a good-looking boy, John. Very good-looking, in fact, albeit in a rather predictable way. I expect that you’ve always been able to find some poor little low-grade to rut with. I don’t find that as disturbing as Colleague Sousanna here seems to. However, what does interest me is this: with your job and salary, your physique, good genes no doubt, too, why haven’t you ever been chosen as a Consort?”
She laughed nastily.
“Or could it be that you’re programmed like my sweet Colleague Adriyan here?”
More rustling of papers, as Guardian Sousanna looked through the information on Burk that was spread out in front of her.
“There is indeed no indication in Burk’s record of an application for Consort status ever having been submitted.”
Consorts were the males chosen as breeding partners by the females who made up the “useful” part of the Useful Population. Since fertilization by synthetic sperm was the normal procedure, and had been for more than a century, Consorts—who were given honorary UsePop status—were males who had something very special to offer as a reason for bringing them in to fulfill what was, after all, an outdated and superfluous procreative role. Perhaps charm, or looks, intelligence, sexual sophistication, excellent parenting or homemaking skills, any or all of those qualities. Whatever it was, a Consort would need to have it in spades to make some Breeder prefer his sexual company to that of a pleasure android.
“No Breeder seems to have noticed him, though.”
“And he is not (as far as I can tell) ‘programmed’ like myself, as you so charmingly put it.” He tittered slightly. “Unfortunately, I would even go so far as to add. But one always lives in hope, I like to think.”
Burk remembered how crudely Guardian Adriyan had eyed him up at the reception. Receiving no encouraging body-language signals in reply, he had quickly transferred his attention to the crewman, Dhavid, a lad who was well known on the ship for putting out with lusty enthusiasm to alpha males who were that way inclined.
“So, John doesn’t particularly go for girls or boys, then? Well, well!”
Burk didn’t much like the way Guardian Rebek’a used his first name.
“The documentation that we have on Burk is still incomplete. Much of this information, additional to the personnel material that was in his shipboard file, had to be extracted from his Main File and transmitted from Terra. As you can imagine, the communication channels on a people transporter in interstellar slide tend to be choked with transmission data, and the present investigation is, after all, hardly a matter of high priority.”
“I beg to disagree. John is very high priority with me, Colleague.”
“What do you mean by that? If you have any information that you are withholding from this investigation, Colleague….”
“I am authorized to withhold whatever I like, as you well know.”
“True. But let me remind you that I am the officer in charge of this investigation.”
“There are some matters that your rank doesn’t qualify you to investigate, Colleague.”
“Don’t forget that you are here on my initiative. As a gesture of politeness.”
“And we will all be very polite to each other,” it seemed to Burk that that probably didn’t include him, “although I am here because I was sent here, and I will tell you what you need to know when you need to know it. At the appropriate time. Colleague.”
The two women were now glaring at each other, bristling (or the nearest thing to bristling that women can manage) and breathing heavily. Burk wouldn’t normally have backed anyone against Guardian Rebek’a, who was just about the most fearsome human specimen he had ever seen. But there was something hard and determined about Guardian Sousanna—here was a woman who wouldn’t back down easily if she believed that she was in the right.
Hey, this is almost fun, he thought. Apart from the tasering of course. More importantly, by losing their cool the Guardians were dropping hints about things that he desperately wanted to know. Such as—what was this whole business all about? Why did he have to be locked up, shouted at and frogmarched around like a SurPop addict with withdrawal symptoms? What “particularly despicable” thing was it that he was supposed to have done?
To keep it all going, he thought, what would now be ideal would be for some mere man to stick his oar in, and, sure enough, this is exactly what happened. Before Burk himself could think of anything clever to say, Guardian Adriyan decided to join in the action.
“Ladies, ladies, please.”
Clang! Disaster! The two female Guardians rounded on their colleague in fury. He couldn’t have chosen his words worse if he had tried. “Ladies” was the contemptuous, euphemistic term that (female) Guardians used for female AdPops (just as useless AdPop males like Burk were referred to sneeringly as “Drones”). Burk couldn’t help smiling. Had dear Adriyan been dozing when they covered these topics in the Interactive Skills module of his Guardian training?
At this point there should really have been a three-way rough-house between the Guardians, which would have been most entertaining to watch! But it never even started, because quite suddenly all hell broke loose.
The ship’s alarm sirens went off, and the lighting began to pulsate in sync with the alarm. Feet pounded in the gangway outside. Loud voices shouted excitedly. All three Guardians at once withdrew into themselves, completely ignoring each other—and Burk. Eyes narrowed, hunched and deathly still, they concentrated on the messages that were already being channeled through to them on the personal communicators attached to their wrists. Other messages—doubtless with the same information—were probably flickering on the screens in front of them.
Guardian Sousanna motioned to Cruella, or whoever it was who was standing behind Burk. “Get him out of here! Now!”
A few seconds later, Burk was knocked out by a sedative taser. But just before he felt the shock, he heard one of the three Guardians say, to the others, not to him, and in a voice of dumbfounded amazement: “This can’t be happening! The ship is under attack!”
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