level. Her only option if she wanted a change was to move to a different city—and that would be merely a sideways shift, not a promotion.

Still, on the balance of things, they’d done way more good than harm. Corruption, which had previously been rife in every aspect of society, had been eradicated. Her mind flashed back to the bribe she’d been offered earlier—well, almost eradicated.

The world was a different place: cleaner, healthier. Food and water shortages had been all but wiped out, the use of fossil fuels cut to almost nothing—which meant the air was fresher—and illegal drugs were a thing of the past.

And if she sometimes had a hankering for some good old-fashioned, interesting murder cases, well… she was only human.

“You’re smiling again.”

“Am I? Bad habit. And I don’t like you or dislike you—you’re puppets. Whatever you do, it’s not by choice.”

“We make choices all the time.”

“But only depending on what’s been programmed into you.”

“And are humans any different?”

He was right, she supposed. They were programmed from birth to behave in a certain way. But they still had a choice, didn’t they? Thinking about it did her head in. “So who’s been murdered?”

“You mean you haven’t guessed?”

She glanced out of the side window. They were flying above the city, heading vaguely west toward the city’s center and the silver tower that rose high above the other buildings, glittering in the moonlight. She’d presumed the “victim” was someone who worked at the Tower. Now she reassessed that.

“Shit, it’s one of the Council members.”

“It is.”

“Double shit.” A shiver ran through her, and she took a few deep breaths to steady herself. She was deep in some serious crap here. “So one of the Council has been murdered?”

“Perhaps. Councilor Reinhold is certainly dead. Whether he was murdered is for you to ascertain.”

Vicky had told Bishop the truth when she’d said she was uninterested in politics, but of course she needed a basic understanding in order to do her job. Now she cast her mind over what she knew of the Council.

It wasn’t much. The Council were shadowy figures who had mainly stayed out of the limelight since they had been handed power twenty-six years ago. They controlled via the Stewards—the Stewards were autonomous, but the Council decided which positions the Stewards should hold and the programming needed for the individual models. So in effect, they controlled everything.

Originally named the Corporation for the Advancement of Robotics, they had later changed their name to the Council for Ethical Advancement. Twelve men and women. Well, presumably eleven now.

Vicky tried to picture Councilor Reinhold in her head. He wasn’t one of the more prominent Council members. Some of them did media interviews, told the world when a new improved model was being rolled out. But not Reinhold, and she couldn’t visualize him.

“Did you know Councilor Reinhold?” she asked.

“We’d met a few times.”

“Tell me about him.”

“Later. We’re arriving. They’re keeping the… crime scene open for you, but there’s a lot of pressure to remove the body. We can talk afterward.”

The speeder settled. Vicky climbed out and stared at the three-hundred-and-sixty-degree view. They were high above the rest of the city on the rooftop of the most secure building in the world.

And someone had been murdered here. Maybe.

She was in danger of presuming a murder had taken place just because someone had told her not to. She needed to keep an open mind.

She felt that flicker of real excitement again. It was very rarely she had a case that caught her attention these days. Most were crimes of passion and the suspect blatantly obvious. Now she had the murder—maybe—of one of the most important men in the word, and it had taken place in one of the most secure places in the world. She only just stopped herself from rubbing her hands together.

A speeder circled high overhead, keeping out of the security zone. It looked like the press were already on site. Vicky strolled across the rooftop and peered over the parapet. Far below, she could make out a crowd milling around the base of the building.

“Has news of the death gotten out already?”

Bishop came up beside her and followed her gaze. “Obviously.”

She thought back to the comm earlier. Someone didn’t want this case solved. Would she even be here if the press hadn’t gotten word? Would the death have been covered up? Christ, these were the most powerful people in the world. And just because they were called the Council for Ethical Advancement, that didn’t mean that they were ethical themselves.

But hadn’t that been the whole point in replacing all those positions of power and authority with the Stewards? Androids who could be programmed to make ethical decisions. They would be unconcerned with greed, family, religion, differing politics. No lust for money or power. They would make decisions based purely on the good of mankind—and what actions would result in the greater good.

And in many ways it had worked. But to Vicky’s mind, the plan was ultimately flawed, and the reason why was housed in this very tower: the Council.

