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GalacTech property.
The rest was only noise. She shrank into the safety of thing-ness, and stony
silence.
The silence grew thick as cold oil. She nearly choked on it.
 So, hissed Van Atta to her,  that s the way you want to play it. Very well.
Your choice. He turned to Yei.  You got something in the Infirmary like
fast-penta, Doctor?
Yei s lips rippled.  Fast-penta is only legal for police departments, Mr. Van
Atta.
 Don t they need a court order to use it, too? inquired Leo, not looking up
from the bean leaf he twirled between his fingers.
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 On citizens, Leo. That, Van Atta pointed at Silver,  is not a citizen. What
about it, Doctor?
 To answer your question, Mr. Van Atta, no, our Infirmary does not stock
illegal drugs!
 I didn t say fast-penta, I said something like it, said Van Atta irritably.
 Some sort of anesthetic or something, to do in a pinch.
 Are we in a pinch? asked Leo in a mild tone, still twirling his leaf; it was
getting frayed.  Pramod is substituting for Tony, surely one of the other
girls with babies can take over for Claire. Why should the Ops VP know the
difference?
 If we end up having to scrape two of our workers off the pavement downside -

Silver winced at this echo of her own ghastly scenario.
 - or find them floating freeze-dried outside somewhere up here, it ll be
damned hard to conceal from her. You haven t met the woman, Leo. She has a
nose for trouble like a weasel s.
 Mm, said Leo.
Van Atta turned back to Yei.  What about it, Doctor? Or would you rather wait
until someone calls us up asking what to do with the bodies?
 IV Thalizine-5 is a bit like fast-penta, muttered Dr. Yei reluctantly,  in
certain doses. It will make her sick for a day, though.
 That s her choice. He wheeled on Silver.  Your last chance, Silver. I ve had
it. I despise disloyalty. Where did they go? Tell me, or it s the needle for
you, right now.
She was driven from thing-ness at last to a more painful, active human
courage.  If you do that to me, Silver whispered in desperate dignity,  we re
through.
Van Atta recoiled in sputtering outrage.  Through? You and your little friends
conspire to sabotage my career in front of the company brass and you tell me
we re through? You re damn right we re through!
 Company Security, Shuttleport Three, Captain Bannerji speaking, George
Bannerji recited into his comconsole.  May I help you?
 You in charge here? the well-dressed man in his vid began abruptly. He was
clearly laboring under strong emotion, breathing rapidly. A muscle jumped in
his clamped jaw.
Bannerji took his feet off his desk and leaned forward.  Yes, sir?
 I m Bruce Van Atta, Head of Project at the Habitat. Check my voiceprint, or
whatever it is you do.
Bannerji sat up straight, tapped out the check-code; the word  cleared
flashed for a moment across Van Atta s face. Bannerji sat up straighter still.
 Yes, sir, go ahead.
Van Atta paused as if groping for words, speaking slowly despite the jostling
urgency of thought apparent in his tense face.
 We have a little problem here, Captain.
Red lights and sirens went off in Bannerji s head. He could recognize an
ass-covering understatement when he heard one.
 Oh?
 Three of our - experimental subjects have escaped the Habitat. We
interrogated their co-conspirator, and we believe they stowed away on shuttle
flight B119, and are now loose somewhere in Shuttleport Three. It is of the
utmost urgency that they be captured and returned to us as quickly as
possible.
Bannerji s eyes widened. Information about the Habitat was under a tight
company security lid, but no one could work on
Rodeo for long without learning that some kind of genetic experiments on
humans were taking place up there, in careful isolation.
It usually took a little longer for new employees to figure out that the more
exotic monster stories told by the old hands were a form of hazing, practiced
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upon their credulity. Bannerji had transferred in to Rodeo about a month ago.
The project chiefs words rang through Bannerji s head.
Escaped. Captured.
Criminals escaped. Dangerous zoo animals escaped, when their keepers screwed
up, then some poor shmuck of a cop got the job of capturing them.
Occasionally, horrifying biological weapons escaped. What the hell was he
dealing with?
 How will we recognize them, sir? Do they, Bannerji swallowed,  look like
human beings?
 No. Van Atta evidently read the dismay in Bannerji s face, for he snorted
ironically.  You ll have no trouble recognizing them, I assure you, Captain.
And when you do find them, call me at once on my private code. I don t want
this going out over broadcast channels. For God s sake keep it quiet,
understand?
Bannerji envisioned public panic.  Yes, sir. I understand completely.
His own panic was a private matter. He wouldn t be collecting the fat salary
he did if Security was expected to be all extended coffee breaks and pleasant
evening strolls around perfectly deserted property. He d always known the day
would come when he d have to earn his pay.
Van Atta broke off with a grim nod. Bannerji put in a call on the comconsole
for his subordinate, and placed pages for both his off-duty men as well.
Something that had the executive hierarchy pouring sweat was nothing for a
newly-promoted Security grunt to take chances with.
He unlocked the weapons cabinet and signed out stunners and holsters for
himself and his team. He weighed a stunner thoughtfully in his palm. It was
such a light little diddly thing, almost a toy; GalacTech risked no lawsuits
over stray shots from weapons like these.
Bannerji stood a moment, then turned to his own desk and keyed open the drawer
with his personal palm-lock. The unregistered pistol nestled in its own locked
box, its shoulder holster coiled around it like a sleeping snake. By the time
Bannerji had buckled it on and shrugged his uniform jacket back over it, he
was feeling much better. He turned decisively to greet his patrolmen reporting
for duty.
Chapter 5
Leo paused outside the airseal doors to the Habitat s infirmary to gather his
nerve. He had been secretly relieved when a frantic call from Pramod had
pulled him, shaking inside, away from the excruciating interrogation of
Silver; as secretly ashamed of his relief. Pramod s problem - fluctuating
power levels in his beam welder, traced at last to poisoning of the
electron-emitting cathode by gas contamination - had occupied Leo for a time,
but with the welding show over, shame had driven him back here.
So what are you going to do for her at this late hour?
his conscience mocked him. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]