The Dark Lady

files.”
    There was a moment of silence.
    “I am now accessing the Patagonia IV Public Information computer,” it announced.
    It went dark for perhaps twenty seconds, then came to life again.
    “Patagonia IV is no longer a human colony. I am now accessing the Historical Census Files on Deluros VIII.”
    I waited patiently, and at last I had my answer.
    “Jamal, Rafael,” said the computer. “True name: Pedro Santini. Born 4503 G.E., died 4538 G.E. Unmarried, died leaving no heirs, estate finally sold at public auction. Resided until age sixteen on Delvania III, then joined the Balaban Brothers Five-Star Circus, where he worked as a trapeze artist under the name of Rafael Jamal until he lost the use of his legs during a fall on Patagonia IV in 4533 G.E. Left leg amputated in 4536 G.E.”
    “What about his military service?” I asked.
    “He did not serve in the military.”
    “Then he must have seen some military action in an unofficial capacity,” I insisted.
    “That is incorrect,” said the computer. “He went directly from school to the Balaban Brothers Five-Star Circus, and remained there until his accident.”
    “I cannot understand this,” I said.
    “If I have been unclear, I can translate my answer into 1,273 languages and dialects other than Terran,” offered the computer.
    “That will not be necessary,” I said, lost in thought. Finally an idea occurred to me. “Would you please see if Delvania III underwent any military attack or civil disorder during the time that Rafael Jamal lived there?”
    “Checking... No, it did not.”
    “Did the Balaban Brothers Five-Star Circus ever perform on a world that was in the midst of a military disturbance?”
    “Checking... No, it did not.”
    “But it must have!” I said.
    “The answer is negative,” replied the computer. “May I be of any further service?”
    “Yes,” I said. “There are four men: Rafael Jamal, Brian McGinnis, Peter Klipstein, and Christopher Kilcullen. I want you to access their histories from the Historical Census Files on Deluros VIII, and then analyze the data and tell me everything that they had in common.”
    I went through the process of answering the computer's basic questions again, and then waited while it accessed the necessary data.
    “Analyzing,” it announced at last.
    There was a full minute of silence, an extraordinary length of time given that it already had all the data it required.
    “Rafael Jamal, Brian McGinnis, Peter Klipstein, and Christopher Kilcullen all belonged to the race of Man,” said the computer. “All four were males. I can find no other similarities between them.”
    “Are you quite certain?” I asked.
    “I am incapable of error,” replied the computer. “It should be noted that the data on Brian McGinnis is minimal and was accessed from Earth rather than Deluros VIII, but since Rafael Jamal, Peter Klipstein, and Christopher Kilcullen have nothing in common other than their race, and gender, more information about Brian McGinnis would not change my answer.”
    “Thank you,” I said with a sigh of disappointment. Just to be on the safe side, I had it analyze the artists whose paintings were hanging in Abercrombie's house, but it could find no connection between them, neither of military service nor anything else.
    Finally another idea occurred to me.
    “I want you to analyze a painting,” I said. “Is that possible?”
    “Yes,” replied the computer. “Where can I access it?”
    “There is a print of it in a book entitled Britain in Africa: A Century of Paintings, which was published on Earth in 1922 A.D. There are probably many copies still in existence, but the only one of which I am aware is in the library on Pico II. The painting is untitled, but it is the only one in the book by Brian McGinnis.”
    “I have located a copy of the book in the main library of Selica II, where access will be much more rapid and less expensive than Pico II,” announced the computer. “Please stand by while I have its contents transmitted to me.”
    “I will wait,” I said.
    The computer darkened, then lit up a moment later.
    “The painting by Brian McGinnis is now in my memory banks,” it told me. “What facets of it would you like me to analyze?”
    “The woman,” I replied.
    “I can find no data concerning the model's name or identity.”
    “It is entirely possible that she never existed,” I said. “She has appeared in paintings, holograms, and sculptures from all across