Free Andromeda's Fall (Legion of the Damned) by William C. Dietz Page B

himself, he had no choice but to use the machines placed under his control to get the job done. “So,” Simek said, “give me your report.”
    “It was sent to you electronically,” came the inflectionless response.
    Simek swore under his breath. “You will provide an oral report now, or I will have you recycled.”
    Simek figured that a nonsentient machine shouldn’t care about being wiped. But in his experience, most of the higher-functioning androids did. That was because certain subprograms encouraged the robots to survive. Just as an inborn survival instinct served to protect human beings. So if Fyth wanted to “live,” it would comply. And it did. “I was ordered to find and terminate subject 1012.”
    Simek tapped the number into a keypad. A three-dimensional likeness of an elderly man appeared in front of him. A cloud of white hair seemed to float around his head, a caste mark could be seen on his forehead, and deep lines creased his face. The image began to rotate. “Continue.”
    “His daughter was on Worber’s World,” the machine said tonelessly. “So I went to the city where her house is located and placed it under surveillance. The subject arrived twelve days later, collected his grandchildren, and departed. I followed.”
    “And then?”
    “The subject took the children to a wooded area,” Fyth said. “There was a stream. He had fishing poles for the children. As they dropped lines into the water, I emerged from cover.”
    Simek raised a hand, tapped some keys, and seconds later he was looking at 1012, the children, and the wooded setting through Fyth’s “eyes.” Sunlight sparkled on the water, and it rippled as it flowed past, broke against a rock, and came back together again.
    Ten-twelve had his back to Fyth, but must have heard something because he turned. There was a look of surprise on his face, followed by what might have been resignation. His voice was matter-of-fact. “Ophelia sent you.”
    “The government sent me.”
    Ten-twelve laughed bitterly. “There is no government. Not anymore. Just Ophelia. Please spare the children. They know nothing.”
    “Grandpa!” came a high-pitched voice. “I got one. Come help.”
    Simek watched a pistol come up, and saw the crosshairs appear, as a blue-edged hole replaced the caste mark at the center of the old man’s forehead. Ten-twelve fell over backwards, a child screamed, and the background began to blur as the reticle sought the source of the sound.
    Simek stabbed a key, and the holo imploded. He had grandchildren of his own. Three of them. And there was no need to witness the murders that followed. “And their parents?” he inquired.
    “Dead.”
    “And the cover story?”
    “The pistol used to kill 1012 and the children was found clutched in their father’s hand. Police theorize that he followed his father-in-law to the stream, where he killed 1012 and the children. Then he returned home and turned the weapon on his wife. And himself. A suicide note was found next to his body.”
    “Nice and tidy. I like it.”
    “Of course you do,” Fyth replied smugly.
    Simek felt a flash of anger. “You will refrain from gratuitous speech.”
    Rather than reply by saying, “Yes, sir,” the android was silent. Was that a sign of obedience? Or defiance? Simek clenched and unclenched his jaw. “I have a new assignment for you,” he grated. “Lady Catherine Carletto is, or was, the daughter of Dor and Carolyn Carletto. They were neutralized during phase one of the succession process. Lady Catherine, or subject 2999 if you prefer, was here in Esparto Prime at the time.”
    Simek tapped a couple of keys, and the likeness of a young woman blossomed over the desk. As he spoke, the disembodied head began to rotate. “During the lead-up to the explosion on the fifth floor of this building, she was called away. Unfortunately, all of the people who knew why she was called away are dead. However, there’s reason to believe that someone