“Too strong a conscience!” he opined. “Perhaps a little wine would help? Or a euphoric capsule?”
“They can affect me, of course, but I distrust them. I am too likely, afterward, to judge myself harshly. I was designed to be a judge, and I do not withhold judgment from myself.” She paused a moment, then murmured, “Least of all from myself.”
“Is it fair to say you are relentless, unforgiving, capable of very stern action?”
She said, “It is fair, yes. I can do good only by doing my job relentlessly. If my judgments could be escaped or modified, the edicts would become mere suggestions rather than what they were intended to be: a framework by which mankind can turn himself into something better than he is.”
He frowned, forehead deeply furrowed. “Tell me, truly, when you make these terrible judgments, or at any other time, do you feel anything?”
She was taken aback. Still, they had a bargain. It was incumbent upon her to answer as honestly as possible. “When I make a judgment, I always feel I am doing right,” she replied. “If I do not feel it is right, I cannot do it.
“At other times, however, I have other kinds of feelings and I do not know why, or how, or from what source the feelings come. When I am intent upon my work, I am largely unaware of existing as an entity separate from the task. When there is a pause in my duties, however, sometimes I feel sadness or fear or longing for things I have never had, or cannot define. Sometimes I know things, and I cannot find the source of knowing anywhere in my files or my perception systems. I have thought, perhaps, that these feelings come from the human brains that were incorporated into me, but I cannot tell for sure.”
“Ah,” murmured the trader. “What brains were they?”
She shook her head. “I don’t know. I wasn’t informed.”
“Would you like to know?”
She felt the mental equivalent of a gasp, a brief cessation of sense, a network-wide shock. “The HoTA designs and systems for the Questioners are top secret. I incorporate certain technical achievements which have a likelihood of misuse, and COW believes them better kept under lock and key.”
“True. We know when you were made, however, and we know that the HoTA ships went here and there at that time. HoTA ships are quite easily recognizable, and the BIT keeps track of where ships go, and when. If brains were taken from persons who were dying at the time, it could not have been done in total secrecy. Linkages would have been necessary, and there are records … “
“If you could learn who … when, why, I would be prepared to reward you very well,” said Questioner, surprising herself with the sudden spate of interest she felt.
“Your regard would be reward enough.” The Flagian bowed respectfully, took his payment for the recording in Council of Worlds monetary units, repeated his compliments, and departed, staying well away from the snicking grasses and not without a backward glance. Each time he met the Questioner he was surprised that she did not seem more exotic.
The Questioner knew perfectly well what he was thinking. Most people expected something more exotic. To outward appearance, she was simply a stout woman of indeterminate age with a rather large head covered with iron gray hair worn in a bun. She was, however, a good deal more than that. She was enormously strong; she could swim, dive, fly, brachiate, crawl, or climb mountains. She could provide emergency medical assistance and do quick field repairs on a great variety of complicated equipment. She could cook, sing quite well, and compose fairly literary poetry in several languages. She supposed she could fall in love, though she had never done so. Though the senses were there, the stimulus was not.
When the trader’s shuttle took off in a fountain of flung clods and crushed grasses, she set aside all thoughts of him and settled herself into a stable position. With the flask of gravel-data, the newly acquired hopper device, and the probability of two uninterrupted days before her own ship arrived, she could look forward to a period of peace. Her so-called aides were aboard the ship, where they were no doubt plotting to kill one another. Let the idiot captain deal with them. Better there than here.