Misfits by Steve Miller, Sharon Lee and Steve Miller Page B
Authors: Steve Miller, Sharon Lee and Steve Miller
Ads: Link
posture non-argumentative. "By your direction I follow
the Scout's necessity. And the station's--am I not to preserve the
function of the monitor?"
"Liz Lizardi is a combatant, as is the
operator of the equipment. You should not be carrying messages of a
tactical nature for the Scout from Lizardi!"
The chief spun, paced; he stared at the
monitors with their images of smoke-streaked atmosphere.
"Am I," Brunner asked carefully, "relieved
of the command to follow the Scout's orders? The equipment on-world
was supplied for our use by the Scout."
Abruptly, the chief sat behind his desk,
still if not at ease. He closed his eyes, and spoke softly,
enunciating each word with great care.
"Until such time as we are able to assign an
assistant for you, you will record any and all activity within the
laboratory, you will forward the text of any and all communications
with the ground, with the Lunatics, as soon as it is completed. I
have found a dozen or more conversations you've had with that
soldier in the files, contacts you've never mentioned.…"
Brunner bowed, keeping the wave of
frustrated confusion in check with an effort. This conversation was
far too similar to the senseless interrogations regarding melant'i,
proper conduct, and "civilized behavior" that his halfling self had
endured from delm and nadelm to be borne with true calmness.
"It is as you say, Chief. The conversations
were brief and part of the record. It seems--… profitable--… to be
in touch with the one operating the unit, and in fact to ascertain
that the operator is intact enough to operate it properly. The unit
is in a war zone, and I am told I am responsible for it!"
The chief opened his eyes.
"I see. In fact, your motives are pure and
your thought wise." He took a hard breath. "Allow me to be
specific. Do forward messages as they occur. Do not initiate any
conversation with the ground which are not in response to their
queries or actual operational necessity. Do not contact any other
ground units or respond to any outside requests for information;
all such must go through my office. Do not argue with the Scout,
but if he gives you further instructions, report them to me for
clarity before carrying them out."
Brunner bowed again and turned to--
"Brunner--" The chief called him back.
"Maybe you don't understand your situation--the precarious
situation of this station with regard to the--… situation on the
planet. As a result of the Scout's declaration of quarantine, the
so-called legitimate planetary government has vanished, giving rise
to two entities who now claim to be in control. A third has
announced its willingness--and ability--to destroy ‘all interlopers
in the system.' At one point this was a civilized world and they
had means to back that threat up. A space station, as I am sure I
don't need to tell you, is a very, very vulnerable habitat."
Brunner bowed once more, speechless. The
chief collapsed against the back of his chair, boneless with
emotion and waved an incoherent hand.
"Go!"
* * *
Redhead shut the Stubbs down and pushed up
off her knees. Skel looked 'round from where he'd been watching for
her, his face black with ash.
"Get 'im?"
"Just static. I think that roll down the
hill might've shook something loose," she said, pulling the
now-familiar burden up over her shoulders, and settling it with a
wince. Truth told, that tumble hadn't done her a lot of good,
either. Skel'd wrapped the ribs for her, but there wasn't much else
to do about the bruises and contact burns than ignore 'em.
"Best let's catch up," she said. "I'll try
again tonight."
* * *
There was activity in the Chilongan isthmus.
Heavy equipment working between the mismatched sea walls. Brunner
upped the magnification, trying to see what they were about,
conscientiously recording to the planetologist's queue.
Could they be digging? he wondered. But
what--
Alarms went off, not just in his lab but all
over the station, raucous noise bouncing against walls and
the Scout's necessity. And the station's--am I not to preserve the
function of the monitor?"
"Liz Lizardi is a combatant, as is the
operator of the equipment. You should not be carrying messages of a
tactical nature for the Scout from Lizardi!"
The chief spun, paced; he stared at the
monitors with their images of smoke-streaked atmosphere.
"Am I," Brunner asked carefully, "relieved
of the command to follow the Scout's orders? The equipment on-world
was supplied for our use by the Scout."
Abruptly, the chief sat behind his desk,
still if not at ease. He closed his eyes, and spoke softly,
enunciating each word with great care.
"Until such time as we are able to assign an
assistant for you, you will record any and all activity within the
laboratory, you will forward the text of any and all communications
with the ground, with the Lunatics, as soon as it is completed. I
have found a dozen or more conversations you've had with that
soldier in the files, contacts you've never mentioned.…"
Brunner bowed, keeping the wave of
frustrated confusion in check with an effort. This conversation was
far too similar to the senseless interrogations regarding melant'i,
proper conduct, and "civilized behavior" that his halfling self had
endured from delm and nadelm to be borne with true calmness.
"It is as you say, Chief. The conversations
were brief and part of the record. It seems--… profitable--… to be
in touch with the one operating the unit, and in fact to ascertain
that the operator is intact enough to operate it properly. The unit
is in a war zone, and I am told I am responsible for it!"
The chief opened his eyes.
"I see. In fact, your motives are pure and
your thought wise." He took a hard breath. "Allow me to be
specific. Do forward messages as they occur. Do not initiate any
conversation with the ground which are not in response to their
queries or actual operational necessity. Do not contact any other
ground units or respond to any outside requests for information;
all such must go through my office. Do not argue with the Scout,
but if he gives you further instructions, report them to me for
clarity before carrying them out."
Brunner bowed again and turned to--
"Brunner--" The chief called him back.
"Maybe you don't understand your situation--the precarious
situation of this station with regard to the--… situation on the
planet. As a result of the Scout's declaration of quarantine, the
so-called legitimate planetary government has vanished, giving rise
to two entities who now claim to be in control. A third has
announced its willingness--and ability--to destroy ‘all interlopers
in the system.' At one point this was a civilized world and they
had means to back that threat up. A space station, as I am sure I
don't need to tell you, is a very, very vulnerable habitat."
Brunner bowed once more, speechless. The
chief collapsed against the back of his chair, boneless with
emotion and waved an incoherent hand.
"Go!"
* * *
Redhead shut the Stubbs down and pushed up
off her knees. Skel looked 'round from where he'd been watching for
her, his face black with ash.
"Get 'im?"
"Just static. I think that roll down the
hill might've shook something loose," she said, pulling the
now-familiar burden up over her shoulders, and settling it with a
wince. Truth told, that tumble hadn't done her a lot of good,
either. Skel'd wrapped the ribs for her, but there wasn't much else
to do about the bruises and contact burns than ignore 'em.
"Best let's catch up," she said. "I'll try
again tonight."
* * *
There was activity in the Chilongan isthmus.
Heavy equipment working between the mismatched sea walls. Brunner
upped the magnification, trying to see what they were about,
conscientiously recording to the planetologist's queue.
Could they be digging? he wondered. But
what--
Alarms went off, not just in his lab but all
over the station, raucous noise bouncing against walls and
Similar Books
