“I put in an order for breakfast around the corner,” Taucris said. “It’ll be here in about twenty minutes.”
Ingray rose. “Thanks for our talk.” Still searching for the right thing to say. “I’ll think about what you’ve said.”
E said nothing, only gave a small nod and a brief wave of eir hand. Ingray followed Taucris out into the hallway.
“I didn’t really need you for anything,” Taucris said, when the office door had closed. “It’s the end of a fast day for em and e’s probably got some prayers or something e needs to do at sunrise. Same with breakfast. I could have brought it with me, but the deputy chief can’t eat for another fifteen or twenty minutes. There are allowances for if someone has to work, and the deputy chief doesn’t like to make a fuss, but most times it’s easy enough for me to manage things so e doesn’t have to worry about it. Oh, and breakfast is from the same place that did supper last night. They’re the only place nearby that will make things for the deputy chief without butter or milk, without making a face at you.” She hesitated. “It does mean some extra time sitting with me in my office. I hope you don’t mind.”
“Oh,” said Ingray, with a smile, “I don’t mind that at all.”
13
It was past noon before the committee reached its decision, and another hour before Pahlad was brought out of the cells, once again wearing the green-and-white tunic and trousers e had borrowed from Ingray, the spider mech beside em. Tic—really Tic, Ingray was sure, but Ingray couldn’t ask, not in the hallway outside the deputy chief’s office, or on the walk down to the lobby. “It’s all yours from here, Miss Aughskold, Mx Budrakim,” Deputy Chief Veret said. “I’ve already referred all questions directed at me to the litigation committee.” Through the doors Ingray could barely see the black stones of the plaza through the waiting crowd of news service mechs, and even actual people from the news services, all standing the prescribed fifteen meters from the entrance.
“Goodbye, Deputy Chief,” said Pahlad. “Thank you for having me, the last few days. Everyone was very polite, and your food here is better than what I had in my home district’s Planetary Safety headquarters. And at least Excellency Hevom won’t be getting away with murder.” The committee’s decision not to hand Hevom over to the Omkem ambassador hadn’t been publicly announced yet, though Hevom himself had already been escorted into the Planetary Safety building through a side entrance and would be in a cell within the next few minutes if he wasn’t already. It was only a matter of time before the Omkem ambassador managed to make his objection public.
“I don’t see the groundcar,” said Ingray.
“It’s there,” Taucris replied. She was standing just behind Pahlad. “They’ll have to move out of our way. Even the people will.” Though they could legally come closer than the mechs could.
“It’ll be all right,” said Pahlad. “I’ve done this before. And I suspect that if Ingray hasn’t done this particular version of it, she’s certainly had to face a crowd of news mechs at some point.”
“Not quite like this,” admitted Ingray. “But yes.” Taucris, who was going along with them, wouldn’t have to say anything at all. “Are you ready? Are you sure you want to stop for them?” They could all four of them—Pahlad, the spider mech, Ingray, and Taucris—just walk straight ahead to the groundcar.
“Oh, I definitely want to talk to them,” replied Pahlad, with a smile.
The moment they stepped out the door, the clamor surrounded them, echoing off the nearby buildings so that the crowd sounded larger than it was. Above, bright green and red and yellow against the blue sky, hovered several airborne news mechs, rising and falling on the mild breeze, always just outside the legally allowable distance. After Ingray had been out in the dark all night, and indoors until now, the sunshine felt strangely incongruous, even unreal. The sound of the shouting mechs resolved into comprehensible words. “Mx Budrakim! Mx Budrakim!” And Ingray was suddenly disappointed not to hear her name, even though she had been dreading it the moment before.
“I don’t answer to that name,” announced Pahlad, in a clear, loud voice. E stopped, four steps outside the door, and Ingray, the spider mech, and Taucris stopped with em. “I’m Garal Ket.”
Despite how loudly e’d spoken, none of the news mechs had seemed to hear it through their own noise. But as Pahlad stood there, Ingray and Taucris and the mech beside em, the crowd gradually quieted, shushing each other to near silence. “I don’t answer to that name,” Pahlad said again, eir voice carrying to the news mechs this time. “My name is Garal Ket.”
For just the briefest instant all noise ceased, the mechs motionless but for the bobbing of the airborne ones, the few actual humans frowning, puzzled, and then the Out and About in Urade mech said, “Mx Budrakim!” and the clamor started up again, echoing across the stones of the plaza.
Pahlad—no, Garal, Ingray supposed—looked at Ingray, then back at the crowd of mechs, and began to walk forward, the spider mech close beside em. “Mx Budrakim!” called the mech nearest em. “Did you kill the Omkem Excellency Zat?” Garal ignored it. Taucris stepped ahead to wave the mechs in front of them aside.
“Mx Ket!” called a voice from the back of the crowd, pitched higher to carry over the general noise, expertly aimed to echo off the solid fa?ade of the Planetary Safety building, Ingray thought, and probably turned up just a hair over the legal volume. “Mx Ket, did you kill Excellency Zat?”
Garal stopped abruptly and looked a question at Ingray.
“Arsamol District Voice,” she said, quietly, as all the other news mechs fell hopefully silent.
“I did not kill Excellency Zat, District Voice,” e said, loudly and clearly, for everyone to hear.
“Mx Ket!” cried the District Voice mech again. “We saw a recording of you telling Prolocutor Budrakim that you had never stolen the Budrakim vestiges, that they were frauds from the start. Is this true?”
“It is true, District Voice,” said Garal. “I did say that; the recording that was released is accurate and unedited, at my request. Why don’t you come up front here and walk us to the car?” The few humans in the crowd gave involuntary cries of protest. “Aenda Crav,” said Garal, eir tone mild but eir voice still loud enough to carry halfway across the plaza, “and Thers Rathem, and you, Chorem Caellas, you all flew here from the capital this morning so you could shout questions at me in person, but you can’t bring yourself to use the name I want to go by. None of you can, apparently, except for District Voice here.”
District Voice’s bright orange mech pushed its way to the front of the now-quiet crowd and came stepping right up to Garal. “Thanks for the invitation, Mx Ket. Miss Aughskold. Officer Ithesta. And I take it this is the Geck ambassador to the Presger? Honored to make your acquaintance.”