[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
with his accustomed efficiency.
Nothing else disturbed the tranquility of the station until that evening,
when a passerby thought he smelled something unusual in the corridor outside
the lab. Following the odor led to visual confirmation - dark wisps of smoke
issuing from the cracks around Wu's laboratory door. The man yelled "_Fire_!"
and hit the nearest all-purpose station alarm.
This time others reached the lab well ahead of Nearchose. He had to work
his way through the personnel who were putting out the last pockets of flame.
Containment had been achieved before the blaze could spread beyond the
confines of the lab, but the lab itself was a complete wreck. The fire had
been brief, but intense. Not only was there plenty of flammable material
within the lab, but Tsing-ahn had apparently utilized white phosphorous on
stubborn materials and acids on anything that refused to ignite. The little
biochemist had been as methodical in destruction as he had been in research.
Everyone clustered around the few charred scraps of wood that were
scattered around the back of the lab. They were all that remained of the burl
which had been worth untold millions. Nearchose's main concern lay elsewhere,
so it was he who first found the body sprawled under a table across the room.
At first he assumed the scientist had died of smoke inhalation, since there
were no marks on his body. Then he rolled him over and the white cap slid off.
Nearchose saw the needier still clutched convulsively in one hand, saw the
tiny holes of equal diameter on both the front and back of the skull. He knew
what a needier did, knew he could slip a pencil neatly through that hole.
The man's eyes were closed and his expression, for the first time that
Nearchose could remember, was contented.
Nearchose stood up. The pitiable, weak genius below him had run across
something that impelled him to his own death. Nearchose had no idea what that
thing might be and was not sure he would care to know. No man is perfect. An
old sergeant had first repeated that cliche" to him. For all his brilliance,
Tsing-ahn had been less perfect than most. A scrap of note here, a page of
book there were all that had survived.
Employed at the station were a lesser biochemist named Celebes and a
botanist named Chittagong. Together they did not quite make up one Tsing-ahn,
but they were the best Hansen had. They were taken off their projects of the
moment and given the carefully gathered bits of paper and scraps of notebook,
and ordered to undertake the reconstruction of Tsing-ahn's work. Eventually, a
second burl of the type carbonized in the fire was located and brought back.
It was presented to Chittagong and Celebes, who worked with it, while newly
installed security monitors watched constantly, checking everything from the
scientists' heartbeats to the growls in their stomachs. Both men were less
than enthusiastic about the project, especially concerning the manner of their
comrade's death. However, the orders came down from an enraged person at a
large desk many parsecs away. They were not to be disputed.
Nearchose returned to his duties. He sat at his gimbal post and brooded
on what there was in a simple hunk of wood that impelled someone as rational
as Tsing-ahn to go off the deep end. Such things happened, and he need not
concern himself with them. But he could not help it.
Page 36
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
He sighed, and forced himself to turn his gaze and attention to the
surrounding wall of forest.
God damn, but he was sick of green.
Chapter Six
"Ouch!"
Born stopped, looked back at his charges. Logan was hopping awkwardly on
one foot on the cubble, holding a trailing liana for support. Born let go of
the vine-root he was holding and dropped next to her. She sat down, holding
her left leg. She seemed more angry than hurt. Cohoma was studying something
Logan was concealing with a hand.
"What is it?"
She smiled up at him. Beads of sweat were beginning to form on her
forehead. "I stepped on something." She looked around, gestured. "That flower
there- went right through my boot."
Born saw the tiny collection of bright orange thorns sticking up from the
middle of the miniature bouquet of six-petaled lavender blooms. His expression
changed. A hand reached under his cloak and he brought out the bone blade.
"Hey!" Cohoma started to move between them. Born shoved the bigger man
aside. Cohoma stumbled and nearly fell off the cubble.
"Lie down!" Born instructed Logan harshly, putting a hand on her chest
and shoving. She went down, hard, then started to sit up slightly, bracing
herself with her hands.
"Born what are you doing? It stings a little, but?"
He yanked the boot off and she fell backward again, hitting her head on
the wood. Then he raised her leg and held the knife over it.
"Now wait a minute, Born!" Her voice turned panicky. Cohoma had recovered
his footing, took a threatening step toward the hunter.
"Just a second, you misplaced pygmy. Explain?"
There was a warning growl just overhead and he looked up. Ruumahum was
leaning over the cubble just above him, holding on with four legs, the front
[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]