Free Imperial Guard by Joseph O'Day

identification. Please verify.”
    A slight, balding man with a weak chin came out from behind a partition and looked Brogan over with the myopic eyes of a long-time administrator. Noting Brogan’s uniform, he asked in a detached and dry tone of voice, “May I see your orders?”
    The private handed over the battered orders written by Captain Darkhow. The official sneered at the paper. “Orders written on paper instead of a scan? How quaint.” He began to read the contents. “Cirrus, eh? Well, that explains it. We don’t get many from there. But that’s just as well, I suppose.”
    Snatching a small scanning device from his desk, he said, “Well, let’s see if we can find where this Captain Darkhow hid the data chip.”
    He ran the device over the page. “Ah, here it is, cleverly concealed in the official seal.” The VO snipped it out.
    “D3366, we have a customer. Come out here and attend to him.” Immediately an ominous egg-shaped object floated out from behind the partition to join the administrator.
    Taking the data chip and placing it in a cavity in the droid, he commanded, “Verify identity and status of subject.”
    A very human sounding, though detached, voice responded. “Subject: Timothy Brogan, citizen third class; Origin: Cirrus; City: Ebinezer; confirming retina and digital patterns now.”
    The droid moved to within a foot of Brogan’s face and extended a smooth, thin appendage containing a visualizer. Snaking the extension directly in front of Brogan’s right eye, the droid intoned, “Retinal patterns confirmed.”
    The appendage whipped out of sight, and a plastic plate twenty centimeters square slid from the nose of the robot. “Please place your right hand palm down on the plate, Citizen Brogan.” Brogan did so.
    “Digital patterns confirmed. Citizen Brogan is authorized for implantation procedure according to Imperial Decree No. 20-196.”
    The official said, “Thank you, D3366. That is all.” The droid turned and rapidly disappeared in the direction from which it had come.
    Turning to Brogan, the administrator said, “Do you wish to have the citizenship implant performed at this time? I have never had anyone refuse. It’s too dangerous these days not to.” The man began to ramble. “I can recall my father telling me how citizens never used to bother unless they were leaving Earth. Now it’s only the frontier citizens who come in without identity implants. My, how times change.”
    Catching himself, he looked at Brogan. “Well, what’ll it be? Implant or no?”
    “I’ll have the implant now. But first tell me why it’s dangerous not to have one.”
    “Very good. D3366, administer the injection.”
    Directing his comments to Brogan he continued. “D3366 will inject a tiny microscan into the skin behind your right ear. While he does that I will briefly answer your question. I’m a very busy man, you know,” he added with obvious self-importance. “You folks on Cirrus are out of the mainstream, aren’t you?
    “Well, when citizens used to carry identity cards, many were stolen. They became quite useless eventually. If a person was clever enough, he could alter both the card and computer record, and the victim became a noncitizen while the thief (or his client) became the citizen. But the implants are much more secure . . . at least so far. Of course, the whole business can get very technical, so I’ll not bore you with details.”
    Noticing the droid move away, he said, “Anyway, the implant is complete, and you may be on your way. D3366, please verify data.”
    “Implant scan readout as follows: Timothy Brogan: citizen third class; Origin: Cirrus.”
    “Very good. Sometimes the body chemistry blocks out some of the information, and we must make adjustments. You may proceed.” The administrator promptly turned away, taking the droid with him.
    To his retreating back, Brogan called out a thank you and passed through the outer door. Unger was waiting for him.
    “I