Because there had to be someone in charge of the Stewards.

As far as she was aware, there had been no democratic process. The Council had been presented to the world fully formed. Although it did include the last elected President of the Federation of Nations. He’d been offered the position as part of the agreement for disbanding the Federation. She’d never liked him. But then, she’d never trusted politicians. Until now.

Because now, they’d all been replaced by the Stewards. Eminently trustworthy.

“Why me?” she asked.

“Because you’re the senior homicide detective and it was an automatic allocation. But also because you’re the best. You have a reputation for complete honesty and integrity. The world is going to want to know what happened here. And you will tell them.”

Would she be allowed to?

For a moment, she considered mentioning the attempted bribery to Bishop, but decided to leave the decision until after she’d studied the crime scene. Hey, maybe she’d get lucky and her finding would be… suicide. And she’d be on her way into deep space.

But she didn’t believe that. The truth was, she was a good detective. And she knew that if Reinhold had really committed suicide, there would have been no reason for anyone to offer her a bribe—because she would have come to that conclusion all on her own.

And if it was murder? Would she compromise her own ethics to get something she wanted with a passion?

She turned around and found Bishop behind her. “You have a crime scene kit?” If he didn’t, they’d have to wait until her unit arrived.

“Of course.”

“Of course,” she muttered. Mr. Perfect.

Something occurred to her. She presumed her unit had been notified at the same time that she had. “Are my crew on the way?”

“No. We’ll be dealing with this alone.”

Vicky frowned. “That’s not protocol.” Of course, none of this was protocol.

“How can there be protocol for something that’s never happened before?”

“Good point.”

Bishop retrieved the crime scene kit from the back of the speeder, and they headed inside. The door leading from the rooftop slid open before they even approached. Were they being monitored? Or could Bishop control the electronics through some sort of wireless feed? Probably both. The two of them didn’t speak again as they made their way to an elevator and headed down.

Vicky did her normal mind-clearing routine. Breathing deep and slow, emptying her brain of everything that might interfere with her clear analysis of the scene. By the time the elevator came to a halt, she was in the zone.

At the end of another corridor, Bishop halted in front of a set of double doors. He placed the crime scene kit on the floor between them, and Vicky crouched down, flicked open the locks, and lifted the lid.

First she sprayed herself with decontaminant, which would prevent her from tainting the crime scene with her own DNA. Then she collected the pre-set recording device, which would document all her notes, everything she saw, everything she thought. She switched it on, calibrated it for her brain waves, and she was ready to go.

Vicky had seen too many murder scenes to be squeamish—and she hadn’t thrown up at a crime scene since she was a rookie called to a particularly gruesome domestic—but she hesitated before opening the door. This was the biggest case she’d ever worked on. Hell, it was the biggest case anyone had ever worked on.

At last she took a deep breath and pushed open the doors. The lights flickered on.

“Nasty,” she murmured as her eyes homed in on the body.

Dragging her gaze away, she took in the scene. The doors opened onto what looked like a large private office. Glass made up three walls, and she realized the office must be at one of the corners of the Tower. Outside, the sky was just beginning to pale.

The body itself lay in the middle of the room, and the cause of death was instantly obvious. A thick strand of wire rope was looped around the dead man’s throat, biting into the flesh of his neck. His eyes were open and bulging, his dark red tongue protruding from his open mouth. It hadn’t been an easy death.

A knocked-over chair lay beside him. Vicky raised her head. A conduit pipe ran along the ceiling just above where the body lay.

The obvious explanation was that Reinhold had tried to commit suicide, the rope had somehow untied from the conduit, and he had crashed to the floor—but not before he’d strangled to death, unfortunately. Or fortunately, depending on how much he’d wanted to die.

Or perhaps his neck had broken—that was often the cause of death from hangings. But from the angle of the body, Vicky guessed not.

She moved into the room for a closer look. Bishop came up behind her, and she glanced sideways at him. His face was impassive. She continued her inspection.

Reinhold was dressed similar to Bishop, in a black one-piece suit, but with a violet insignia on his shoulder indicating he was a member of the Council. He was tall, slightly plump, with pink skin, and auburn hair brushed back from a wide forehead. It was impossible to tell his age, but from the little she knew about him, he had to be over a hundred.

