not to answer a question with a question, but in the adult world and the era of avoidance methods, that tactic was always good for buying time.
“No.” She could almost hear the sneer that crept into his voice, an
I’m so much better than you
attitude that he could barely conceal. “It’s highly classified. But I’ve been cleared to debrief you because your consciousness of the gravity of this situation may increase your motivation to complete.”
“I’ve
never
failed to complete.” This time she made sure the irritation was clear in her voice. They needed to know that even the implication of her failing was an insult.
“And that is no doubt a significant factor in why you were chosen,” he said in an almost soothing tone of voice. Apparently he had decided it was worth it not to piss her off. “However, it’s of critical importance to every uninfected human on earth that you not fail
this
time, either.” He slowed his pace so that he fell into step at her side; she risked a glance in his direction, but so far he was impossible to read. He was just a white face, as emotionless as a marble statue, floating on the air above a moving black suit.
“The Hemophages are a dying species, on the verge of nonexistence,” he told her. There might have been the faintest trace of triumph in his tone. “Under the supervision of Vice-Cardinal Daxus at the ArchMinistry, we’ve developed a weapon that will push them past that verge . . . and into extinction.”
This was finally interesting, and she raised one eyebrow as she kept up the pace alongside him. “If this weapon’s so important, why not have it delivered by armored convoy?”
“The armored convoy to which you refer is leaving the facility as we speak,” he said. A self-satisfied smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. Still, despite his lecture about the importance of this mission, the Chief of Research sounded about as excited over this as a bored computer science teacher in front of a roomful of sleepy students. “The Hemophages will do everything in their power to stop and immobilize it.” For the first time, she saw his smile widen to where it was actually noticeable. “It is, of course, a decoy. Our statisticians have calculated that our best chance of delivery lies in reliance on a single person . . . such as yourself.”
She nodded but said nothing. The corridor, with its row after row of biohazard tiles, was beginning to seem endless.
“May I ask you another question?” the Chief asked again, Without waiting for her to answer, he threw out the next query. “What is your opinion of the Hemophages?”
“I’m apolitical,” she said flatly.
“Recoiling at the sight of a cockroach is also apolitical.”
Now she did turn her head in his direction. Her brow furrowed as she tried to understand what he meant. “I’m sorry?”
“A cock—” He paused. “Never mind.” When she still looked bewildered, he shrugged. “Extinct insect,” he explained. “We wiped them out, too. Severely damaged the ecosystem, but . . .” He waved off the rest of his words and finally paused at a door on his right. Without bothering to finish his tale, he pulled a keycard from his pocket and swiped it through the scan box on the wall. The door opened with the same odd
swoosh
that the one back at the scanner had made, but he made no move to step forward. “My clearance ends here,” he told her instead, and extended his arm in a go-ahead gesture.
She didn’t bother to say good-bye as she started to step over the threshold, but before she could do so, the Chief of Research had snapped on a latex glove and grabbed her by the arm. “XPD-154.” Something in the way he said it made her pause and look back at him. “You’ll be receiving a case containing the weapon. I don’t have to tell you that under no circumstances should you open it.”
She looked at him blankly for a moment. “You’re right,” she said in a voice just as emotionless as his. A
“No.” She could almost hear the sneer that crept into his voice, an
I’m so much better than you
attitude that he could barely conceal. “It’s highly classified. But I’ve been cleared to debrief you because your consciousness of the gravity of this situation may increase your motivation to complete.”
“I’ve
never
failed to complete.” This time she made sure the irritation was clear in her voice. They needed to know that even the implication of her failing was an insult.
“And that is no doubt a significant factor in why you were chosen,” he said in an almost soothing tone of voice. Apparently he had decided it was worth it not to piss her off. “However, it’s of critical importance to every uninfected human on earth that you not fail
this
time, either.” He slowed his pace so that he fell into step at her side; she risked a glance in his direction, but so far he was impossible to read. He was just a white face, as emotionless as a marble statue, floating on the air above a moving black suit.
“The Hemophages are a dying species, on the verge of nonexistence,” he told her. There might have been the faintest trace of triumph in his tone. “Under the supervision of Vice-Cardinal Daxus at the ArchMinistry, we’ve developed a weapon that will push them past that verge . . . and into extinction.”
This was finally interesting, and she raised one eyebrow as she kept up the pace alongside him. “If this weapon’s so important, why not have it delivered by armored convoy?”
“The armored convoy to which you refer is leaving the facility as we speak,” he said. A self-satisfied smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. Still, despite his lecture about the importance of this mission, the Chief of Research sounded about as excited over this as a bored computer science teacher in front of a roomful of sleepy students. “The Hemophages will do everything in their power to stop and immobilize it.” For the first time, she saw his smile widen to where it was actually noticeable. “It is, of course, a decoy. Our statisticians have calculated that our best chance of delivery lies in reliance on a single person . . . such as yourself.”
She nodded but said nothing. The corridor, with its row after row of biohazard tiles, was beginning to seem endless.
“May I ask you another question?” the Chief asked again, Without waiting for her to answer, he threw out the next query. “What is your opinion of the Hemophages?”
“I’m apolitical,” she said flatly.
“Recoiling at the sight of a cockroach is also apolitical.”
Now she did turn her head in his direction. Her brow furrowed as she tried to understand what he meant. “I’m sorry?”
“A cock—” He paused. “Never mind.” When she still looked bewildered, he shrugged. “Extinct insect,” he explained. “We wiped them out, too. Severely damaged the ecosystem, but . . .” He waved off the rest of his words and finally paused at a door on his right. Without bothering to finish his tale, he pulled a keycard from his pocket and swiped it through the scan box on the wall. The door opened with the same odd
swoosh
that the one back at the scanner had made, but he made no move to step forward. “My clearance ends here,” he told her instead, and extended his arm in a go-ahead gesture.
She didn’t bother to say good-bye as she started to step over the threshold, but before she could do so, the Chief of Research had snapped on a latex glove and grabbed her by the arm. “XPD-154.” Something in the way he said it made her pause and look back at him. “You’ll be receiving a case containing the weapon. I don’t have to tell you that under no circumstances should you open it.”
She looked at him blankly for a moment. “You’re right,” she said in a voice just as emotionless as his. A
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