he is in favor of the idea."
She watched him
walk away. Weird damn person . She
started to turn toward the conference room he had mentioned, when her eye
caught an unusual, but familiar pattern. Venway had a very faint web of
filaments at the base of his skull, barely visible through the skin on the back
of his neck. It was the same strange pattern that Mr. Rohm had, a feature that
had puzzled her since she first met the man. And now, Venway too. That couldn't
be coincidence.
One more
mystery. But it can wait. I need some sleep. She found conference room 4 and found that it was, indeed, much more than a
simple "conference room." The bathroom was clean and well stocked,
and there were even sheets for the large sofa positioned beneath the windows.
She closed the
blinds, quickly threw the sheets over the sofa, and stripped off her jacket.
Her head was on the pillow for only seconds before she fell asleep.
It was brief
respite. She was torn from her shallow sleep less than an hour later by the
insistent chiming of her E-Thing. She groggily reached for the device. The
message was from Venway, with a highest priority alert attached.
"Yes?"
"I need you
in lab 27 immediately," he said tersely. He cut off the signal with no
further explanation.
She sat for a
moment, forcing herself to fully awaken, gathering together the strands of
conscious thought that had wandered loose during her brief sleep. She pinged
Keith, her second, but he reported nothing out of the ordinary. Mister bug
eyes must want a fresh cup of coffee , she
grumbled to herself. She checked her weapons, left the room, and navigated the
hallways to lab 27.
Venway did not
bother with any greetings when she passed through the door to the lab.
"These men are being tracked," he said, not looking up from the red
man he had lying on an examining table, unconscious. He was slowly manipulating
some sort of hand held imaging device over the body. "Also, none of these
red men are going to live very long. Five years, tops. Yet another dead end on
the road to human development, and no help at all for my purposes."
Angie 6 stood
silently a moment, watching him, not sure what to make of his scattershot
commentary. Focus. No time for distractions.
"Tracked?"
"Yes, a
fairly sophisticated bug implanted under the skin. Whoever these men work for,
they know they are here." He put down his imager and looked up at her.
"This is really going to cause an enormous amount of grief for me."
"Can you
remove the trackers?"
"Sure, but
it's probably too late. In fact… wait… ah, the drones are sending an
alert."
At that moment a
series of muffled thumps rumbled through the building.
"Yes,
definitely too late," Venway said, as his eyes tracked over to a screen on
the far wall. Angie 6 could see the screen from an angle, and caught the
movements of masked people running, lights flashing, red text jumping to the
fore.
She reflexively
reached for her gun and bounded toward the door. As she gripped the door
handle, she paused a second and turned back to Venway. "Hide
yourself," she said.
He looked at her,
no emotion visible in his eyes.
Angie 6 sprinted
down the darkened hall toward the noise. She tugged her optical mask over her
eyes as she ran and rolled her finger across the pressure switch that turned it
on. She had nearly reached the double doors leading to the room where the two
other red men were being held when a rending concussion blew the doors off
their hinges. She stumbled to one knee, reflexively covering her head.
She crawled
against the wall to her right and dropped flat on the floor. With shaking hands
she aimed her .40 caliber pistol toward the remains of the doorway. The laser
sight cast a web of light through the smoke billowing into the hallway.
Two men emerged — large, masked
— with weapons drawn. They glanced both ways down the hallway. One
pointed the direction Angie 6 had just traveled, toward lab 27.
The roar of her
gun echoed down the hall as she
She watched him
walk away. Weird damn person . She
started to turn toward the conference room he had mentioned, when her eye
caught an unusual, but familiar pattern. Venway had a very faint web of
filaments at the base of his skull, barely visible through the skin on the back
of his neck. It was the same strange pattern that Mr. Rohm had, a feature that
had puzzled her since she first met the man. And now, Venway too. That couldn't
be coincidence.
One more
mystery. But it can wait. I need some sleep. She found conference room 4 and found that it was, indeed, much more than a
simple "conference room." The bathroom was clean and well stocked,
and there were even sheets for the large sofa positioned beneath the windows.
She closed the
blinds, quickly threw the sheets over the sofa, and stripped off her jacket.
Her head was on the pillow for only seconds before she fell asleep.
It was brief
respite. She was torn from her shallow sleep less than an hour later by the
insistent chiming of her E-Thing. She groggily reached for the device. The
message was from Venway, with a highest priority alert attached.
"Yes?"
"I need you
in lab 27 immediately," he said tersely. He cut off the signal with no
further explanation.
She sat for a
moment, forcing herself to fully awaken, gathering together the strands of
conscious thought that had wandered loose during her brief sleep. She pinged
Keith, her second, but he reported nothing out of the ordinary. Mister bug
eyes must want a fresh cup of coffee , she
grumbled to herself. She checked her weapons, left the room, and navigated the
hallways to lab 27.
Venway did not
bother with any greetings when she passed through the door to the lab.
"These men are being tracked," he said, not looking up from the red
man he had lying on an examining table, unconscious. He was slowly manipulating
some sort of hand held imaging device over the body. "Also, none of these
red men are going to live very long. Five years, tops. Yet another dead end on
the road to human development, and no help at all for my purposes."
Angie 6 stood
silently a moment, watching him, not sure what to make of his scattershot
commentary. Focus. No time for distractions.
"Tracked?"
"Yes, a
fairly sophisticated bug implanted under the skin. Whoever these men work for,
they know they are here." He put down his imager and looked up at her.
"This is really going to cause an enormous amount of grief for me."
"Can you
remove the trackers?"
"Sure, but
it's probably too late. In fact… wait… ah, the drones are sending an
alert."
At that moment a
series of muffled thumps rumbled through the building.
"Yes,
definitely too late," Venway said, as his eyes tracked over to a screen on
the far wall. Angie 6 could see the screen from an angle, and caught the
movements of masked people running, lights flashing, red text jumping to the
fore.
She reflexively
reached for her gun and bounded toward the door. As she gripped the door
handle, she paused a second and turned back to Venway. "Hide
yourself," she said.
He looked at her,
no emotion visible in his eyes.
Angie 6 sprinted
down the darkened hall toward the noise. She tugged her optical mask over her
eyes as she ran and rolled her finger across the pressure switch that turned it
on. She had nearly reached the double doors leading to the room where the two
other red men were being held when a rending concussion blew the doors off
their hinges. She stumbled to one knee, reflexively covering her head.
She crawled
against the wall to her right and dropped flat on the floor. With shaking hands
she aimed her .40 caliber pistol toward the remains of the doorway. The laser
sight cast a web of light through the smoke billowing into the hallway.
Two men emerged — large, masked
— with weapons drawn. They glanced both ways down the hallway. One
pointed the direction Angie 6 had just traveled, toward lab 27.
The roar of her
gun echoed down the hall as she
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