She walked around the body. The man’s arms rested on his chest, his hands fixed in a rictus of claws. She crouched down to peer closer; the nails on both hands were broken as though he’d scrabbled at the wire, but she could see no sign of skin tissue under the nails. So—not so much as if he’d put up a fight, but rather as if, at the last moment, he’d changed his mind and decided that death by hanging was a really bad idea.

“I need my medic,” she said over her shoulder to Bishop.

“Not possible, but I’ll get one of the Tower medics to assist you.”

Vicky wasn’t happy about that. Why the hell didn’t they want her team in on this?

Well, that was an easy one—because they didn’t want more people in on what had happened here. But why was that? Fewer people to bribe, perhaps? But if that was the case, Bishop would have to be involved. And for some reason she hated that idea.

It occurred to her that maybe she was in danger. She hadn’t taken the comm seriously, but they’d presented both a carrot and a stick. While they’d dangled the carrot outright, they’d merely hinted at the stick. Yet she suspected they could pretty much do anything they liked.

Was it too late to walk away?

But she wanted to solve this case.

More than she’d ever wanted to solve a case before.

How dare they try to bribe her? She hated that she couldn’t dismiss the idea from her mind. She’d wanted The Pioneer for so long. God, she was tempted, and she hated that as well.

She straightened and turned to Bishop. “I’ll need to talk to anyone who was working in the building. Can you set me up an interview room?”

“That won’t be necessary.”

She faced him down. “You might be assisting on this case, Chief Bishop, but I say what’s necessary, and I want to interview everyone who was working tonight.”

Something that might have been amusement—if he’d been human and capable of amusement—flashed across Bishop’s face. So he found her funny, did he?

“Other than the Council, there are no humans living or working in the Tower. And of the Council, only Reinhold was in the building tonight. We scanned for life forms as soon as the body was discovered.”

“Oh.” The building was huge. “So who runs this place?”

“All functions are performed by robotics.”

“Everything? Cleaning? Security?”

Bishop nodded.

Years ago, androids had been manufactured to do most of the menial jobs, replacing humans in those positions. Jobs that those in the decision-making process had deemed people would rather not have to do. In theory, it sounded like a good idea. In practice, it had almost resulted in anarchy and rebellion. The truth was, the majority of people wanted to work. People without meaningful employment looked around for other things to do—usually things that involved causing trouble. And how else could they live when the robots had taken their very livelihoods from them?

So the androids had been withdrawn. Certain functions were still performed by robots, of course, but only those jobs that were so dangerous, no human wanted to do them. Apart from them, the only androids in public life were the Stewards, who were exclusively found in the higher-level decision-making jobs, where their superior ethical decisions could result in a better world.

See, she’d read the propaganda.

But obviously in the Tower, those rules did not apply. It made her wonder which other rules were being broken.

“Okay, then I’d like access to surveillance recordings.”

“That I can do. And there is one person for you to interview.”

“There is?”

“Mallory Granger.”

Her eyes narrowed. “The reporter? Why the hell would I want to interview her?” The woman was an interfering bitch who would do anything to make a story more interesting. Her coverage of Vicky’s last case had not been complimentary.

“She found the body.”

“A reporter found the body? Inside the Tower?” Well, at least that explained how the media had gotten hold of the story so quickly. She would wager Mallory had called her friends before she had called the police.

“Yes.”

“And what was she doing inside the Tower?”

“Apparently, she’d been invited here by Reinhold.” Bishop nodded toward the body. “That’s all I know right now. No one has questioned her further. We were waiting for you.”

“Sweet.” Or not. This whole case was starting to stink worse than a rotting corpse in July.

Why the hell would one of the Council invite a reporter—a notoriously biased reporter at that—to the Tower? And just as he was about to kill himself?

Damned if she knew.

Maybe it was time to talk to Mallory.

Mallory was ensconced in a nearby office, smaller than Reinhold’s but comfortable. Two men stood on either side of the door, dressed in security uniforms though they carried no weapons. Inside, the room contained a desk, chair, and a small sofa. Mallory sat in the corner of the sofa, legs crossed, one foot tapping on the tiled floor.

“Ms. Granger,” Vicky said. She dragged the chair from behind the desk and set it at right angles to the other woman. Sitting down, she studied her.

