"Yes, I understand, you really can't tell me, but if it was Gregor's upcoming matrimonial project—maybe he was editing out things for your benefit, on the fly or something."

"If he didn't trust me, he shouldn't have had me there at all," snapped Galeni. He added reluctantly, "It's a good theory. But it doesn't quite . . . I wish you had been there."

Miles set his teeth against the obvious quips. "What are you suggesting?"

"I don't know. ImpSec spent quite a lot of money and time training me as an analyst. I look for changes in patterns. This is one. But I'm the new face in town, and a Komarran to boot. You've known Illyan all your life. Have you seen this before?"

"No," Miles admitted. "But those all sound like normal human errors."

"If they'd been more spread out, I doubt I'd have noticed. I don't need—or want—to know details, but is Illyan under any special strain in his personal life right now, that none of us in the office know about?"

Like you are, Duv? "I don't think Illyan has a personal life. Never married . . . lived in the same little apartment six blocks from work for fifteen years, till they tore the building down. He moved into one of the witness apartments on the lower level of HQ as a temporary stopgap two years ago, and still hasn't bothered to move out. I don't know about his early life, but there haven't been any women lately. Nor men, either. Nor sheep. Though I suppose I could see sheep. They can't talk, even under fast-penta. That's a joke," he added, as Galeni failed to smile. "Illyan's life is regular as a clock. He likes music . . . never dances . . . notices perfumes, and flowers with a lot of scent, and odors generally. It's a form of sensory input that isn't routed through his chip. I don't think it does somatic stuff either, no touch, just audio and visual."

"Yes. I was wondering about that chip. Do you know anything about that supposed chip-induced psychosis?"

"I don't think it can be the chip. I don't know that much about its tech specs, but all those folks were supposed to have gone wonky within a year or two of its installation. If Illyan was going to go nuts, he should have done it decades ago." Miles hesitated. "One does wonder about . . . stress? Ministrokes? He's sixty-plus . . . hell, maybe he's just tired. He's had that damned job for thirty years. I know he was planning to retire in five years." Miles decided not to explain how he knew that.

"I cannot imagine ImpSec without Illyan. The two are synonyms."

"I'm not sure he actually likes his job. He's just very good at it. He's had so much experience, he's almost impossible to surprise. Or panic."