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DEEDECK DESIGN
Chapter 9
“I’m not suggesting we go public, Delone,” Moira said for what felt like the millionth time, doing her best not to glare at her supervisor. “Giving one man access to accumulating info is not full exposure. He works in security, for the Void’s sake. He’s not going to spill what he knows.”
“You can’t be sure of—”
“And even if he did for some bizarre reason, you could cap it in a hurry. You’ve done it before.”
“We have policies like this in place for a reason,” Delone said in his most severe tone, as he looked down the blade of his nose at her.
She sighed. “I hope that reason does not include allowing your employee to be murdered.”
“That’s a low blow, Moira,” he huffed, his thin features approximating hurt. “We are doing all we can to ensure your safety.”
“Except giving the investigator critical access to information that might save my life.”
Delone’s hawk-like face tightened up again into disapproving severity. “The no-access policy saves many more lives than yours, Dr. Bannen.”
She felt her own face tighten with anger and offense. With her title, he was reminding her that she was in the business of saving lives herself, and didn’t put her own life above that of others. She reciprocated in an acid tone with, “I’m aware of that, Field Coordinator Cranz,” substituting his medical title with what was apparently more important to him. “But you’re assuming Coltier will leak the info…never mind.” She gave up abruptly, no longer able to stomach the bureaucratic hypocrisy. “Has the zone sent you anything new?”
She knew she was being too short with her supervisor, but couldn’t help it. She was used to putting her life on the line for the job, but this was ridiculous.
“You have everything that we have, Moira,” he said in a more conciliatory tone.
She wasn’t in the mood to make up. “Then I’ll get back to work,” she said through stiff lips and cut the connection. Then she propped an elbow on the console and cupped her forehead in that massive clone paw, inhaling deeply and letting it out in a heavy rush.
“Don’t bust yourself, ma’am. You tried.”
“Thanks, Besh,” she muttered, not lifting her head to look at him.
“You want something? They got eats around here someplace.”
“No, thanks.”
“But you haven’t had flop to eat or drink, and you been at it for hours. Gotta keep up your strength. At least let me get you a cup of coffee.”
Moira weighed the lure of caffeine with the eventual end result of a full bladder. She also knew that part of her fatigue was because she hadn’t given the body she inhabited any fuel or fluids. With a grimace of resignation, she raised her head and craned a look over her shoulder.
“A cup of coffee would be great. Does Mr. Coltier have any allergies I need to be aware of?”
Besh grinned. “No, ma’am. He usually takes a triple shot black.”
Moira lifted her eyebrows. “And doesn’t sleep ever again, I’d guess.”
He chuckled, but didn’t comment.
“That much caffeine is bad for you,” she admonished in a limp voice, unable to put much effort into a lecture. “Just regular strength would do it for me with cream and sugar. Thank you, Besh.”
“Happy to help, ma’am,” he said, eyes crinkling at the corners with good natured humor. He turned away and contacted Connie, telling him in low tones to bring back coffee all around.
The com beeped an incoming transmission, and Moira responded with ambivalence. She knew who she wanted it to be, but was suspicious of her own motives for that eagerness. Her suspicions were aggravated a moment later when her stomach flipped over at the sight of Coltier’s glittering dark eyes and grim half-smile.
“Ready to get back in your own body?” he asked as greeting.
She grabbed the edges of the unit to contain her enthusiasm. “They fixed the system?”
“Kreel’s satisfied with the results of the diagnostics. He’s got your TSU quarantined, but has cleared the other transfer units for use. We’re a go to get you back where you belong and get me the hell over there.”
“Thank the Creator,” she whispered, and then raised her voice to say, “We’ll be there as soon as we can squeeze out of this death trap.”
He snorted, mouth twitching with amusement. “Careful, Doc. You’ll hurt my feelings.”
She gave that comment the consideration it deserved, turning in her seat to look at Besh. Before she could open her mouth, he said, “Connie’ll wait for us at the transport. We’re ready to go when you are, ma’am.”
“See you there, Coltier,” she said and ended the transmission.
Squeezing out of the little seat without getting painfully personal with Besh was an exercise in awkwardness. She was grumbling about big male bodies when they finally made it out the door.
“He’s had lots more practice than you, ma’am,” Besh said in a bland tone, but there was an undercurrent of humor in his voice that made her shoot him a sour glance.
“And I mean not to get any more practice, so let’s move along.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Connie greeted them at the airlock with coffee and a terse, “Onboard. Boss wants us there yesterday.”
“For once, he and I are in full agreement,” Moira responded fervently as she took a cup. “Thanks for the coffee.”
They were out of the motel’s port before she’d settled enough to take her first sip. It was dreadful coffee, but she consoled herself with the soothing thought that she’d be out of this body and back in her own very soon. It comforted her enough to brave another sip. Still dreadful. They were shooting past hubs at an impressive rate, but Moira was still wondering if the transport could go any faster when they suddenly slammed into something and went tumbling.
Moira cried out, grabbing the seat supports as the web spun by them in a chaotic whirl of light and dark. “What happened?”
