“Hattie, let me do my job. Concierge wants the deceased unplugged and morgued as soon as possible.”
“Give me two minutes,” Hattie said and continued paging through diagnostic reports. She settled on one that displayed a cross section of Ellen’s brain stem.
Mary stood next to Hattie and said, “Did you find something?”
“Did you, indeed?” said Concierge, who strolled in through the cottage door. “I don’t see anything,” it said, answering its own question, “except use of the controller by unauthorized personnel to input odor. Did it work? No, I see no response.” The tall mentar in its snowy white jacket stopped in front of Mary. “Myr Skarland, in the future, if you find employment in a Fagan facility, please bear in mind that only licensed personnel are permitted to operate clinic equipment. That includes the olfactory sampling port of a hernandez tank controller. Is that clear?”
“Yes, Concierge,” she said.
“I am barring you from this clinic,” Concierge continued. “Please leave at once.”
Neither Mary nor the other evangelines protested, but Hattie said, “It’s not her fault. If it’s anyone’s fault, it’s mine. I’m the one who showed them how to sample odors and told them it was all right to do so.”
“I agree,” Concierge said, “and you shall leave with Myr Skarland. As for you, Medtech Coburn, why hasn’t Myr Starke been de-installed as I requested?”
Coburn quickly removed the wings of the tank lid and lowered the waldo armature into place. Its mechanical fingers immediately began removing tubes and wires from the skull. This got the Blue Team bee’s attention—a machine removing other machines from the prize.
“That’s more like it,” Concierge said. He looked at Hattie and Mary. “Why are you still here?”
Hattie said, “I am entitled to disciplinary protocol, which isn’t initiated until Applied People has received a written complaint from you. Unless you’re accusing us of endangering this patient? Is that what you intend to do? If so, I must say, it will be easy to prove that you’ve been aware of the evangelines’ so-called unauthorized use for days and said nothing.”
Concierge said, “As you wish. I’ve ordered campus security to escort you from the premises.” Concierge went to the door and said, “I am appalled by your lapse of professionalism.” It left the cottage and the door closed behind it.
Hattie, Mary, Cyndee, Alex, and Renata stood in stunned silence. Meanwhile, Medtech Coburn quietly tended to the plucking of Ellen’s skull.
Finally, Mary broke the spell. “Hattie, tell us what you found.”
Hattie shook her head and said, “I didn’t find anything, but Concierge thought I did, so there must be something to find.” Outside, there was the sound of footfalls on the garden path. The door swung open, and two security officers in clinic uniforms, a russ and a jerry, came in. The jerry bawled, “Security! Would Myren Beckeridge and Skarland please step this way.”
The women only stared at him.
“Do it now!” he commanded and extended his standstill wand with a loud snap. This was enough to tip the bee into action. It left the security of the blind spot and crawled to the underside of the ceiling beam.
Hattie, the only jenny present, said, “Officer Jerry, I understand you have a job to perform and all, but are you threatening me with a weapon?”
The jerry blanched. “Nothing personal, Nurse Jenny,” he said and telescoped his wand, “but you and the ’leen have to come with us—right now.”
“No, they don’t,” said another clinic guard who entered the cottage behind the jerry. It was a belinda of a slightly higher rank. “You’ve been reassigned,” she said. “Check your orders.”
The jerry did so and said, “They’re all yours, Lieutenant.” When the russ and jerry had left, the bee crawled back to its blind, and the belinda simply vanished.
“What just happened?” Renata said, but no one had an answer.
THE STARKE CAR set down in the clinic lot, and Meewee and Dr. Rouselle lifted the hernandez jr. tank out of the cargo well and lowered it into the arms of the medbeitor. Man, woman, and beitor traversed the parking lot and turned down the brick drive. When they reached the gatehouse, Meewee ordered the guard, “Drop the gate!”
The guard, a jerry, raised an eyebrow and said, “Excuse me?”
“I’m ordering you to drop the gate.”
The guard turned and called behind him, “Hey, Chaz, come here. You’ll want to see this one.”
A second jerry guard came over and said, “What’s going on?”
“He’s ordering me to drop the gate,” the first guard said, and the two of them had a chuckle. Then the second one said, “Swipe the post, myren.”
Having used up his small reservoir of bluster, Meewee nodded to the doctor and together they swiped the post.
“Myr Meewee,” said the guard, “it says here that you have FDO status, so you may pass. But I’m afraid that you, Dr. Rouselle, have no visitor privileges. And as for that,” he said, pointing to the medbeitor bearing the hernandez jr., “you’d better leave it out here.”
Meewee said, “Call Concierge at once. I demand to speak to it.”
“Speak away,” said the guard. “It’s always listening.”
“Concierge, I demand you let us pass.”
Concierge emerged through the pressure gate and greeted Meewee with a holo salute before turning its attention to the doctor. “Dr. Rouselle, what an honor,” it said, “and surprise. I’ve followed your career with interest. I had no idea you’d returned to the UD.”
“Thank you,” said the doctor.
Meewee broke in. “We didn’t come here to discuss careers.”
“What did you come here for?” asked the mentar.
“We’re here to assist Wee Hunk in removing Ellen Starke from your clinic immediately.”
“This is the first I’ve heard of it. Why hasn’t Wee Hunk informed me?”
“It’ll inform you now.” Meewee turned to the medbeitor and said, “Wee Hunk, tell Concierge we want to remove Ellen.”
The medbeitor projected a life-size version of Wee Hunk, but its image quality was poor, and it flickered. Meewee repeated his request, but the mentar seemed not to comprehend, and Meewee said, “Hello? Wee Hunk?”
“Yes?” said a new Wee Hunk that appeared opposite them. It was not flat or halting, but a solid, coyote-skin-clad Neanderthal in hyper-sharp definition. “Ah, Meewee, good to see you again,” it said. “And look what you’ve brought me, my missing backup. I was wondering where it had gotten itself off to.”
Identification failure, Arrow said.
The medbeitor projection next to Meewee ceased, and the portable tank buzzed for half a second. Wee Hunk said, “Sorry, Merrill, but as I told you this morning, Ellen has succumbed to her trauma. The doctors did all they could, but her injury was too extensive.”
Meewee ground his teeth. “That is bad news indeed, but we’ll see her anyway. At once.”
“Patience, old friend. Let’s let the staff clean her up a bit first.”
Dr. Rouselle peered at the Wee Hunk projection and said, “He is not Wee Hunk?”
“I’m afraid he’s an impostor,” Meewee said. It was time to launch Plan B. He stepped back a little, raised his hand, and brought it down sharply to his side.
Immediately a GOV appeared over the treetops and landed on the greensmoat next to the drive. Its gull wings sprang open, and six deputy marshals in blacksuits trundled out, armed with railgun carbines. A large emblem of the UDJD Marshal Service floated above them, and the pressure gate fell at their approach. They hustled right through the mentars Wee Hunk and Concierge, pausing only to swipe them their writ of habeas corpus. The clinic guards offered no resistance.
Meewee grasped both handles of the hernandez jr. and took it from the medbeitor. Clutching the portable tank to his chest, he hurried to get ahead of the deputies. “This way,” he shouted, skirting the scanway and S-barriers and leading them and the doctor through double doors marked “South Gate Plaza.” From the plaza, he found the path to Mineral Way and jogged past Quartz and Mica cottages to Feldspar.