Curse of the Iris by Jason Fry

shipping lines reached into a carryall and pulled out a stack of currency chips, followed by a bundle of data disks and, worst of all, a folder of actual paper. Yana shut her eyes and sighed.
    What followed was a deep discussion of several somethings, none of which Tycho could understand. The conversation required the teller to leave twice for consultation with a manager. While he was gone, Tycho estimated he heard the snippet of music more than fifty times.
    The woman finally collected her belongings and marched away with an annoyed shake of her head. The teller adjusted his monocle, examined the joints of his left-hand armature, and then lifted his chin at Tycho.
    The four Hashoones stepped forward.
    â€œI understand you have a key card, Mr. . . . Unger?” the clerk asked, staring into the world of data only he could see.
    Tycho retrieved the card from his jumpsuit pocket and held it up. The teller stared into his monocle, then extended a hand encased in metal and wire. Tycho handed over the key card and leaned against the desk.
    â€œCustomers are requested to maintain a courteous distance from the working area of bank representatives,” the teller said.
    â€œSorry,” Tycho said, hastily drawing his arms back.
    â€œBureaucrats,” Huff rumbled.
    â€œYou are Mr. Unger?” the teller asked.
    â€œWell—”
    â€œSince you do not appear to be one hundred twenty-three years old, I shall conclude that you are not,” the teller said.
    â€œHe never said he was,” Carlo objected. “Your stupid AI said that.”
    The teller peered at Carlo. So did Tycho, simultaneously annoyed at his brother for stepping in and relieved that he’d done so.
    â€œNot disagreeing with an incorrect statement is the same as agreeing with it,” the teller said.
    â€œNo, it isn’t,” Carlo said. “If that were true, we’d spend our entire lives disagreeing with each other.”
    â€œIsn’t disagreement a necessary part of a more complete understanding and thus cooperation?” the teller asked.
    â€œSometimes. But other times disagreement is a distraction. For instance, an unhappy customer might say, ‘The service at the Bank of Ceres is horribly slow, and the tellers’ behavior is shockingly rude.’ Another party might disagree but seek to prove the customer wrong by helping him conclude his business in a speedy fashion.”
    Carlo smiled at the teller, and Tycho felt a flash of irritation that his brother’s scar had only made his handsome features more distinctive.
    â€œIf it were not banking hours, I would be fascinated to discuss your example, which is no doubt hypothetical,” the teller replied. “But as you can see, the Bank of Ceres is quite busy.”
    â€œOn this we are in complete accord,” Carlo said with a smile. “Let us therefore move on to cooperation and the matter of this key card.”
    â€œI am glad you have at last decided to use our facilities for a discussion of actual banking,” the teller said. “But I suspect you are not Mr. Unger either, sir.”
    His eyes jumped briefly to Yana.
    â€œAt the risk of making a perilous leap of logic, I will rule you out as well.”
    As Huff growled something, Carlo drew himself up to his full height, though that still left him a good way below the teller’s eyes.
    â€œI am not Josef Unger but Carlo Hashoone,” he said. “This is my brother, Tycho, my sister, Yana, and our grandfather, Huff Hashoone. We are officers aboard the Shadow Comet , registered under a Jovian Union letter of marque, and the key card is our possession as legal salvage.”
    The teller sighed.
    â€œIt appears our discussions have moved backward,” he said. “It sounds like you require the service of an admiralty court judge. Let me direct you—”
    â€œWe are more than familiar with the admiralty courts. Our business is with you—or with