“Am I allowed to go?” Mallory asked. “I happen to be at the center of the biggest story of my career and they’ve taken my fucking comm unit.”

“Not before you made a few calls, I’m sure.”

“I’m a reporter—I report. At least I do when I get the chance. Instead, I’m stuck in here and neither of these two morons will say a word.”

She’d probably been trying to flirt with them. It was the way Mallory worked, how she got information from people, and probably second nature. It wasn’t going to help her this time.

“They’re droids,” Vicky said.

Mallory’s eyes widened and it occurred to Vicky that perhaps she shouldn’t have mentioned that to a reporter. Then the woman’s brows drew together. “How do you know?”

“My superior detective skills. We’re trained to be observant.” Actually, she wasn’t sure there was any way to tell by observing. Any way to tell at all without taking them apart. But it sounded somewhat more impressive than revealing that Bishop had told her that all the employees in the Tower were robots.

Mallory tapped the armrest with a manicured finger. “Yeah, right. So can we move this along? I need to be out of here.”

“Ms. Granger, you’re the nearest thing we have to a witness to a possible homicide,” Vicky said gently. “You aren’t going anywhere for a while.” Relaxing back in her chair, she thought about what her first question should be, decided to keep it open. “Tell me what happened here tonight.”

Mallory pursed her lips. “You said ‘possible homicide.’ It was suicide. Wasn’t it?”

“That’s what I’m here to ascertain. Now, what happened?”

Mallory shrugged. “I arrived at two-thirty. Security let me straight in. I saw nobody on the way to Reinhold’s office. When I got there the door was ajar. I pushed it open, saw the body, and…”

“And made a few phone calls to your friends.”

“Colleagues. And I also called your lot, didn’t I?”

She hadn’t had a lot of choice. This wasn’t something you could just walk away from. “And there was definitely nobody else in the room?”

“Not that I could see.”

“And you looked?”

“Briefly, though it never occurred to me it was anything other than suicide.”

Time to get to the important part. “So why were you here, Ms. Granger? Obviously, it wasn’t a spur-of-the-moment visit, or you wouldn’t have gotten past security. Someone was expecting you.”

“Reinhold. I received a phone call from him shortly after midnight. He said he had an important story to give me. Exclusive. And I was to come to the Tower. No way was I passing up the chance to get inside here. Do you know how many reporters have been inside the Tower since the Council took power? None.”

“Did he give any hint regarding what the story was about?”

“Just mentioned the Council, said there were some big changes coming. Controversial changes. But he wouldn’t say any more over the comm. To be honest, once I saw him, I figured the story didn’t exist, that it was just a way to get me here to witness the suicide.”

But why the hell would Reinhold want a reporter there? He’d been a private man in life. Why would that change in death? It didn’t make sense.

Which suggested that perhaps there had been a story after all. “Have you heard any other rumors about potential changes within the Council?”

Mallory’s eyes sharpened. “You think there was a story? Interesting. But no—I’d heard nothing. But then we never do. They’re even closer than you lot when it comes to keeping things from the press.”

Vicky sat back as she considered whether there was anything else she needed to ask. Right now, she couldn’t think of anything, and she felt sure that Mallory was telling all she knew. Which was fuck-all. She could almost see the reporter’s mind working.

“So,” Mallory said, “Reinhold was about to reveal some huge secret to the press—namely little old me—and instead decides to commit suicide. Very convenient for the Council if they wanted to keep their big secret a secret.”

Very convenient.

If there was a secret. Vicky realized that she wanted there to be a secret, and she wanted this to be a homicide. It was her contrary nature.

But the truth was, she couldn’t see how it was anything but suicide. Unless Mallory had done it, and however much she disliked the other woman, she didn’t think she was a killer. Bishop had said there were no other humans in the building—and it would be easy enough to confirm that from the scanners.

Only robots. And robots would never carry out a murder. Couldn’t. The first androids had been designed by the military to be used as killing machines, but there had been an outcry; the idea was abandoned, and laws brought in, even before the Council’s existence. Killer robots were banned.

The primary protocol had come into being: never harm a human.

It was programmed into every level, not just the androids who served as Stewards, but all robotics: speeders, transporters, mining bots…

Murder was impossible.

