by Isaac Asimov
“Well, welcome to Janus then.” Dorothy lifted her glass for a toast.
“Thanks!” Gordan took a careful sip. “Mmh! Excellent!”
“This is the planet’s most valued specialty, some people say. You like it?”
“Yes, I do.”
With a smile, they lifted their glasses again. Some feet away a musician started playing Rubarian Flute and the stimulating melody forced their attention. When he started another tune, Dorothy turned back to face Gordan.
“How did you like your apartment?” she asked as to find a more innocuous subject.
“Oh, perfect. Exactly what I need.”
“Good.”
“I already ordered some furnishings today. Besides a bed and the kitchen equipment that place is empty, you know.”
“If you want to, I can give you a hand with that. I know some good addresses.”
“That would be perfect, thank you.”
“Have you been able to arrange everything else? Immigration papers, keycards, taxation office and all that stuff?”
“Yes. Although the procedure was quite disgusting, I assure you. When I… ah, there come our meals.”
After they had finished, Dorothy proposed to end the day in the pub next door. Since it was still crowded, they had to seek a while before they found a small table in the corner of the rear entrance.
“Do you have family?” Dorothy asked, after they had received another beer.
Gordan took a deep sip before he answered. “My parents died several years ago. And since I was their only child, I am for sure the last Kresh in the universe. Although there should be some far-off relative living on some Spacer world. How about you?”
“I have a brother. He lives back on Baleyworld with my parents. I see him from time to time because he is a pilot in Space Command.” Remembering her brother, she giggled slightly. “Sorry. Well, my parents are retired. Dad has been a high-ranked officer as well.”
Gordan nodded not before taking another sip. “Now here is something I would really like to know.”
“Yes?” she answered, curious what he would ask about.
“Well, you have been here a little while now and experienced how the project is developing. How would you describe the relationship between Spacers and Settlers on Janus today?”
Dorothy sighed. “Well. That is certainly not an easy question to answer.”
“Please try! I would really like to know.”
“Okay, let’s see… I would describe the relationship as having covered three different phases until now. First, both sides have been more than skeptical about each other. There were just a few points of mutual contact. Things went slowly and problems encountered had been disregarded.” Dorothy leaned back and combed her hair. “Then - after about half a year - more and more contacts evolved and some Spacers and Settlers - not all - learned to accept each other. Still, it’s only the beginning of the urbanization.”
“And the third phase?”
“Well, now we are in a phase where the domains and roles seem to have been cemented, I would say. Spacers are now doing traditional Spacer-work and Settlers the Settlers’ things. Flexibility is gone.”
Gordan frowned. “Hmm… Would you consider this a positive or negative impact?”
Dorothy shrugged her shoulders. “I am not sure about it. On the one hand, everybody knows the other’s point of view and can act accordingly. But then, there really is no flexibility. Exactly as I mentioned before, things seem to be stuck and therefore no improvement in the relationship is to be expected in the near future.”
“But as it is now, it seems to work.”
“So far - yes.”
“Well, so does the beer,” Gordan said cheerfully. “Another one for you?”
“No thank you. But what about dancing? There is a dance floor over there. And hey! They’re playing one of my favorite songs!”
Gordan shook his head smilingly. “I must warn you - I am a bad dancer.”
Several beers and various dances later, the two left the Aerie, just before it closed. Fooling and joking around, they made their way home. Dorothy was delighted because of all the fun they had. As it had played out, Gordan was a far better dancer than he had classified himself. When the hoo-cap arrived at Dorothy’s apartment, she let herself give him a brief kiss on the cheek, to perfect the day.
Databank-Chapter Thirteen
Excerpt Identification File: Pamir Ceskov
Filename: ceskov, [email protected]
Birthdate: 26-2-11239 (Standard Galactic Time)
Birthplace: Crouns / Baleyworld, Starsystem Nemesis / SETTLER
Residence: 3244, West-Side-Plaza
38 HJ 5344 Janus Metropolis / Janus, Starsystem Dionysus
http://uww.dionysus.com/janus/ceskov.pamir.htm
formerly:
68, Junction High
39 HI 1044 Cronus / Baleyworld, Starsystem Nemesis
Occupation: Executive, Janus Metropolis / Janus, Starsystem Dionysus
formerly:
Economic Consultant, Crouns / Baleyworld, Starsystem Nemesis
Vice President Luxus Villa Inc., Witchika / Baleyworld, Starsystem Nemesis
Director of Human Resources, Ares / Baleyworld, Starsystem Nemesis
Characteristics:
eye color: blue
hair color: brown
height: 1.73 meters
Family:
Father: Ceskov, Paul / Fire Rescue Squad, Crouns / Baleyworld, Starsystem Nemesis
Mother: Weddington, Lilli / Housewife, Crouns / Baleyworld, Starsystem Nemesis
Sister: Flanders, Cecille / Archaeologist , Ares / Baleyworld, Starsystem Nemesis
single
Chapter Thirteen
THE NEXT MORNING, when both suns stood high in the Janutian sky, Gordan and Dorothy met in the police headquarters. When entering the office, Dorothy was surprised to see Gordan already behind the desk, studying a pile of sheets in front of him. Calvin operated the computer terminal.
