“That would make you a valuable asset.” Derek closed his eyes and shook his head. He clearly felt some sympathy for the AI. “It’s been a long time, but the important thing is that you are still functioning.”

“I expect to continue for an extended period. I have a power source, as I’m sure you can see. And two robots to assist me. But let me admit to you that I am quite pleased at your arrival. It is good to have someone to talk to.”

“I assume, otherwise, you’ve been alone since the withdrawal?”

“Not entirely. I’ve maintained a limited level of communication with Bellavi, the other offworld source. She is situated in a balanced gravity field created by Tarka and the sun. Also, for an extended period, I was able to communicate with a station on the planetary surface, in Masseray, but unfortunately, it was apparently tracked down and disconnected. I received a report that it had been wrecked in a tornado. But if that was true, they made no effort to restore it.”

“Korquit, is your personality programmed to resemble that of the people who built you?”

“No. My designers intended that I be a rational entity.”

That didn’t sound good. “Your designers sound highly intelligent. We are interested in making contact with them. Can you help us?”

“I say again, I have not conversed with them in a long time. I do not see how I can be of assistance. In any case, they are biofeeds, like the others. You would not find it a useful investment of your time.”

“Is there someone you could put us in touch with?”

“I can provide a frequency that would allow you to speak with the operations center at the Global Cultural Administration. Would that suffice?”

“Yes. That would be excellent.”

Barry broke in: “Be aware: my translation of the name of the administrative unit is a shot in the dark.”

Then Barry acting again as translator: “I do not recommend conversing with them. But if you wish, I believe you will find them at 33.7—”

Barry again: “I could not translate the term with which he finished, but it is most likely 33.7 megahertz.”

“I got it,” said Derek. “Thanks, Korquit.” He looked around at his colleagues. “Anybody have a question?”

Beth had one: “What kind of life span do the people on this world have? On average?”

“If you could discount those killed by running cars off roads and exposing themselves to various forms of diseases, they usually live about 2,200 lunar orbits.”

Ken was next: “Do the Tarkans, the inhabitants, maintain a history of their political development? Scientific achievements? That sort of thing?”

“Oh, yes. They have persons who spend their lives recording and interpreting events.”

“Have you by any chance access to any of these histories? Anything you could pass to us?”

“Sadly, I do not.”

“Could you ask them to forward one or more to you? Something you could transfer to us?”