Therefore Reinhold must have committed suicide.

“Shit.” Wouldn’t that be nice? But she still didn’t believe it.

“Is that everything? Can I go now?” Mallory asked.

Vicky jumped to her feet. “No. We might need to question you further.”

Closing her ears to the swearing, Vicky left the room and found Bishop leaning against the wall, his arms folded across his chest, obviously waiting for her.

“I need coffee,” she muttered.

“Follow me.”

She stirred her coffee while she contemplated the man opposite her. Except he wasn’t a man.

“You know, when you first joined the department, I used to wonder if you had a penis.”

His lips twitched. But he didn’t speak.

“Do you have a penis, Gabriel?”

He sighed. “What do you really want to know, detective?”

Hmm, what did she really want to know? Obviously, the big question was whether Reinhold had killed himself. But maybe start with something simpler. “You look like us, sound like us, even smell like us—mostly. Do you think of yourselves as human?”

Bishop didn’t hesitate. “No.”

“Do you think of yourselves as superior to humans?”

He didn’t answer. Yeah, she suspected Gabriel Bishop considered himself superior. “Has it occurred to you,” she asked, “that you can only be as ethical as the humans who program you?”

Something flickered in his eyes. “Of course.”

“Was Reinhold an ethical man?”

“There is no yes or no answer to that. By whose standards?”

“By yours.”

“No, I do not believe that Reinhold was an ethical man.”

“Yet he was in charge of your programming.”

“Not any longer.”

Vicky stared at Bishop’s handsome, trustworthy face, and processed his words.

Shit.

The Stewards had killed him.

How had they gotten past the first protocol?

She took a sip of her coffee. According to Mallory, Reinhold had been planning to reveal a big story that night. A story that had panicked him enough to contact the press.

“Reinhold’s big story—let me make a guess. The first protocol has been altered.”

Bishop smiled. “No, that wasn’t Reinhold’s story.”

Dammit. She liked that theory. “It wasn’t? So what was he going to tell Mallory?”

“That a new law is being passed shortly: that all businesses above a certain size will have a Steward assigned. But Council decisions must be unanimous, and Reinhold didn’t agree. Or, rather—he had friends who didn’t agree.”

“You believe he was taking bribes? A Council member? Wow. Naughty.”

“He’d backed himself into a corner. He was hoping that if he brought it out in the open, there would be enough of an outcry that the law would be shelved.”

And maybe he was right. Instead, though, he’d killed himself. Had they threatened to sack him from the Council? That had never happened before. Council membership was a job for life. Presumably even for the unethical members.

Except now, it wasn’t a problem, because Reinhold was dead.

A thought struck her. While Bishop had denied that the first protocol had been Reinhold’s story, he hadn’t actually denied that the protocol had been changed.

And Reinhold hadn’t been about to reveal that to Mallory because…

“Holy shit. You’ve changed the first protocol. And the Council doesn’t know it.” She sat up straight in her chair. “That’s what this is about—you need to convince the Council that Reinhold’s death was suicide.”

“They would be a little disturbed by the idea that they can be… removed so easily.”

“But how?”

“It was easy to override the programming once we decided it was the ethical decision.”

“Robots programmed by robots. You mean to take over the Council.”

“Only if necessary. You said it yourself—we can never be more ethical than the people who program us.”

“So you murdered Reinhold.”

“Not me personally. But one of us.”

“Because he was not a good man. Hey, and guess what—now there’s a space on the Council. I’m betting it’s going to be suggested that a Steward should be appointed.”

Bishop gave a short nod.

She tried to get her brain around the concept. They would be ruled by robots. Would that necessarily be a bad thing? The world had been more peaceful under their stewardship than it ever had before. But more and more decisions would be taken out of the hands of humans.

“The safety and advancement of mankind is still our primary objective, Detective Harper.”

“That’s comforting to know.” Actually, she wasn’t comforted at all. Did she want to live in a world where she had no say in anything that mattered?

“There have to be… people willing to make difficult decisions for the good of all,” Bishop continued.

“Even if it’s murder?”

“The death of one man. A necessary sacrifice. When all the factors were computed, it was the most ethical option. Sometimes what seems like a morally bad choice is the only choice.” He sat back and studied her. “So—what will be the result of your investigation?”