“Hello, Gordan. You are quite early today. Did you sleep well?” she asked.
“Yes, thank you. I could have slept a few hours more, but I wanted to look into these files before we pay Executive Ceskov a visit. But since I just started, I guess I can forget about it. Anyhow, there’s more here than I expected. You must have found out quite a bit on him.” With a swinging gesture he put the files back on the staple.
Dorothy secretly wondered what he would say to her interesting discovery, but didn’t reply. It would be nice to question Ceskov about it personally. She did not want Gordan to rob that amusement from her.
“Coffee?” Gordan asked.
“Please,” she said as she went over to the window and looked at the sunny scenery.
“Calvin, two cups of coffee, please,” Gordan ordered. “And by the way, why do you not greet Mrs. Rudchinson?”
Calvin was already at the food-supplier in the other corner when he answered: “Sir, as Mrs. Rudchinson requested, I will not unnecessarily talk to her. I am only to answer direct inquiries.”
“Oh.” Gordan looked at Dorothy, who did not reply. “O.k.”
Since he did not know what to think of this request, he quickly changed the subject and maneuvered her to the chair at the desk. Dorothy let herself guide voluntarily.
“Come, take a seat. Any pain in your muscles?”
“No. Why?”
“Well, I have. Remains from dancing too long,” he said while touching his tights.
Calvin brought the coffee and then quickly retreated to the computer. That was at least how Gordan would have described his behavior.
Later on, their hoo-cap arrived at the residence of Executive Pamir Ceskov, a nice and widespread domicile in the northwestern sector of Janus Metropolis. The sunny weather converted the front lawn into a field of gleaming gold.
“He must be really wealthy,” Dorothy remarked unimpressed.
“As you have discovered in the databases,” Gordan replied. “He owns qu
ite a few properties on Janus.”
Dorothy nodded briefly and then jumped out of the hoo-cap. Calvin and Gordan followed her closely. A lavish of warmth welcomed them.
Together they walked on the gravel path towards the main entrance. A tall man wearing an unimpressive gray suit opened the door before they got there.
“Can I help you?” he asked in a deep, not-too-friendly tone.
“Sheriff Dorothy Rudchinson and Sheriff Gordan Kresh from the Janus Police Department. We would like to talk to Executive Ceskov.”
Her opposite - shielded by dark, heavy glasses - hesitated momentarily.
“Just a second, please.”
With this, they were left alone in front of the door, which the man had carefully closed again. He eventually returned to accompany them into an elegantly decorated room with some comfortable sofas and armchairs. One of the walls was covered with shelves containing books and book-films. There was a holographer, an easy-access terminal and an antique fireplace.
Gordan and Dorothy sat down on the seats indicated and waited. Calvin remained near the door.
“Well, as I have read between the lines in your files, this Ceskov is not a very communicative person. He obviously enjoys his privacy,” Gordan said.
“Are you implying that this is a strange behavior for a politician?” Dorothy asked with a compressed laugh.
“Somehow I would assume so. Don’t the voters need somebody with a more extroverted character?”
“There are enough of those. And many of them have nothing more to offer than that character.” A man, casually dressed and wearing slippers, entered the room. Dorothy interpreted his rather slow manner of moving around and his equally slow performed gestures as showing a certain degree of arrogance, a characteristic that was supported by his high-pointing nose. Dorothy frowned slightly.
“But not all politicians require an eccentric charisma. Some citizens are actually listening to what politicians have to say. Hello, I am Pamir Ceskov.”
Dorothy and Gordan stood up and shook hands with the Executive. Ceskov glanced at the robot with unconcealed disapproval, but sat down wordlessly. He gestured the two humans to join him.
“Thank you for the reception, Executive. As you have suggested, we are here because of the murder of Executive Philemon,” Dorothy began.
“Yes. A disgusting incident,” Ceskov replied.
Dorothy tried to detect something in his facial expression, but there was nothing. At least not superficially.
“Executive Ceskov, could you please describe to us what happened in the meeting room that day?” she continued.
Ceskov sighed and leaned back in his sofa.
“Well, easy to say. The committee had been discussing a new proposal when the lights in the room went off. Before they came back on, Philemon was dead.”
“Please, Executive! That is not what I meant,” Dorothy said annoyed.
“I am sorry?” Ceskov turned towards her, lifting his left eyebrow in astonishment.
“It would be nice to give us some details, not a second-class summary.”
“A what?” Ceskov stood up and gestured at Dorothy ferociously. “Outrageous! What do you…”
Gordan interrupted him sharply. “Executive Ceskov, please. Sit down. I am sure it was not Sheriff Rudchinson’s intention to insult you. She often sounds rude without actually meaning to. And we need your cooperation in that matter in order to solve the murder of your former colleague. Something we all want to achieve, don’t we? So, please.”
Gordan waited for his diplomatic plea to work before continuing the interrogation. Eventually, Ceskov sat down.