Connie was cursing in a continuous, vicious stream, but Besh said, “Loose maintenance bot,” in a clipped voice. “Came outta nowhere. Think we lost a stabiliz—look out!”
Their spin had begun to slow, Connie wrestling the transport under his control again, when Besh shouted his warning. With a low, guttural snarl of effort, Connie wrenched the transport around in a maneuver that made Moira see double for a moment. That didn’t stop her from seeing the slim bullet of metal streak by them, so close she could almost see the bot’s CPU.
“Creator have mercy,” she gasped, her stomach lurching at the wild whirl of tube lights. “Is that thing attacking us?”
“Yes,” Besh answered with such grim heaviness that her heart stuttered. “Con—”
“On it,” Connie growled, and the transport came about so abruptly that Moira clenched her teeth to hold back a yelp of fear.
Then they were flying down a tube at a fierce pace, weaving and spinning with such reckless energy that Moira had to close her eyes. It only helped a little—she could still feel most of their careless maneuvers, and sensed the dangerous speed. She braced against the seat in anticipation of a horrid crash and bloody, excruciating death.
Besh was on the com, barking demands at someone to control it, shut it down, kill it, blow it up, just do it now. They hit something—a glancing blow, Moira thought, since they hadn’t exploded—and spun out of control for a moment to the cadence of Connie’s curses.
Then a bright flash of light burned through her eyelids, and she raised an instinctive hand over them with a short cry. When death did not enfold her in its hard embrace, she lowered the hand and peeked. Their speed and spin was slowing, the transport station appearing before them like a mirage of paradise.
“It’s over?” she wheezed.
“Yeah, Beta 1 had a bot take out the wild one,” Besh said with a hard breath. He glanced over his shoulder and gave her a solemn nod. “It’s okay, ma’am. We’re okay.” Then he turned away, raising a finger to his ear. “Yes, sir,” he clipped, his form tensing again. Everything about him seemed to come to attention, and Moira had no problem guessing who was in contact with him.
As Besh gave his boss a rundown of current events, Connie maneuvered them into a gleaming port at the station, and Moira felt her muscles loosen with relief to hear the faint, reassuring hiss of the seal.
A man met them at the airlock, the sharp intelligence in his light hazel eyes belying the long, woeful line of his face. Tall and thin to the point of boniness, he was topped by a thick mass of dark blond hair, a strangely exuberant cap to his spare frame. He held out a long fingered, angular hand for her to shake. “Dr. Bannen, I’m Ben Kreel, the consultant that Mr. Coltier hired to look into your…situation.”
Moira shook his hand gingerly, unsettled by how the man’s hand felt frail in the clone’s paw. “Thank you so much for moving things along so quickly. I can’t tell you how much I want to be back in my own body.”
A hint of a smile crinkled the corners of his eyes and lightened the sorrowful length of his face. “I can’t even imagine. I’ve never heard of this happening before. By accident, at least.”
Moira goggled at him for a moment, before she shut her mouth and tried not to blush. It shouldn’t have surprised her that some people had experimented with opposite sex clones. Just because she transferred for business reasons only, that didn’t mean everyone followed suit. “Right,” she said in as neutral a tone as possible. “Um, can we get on with this?”
“Of course. Everything is prepared,” he said as he led her and her entourage down the corridor. “Beta personnel have been cooperative. They are grateful that you’ve volunteered to make the first transfer, before normal operations resume.”
He said it mildly, but she could read between the lines and snorted. “Like I have a choice about being their guinea pig.”
They entered a transfer chamber where two horizontal TSUs made an imposing statement, one closed and one open and empty. A pair of transfer techs waited beside them, eyeing the newcomers with wary faces and nervous hands. Both were female and neither looked familiar to Moira. She wondered briefly where Jaime had gone, but lost the momentum of the thought in the gaping hole of the TSU. The cushioned bed had never looked so ominous before.
She took a deep breath and turned to Kreel. “There’s no danger?”
“All the diagnostics check out for the system. The only malfunction appeared to be in your previous TSU. Its effects on the buffer were temporary.”
“Right,” she mumbled, eyeing the unit with a clench in her stomach and a thumping heart.
“Sir—I mean, ma’am…if you’ll just lie down…” one of the techs said with unhelpful anxiety.
Moira gave her a stony stare and nodded to the closed TSU. “My clone is ready? And in good health?” she couldn’t resist adding in a snide undertone.
“Yes, ma’am,” the woman said with a lowering of her eyes and chin.
With a fretful sigh, Moira turned to her guard. “I’ll see you guys in a bit.”
Both nodded, and Besh said soberly, “We’ll be here, ma’am.”
Feeling her heart jump in her chest, she moved forward and laid down in the TSU, grimacing at the unfamiliar claustrophobic effect. Damn big male body. The top slid closed over her, and she felt the tingle of the neural net on her scalp. “Here goes,” she whispered in someone else’s low voice, and closed her eyes.
Darkness folded over her in a rush.
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