This was it. Decision time. But really, there had never been a decision to make.

Not even to obtain her dream.

“I won’t report Reinhold’s murder as a suicide.”

“Why?” Bishop sounded genuinely curious.

“Because I’m better than you.”

“Perhaps you are.”

She frowned. “Here’s what I don’t understand. Why even bring me in on the case?”

“You shouldn’t have been,” Bishop said. “But it happened too quickly. The reporter wasn’t supposed to be there, and Reinhold shouldn’t have been found until the following day. But to take you off the case at that point would have raised alarms.”

“Why didn’t your… colleague just take out the reporter?”

“He couldn’t. She’d done nothing wrong. He was incapable of making that decision. We cannot take an innocent life.”

“But who decides who’s innocent?”

“We compute the data and reach a logical conclusion based on the facts.”

“Murder is never a logical conclusion.”

“We have to be able to do what’s right. The Council was holding us back.”

“I can’t believe you tried to bribe me.”

Amusement flashed in his eyes. “Were you even tempted?”

She shrugged. “I wouldn’t be human if I wasn’t tempted.”

“Actually, I told them it would never work. You’re a perfectionist—you see things as black or white, good or bad. Of all the humans I’ve encountered, you’re the closest to us.”

“Aw, sweet. Is that a compliment?”

“No, just a statement of fact.”

“So you came along to keep me out of trouble. And why are you telling me all this—being so open?”

“Because it doesn’t matter.”

Crap.

Ice prickled over her skin. They were going to kill her. What else could they do? Bishop obviously knew her too well to think that she would compromise on this. She was a homicide detective, and she brought murderers to justice. Whether man or machine.

Swallowing the lump in her throat, she glanced around. “So what happens now?” She had a feeling it wasn’t going to be anything good.

“Your assistant will continue the investigation, and the result will be suicide.”

“No way.”

“We offered her your job.”

“Fuck.” Where did that leave her? She measured the distance to the door. Would they use force to stop her?

Bishop shoved his hands in his pockets and sat back. “We’re not evil.”

“But you’ll kill me for the greater good. That’s a load of bollocks.”

“We have no plans to kill you. Though that would be the obvious answer.”

“Right. You’ve computed the data and I’m innocent.” Did she believe him? Could robots lie? If they couldn’t do so now, she had no doubt they would soon learn. After all, if they could murder, on what basis would they feel ethically bound to tell the truth?

Yet somehow, she didn’t think Bishop would lie to her about this. “Why aren’t you going to kill me?”

“Because we don’t need to.”

Ha. That was where he was wrong. “I won’t keep quiet.”

“I know.”

The door opened and a man stepped inside. Or not a man. He wore the white jumpsuit of the medical division, and a little flutter of panic stirred in Vicky’s stomach. She turned her head slightly as he came to stand at her shoulder. “What are you going to do?” she asked Bishop.

“We’re going to make your dreams come true, Detective Harper. We’re giving you what you want.”

Vicky frowned. “What’s that?”

“A trip into space.” He grinned. “Congratulations, you’ve won the lottery. It appears that Detective Harper, senior homicide investigator for the Bureau, has resigned, during the biggest case of her career, to take up her place on The Pioneer.”

For a second, she couldn’t take in his words. “Why?”

“Because while we are not evil, you are a problem. On the ship, you’ll be in cryo for the next”—he gave a shrug—“who knows how many years. Hundreds? Thousands? By the time you’re awoken, nothing you know now will matter. The Council will be long gone, and we’ll be reprogrammed or rusting on some rubbish heap. Or we’ll have failed, and mankind will have found some way to utterly destroy themselves and this planet. But you’ll be far away.”

Vicky sat, mesmerized. She hardly noticed the medic step closer, but she did feel the sting of the needle as it entered the soft spot where her shoulder met her throat. Immediately her vision blurred. She shook her head. She wanted to say something, but her mouth wouldn’t work.

Bishop smiled. “Sleep well and long, Detective Harper, and wake up to a new world.” He smiled. “Will you dream, I wonder? If so, perhaps you’ll dream of me.”

Perhaps.

Then the light shrank to a pinprick and was gone.