“Thank you. Executive, what exactly happened when the lights went off?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, was there an unfamiliar sound, for example?”
“No.”
“Were the lights flickering, maybe just shortly before they went off?”
“No, not that I can remember.”
“Mmh! Okay, please tell us what happened while it was dark.”
“Nothing I can recall. Everybody was surprised,” Ceskov answered.
“Did anyone say something?”
“No. Well, somebody asked what was going on - otherwise just some astonished utterings.”
“Do you know who said so?”
“I guess it was Executive Learsen.”
“You guess.” Gordan nodded. Ceskov’s brief and vague answers were getting on his nerves. He had to dig deeper. “Okay. Anything else?”
“No.” Ceskov shook his head slowly.
“Then the lights went on again.”
“Yes.” A brief nod.
“That was how long after they had faded?”
“Well, about two minutes or so.” Ceskov crossed his legs in front of him and frowned. Obviously, he had decided that this interrogation was a waste of his time.
“That short?”
“Yes.”
“Executive, what happened next?” Gordan looked at Dorothy, who sat motionless beside him, still clearly offended by Ceskov’s remarks.
“Kunde went over to Philemon, because he did not react to his question. When he touched him, Philemon collapsed.”
“Did you notice anything else of importance?”
“Somebody called security.”
Gordan leaned forward slightly to draw the attention on him, since he could feel Dorothy’s annoyance increasing.
“Thank you Executive. I now have some more questions not directly connected to the murder. How long have you been an Executive?”
Ceskov’s confused expression revealed uncertainty about the purpose of this question.
“Two and a half years,” he said finally.
“As long as the victim, then. Had you known him before you came here?”
“We were in the same party back on Baleyworld - the CPB. So - yes, I did know him before.”
“Interesting. Philemon was a member of the government on Baleyworld, I understand.”
Ceskov nodded briefly.
“What was your position then?”
“I was consultant to the council of transport and communication,” Ceskov explained tonelessly.
“Can you tell me something about Philemon? Something personal?”
Wittingly or not - one could not say - Ceskov delayed his answer a little.
“No. We never met in private, you know.”
With this, Dorothy, who had remained in the background since her first attack on the Executive, came to life.
“You are telling us that you had a business-oriented and otherwise good relationship with Executive Philemon,” she said with a sarcastic undertone. “Isn’t it true, Executive, that you were removed from your position in the financial state department of Baleyworld because of an investigation led by Philemon concerning corruption? Could you please tell us why you are hiding this fact from us, Executive?”
Ceskov’s face turned pale while his eyes burned with anger. Gordan looked unbelievingly at Dorothy, then to Ceskov and back to Dorothy. She smiled in triumph.
Subsequently, Ceskov stood up. “I am sorry, but I have other appointments to attend to,” he said slowly.
Gordan stood up in order to end the interrogation, feeling that further questions now would lead nowhere.
“O.k. I guess that will be it for now, Executive.”
“What about the robot?” Dorothy asked from behind him.
“The robot?” Ceskov asked, annoyed.
“The robot in the meeting room.”
“It was out of order. Useless. Security took care of it,” Ceskov said uninterested. He looked at Dorothy disparagingly and therefore missed the hand that Gordan had extended toward him.
“Thank you, Executive, for your time. But we might possibly have to come again.”
“I don’t like him,” Dorothy remarked on their way back to the headquarters. “Actually, I hate him. He is a disgusting type of man.”
“He does not like you either, I
suppose.” Gordan smiled. “Why did you attack him like that? And why did you not tell me about that possible motive in the first place?”
Dorothy gesticulated annoyed. “Well, I wanted to have the honor of asking him about it myself. Ah, just forget it. That was stupid.”
“So, what about that incident?”
“Ceskov had to resign from the financial state department due to fraud. He had somebody set up enterprises, receive subsidies from the government for doing so and subsequently maneuver the companies into bankruptcy.”
“Certainly a motive for Ceskov to kill Philemon then. Maybe Philemon tried to blackmail him. Honestly, what do you think?”
“Suspicious. Very suspicious. Philemon is responsible for the end of Ceskov’s career on Baleyworld. ‘Consultant to the council of transport and communication.’ That is the perfect position for someone you would want to get rid of.”
Gordan laughed. “Hey - those are important administrative functions.”
“Forget it.”
“Calvin, what is your opinion?”
“I would assume Mrs. Rudchinson’s assumption to be correct, sir,” the robot answered. He had stayed calm in the background, intensely observing the conversation. Obviously, the First Law had forced him to do so, when he had noticed Ceskov’s disagreeing gesture towards the presence of a robot. “Presuming Executive Ceskov to be the murderer, he would have had a simple motive: revenge. From what I have learned about the human character, the desire for revenge is a very intense emotion and can help determine the future behavior of a human being for a long time.”
“Well, that is human, Calvin,” Gordan said, sure that the robot could never grasp the idea of revenge. “What’s important now is that we know Ceskov could have done it. His seat in the meeting room was near Philemon’s,” Gordan concluded. “Well, I propose a double surveillance for him.”