vaguely pleased smile slipped across his lips—she knew he could guess what she was going to say. “You
don’t
have to tell me.” She brushed off his hand and walked through the doorway.
SIX
At last, there was a splash of color in the midst of the white, gray, and black expanse that was the Laboratories for Latter Day Defense.
The room into which she’d stepped was tiny, but at least it was red, a gloriously deep scarlet that seared the eyes, tickled the adrenal glands, and made her heart pump with excitement. Really, there was way too little in the world today that had color to it—the ArchMinistry had made sure of that. For an organization that claimed to have come into existence specifically to care for and protect the people, it had effectively sucked the life out of nearly everything in its path and left a trail of dust and death as its aftermath. This tiny room—really, not much more than a hallway entrance into something else she had yet to see—was a reminder of how it felt to be alive, of the vibrancy that had once been the right of every living person on this planet.
She crossed the small expanse of space to where another door waited, marveling that even the floor, a smooth expanse of easily sterilized tile and dark-colored grout, was crimson. Next to the door on the opposite wall was another card reader, and she wasn’t pleased to see that when she raised her ID to insert it into the slot, the flesh on the back of her hand was shiny, the skin covered in a thin sheet of perspiration. Even worse, her fingers were visibly shaking—not good.
Stopping her hand from shaking took an iron act of will and the grim mental reminder that somewhere, certainly, she was being watched and videotaped. She concentrated for the barest of moments and watched her hand steady itself, then pushed her identification card into the slot and spoke. “XPD-154 Clearance Classified Courier.” She’d said it so often it felt like her name. One thing was good, at least: this was the last door.
The response over the digital speaker was immediate.
“Copy, XPD-154. We’ve been expecting you.”
Now this final door slid open, and finally she was walking into the inner vault of the L.L.D.D.
By the time she was taking her third step, she had a massive, heavily armored Medical Commando on each side of her, the kind who’d once populated the rings of the now banned blood sports like boxing and wrestling. These two fell into sync like impeccably programmed robots, matching her footsteps right down to length and timing, never missing a beat. She couldn’t help wondering: if she were taking mincing little steps, would they be forced to do the same? There were at least a dozen more of the Commandos stationed evenly around the room, and while the glare of the overhead lights on their visors made it impossible for her to see their eyes, she could feel each one of them tracking her movement, automatically analyzing her, preplanning how to kill her if the need arose.
But she forgot all that when she saw the briefcase.
The white alloy container waited on a tall, simple white podium in the center of the vault. The case was about the size of a medium pizza box and no more than an inch thick, and it looked like nothing more than a briefcase a businessman might use to take his papers to work. She walked up to it without asking anyone’s permission and the Commandos broke off and stepped back about three feet; for a moment she couldn’t believe that she had finally,
finally
, been able to come this far. Then without warning she staggered slightly.
On one side of the podium was a Combat Reserve Doctor, and he looked at her curiously. With her heart pounding, she made a show of glancing down at the floor and frowning, as if she’d tripped over her own feet. A nice effort, but it didn’t stop him from asking about the stumble. “Everything in order, XPD-154?”
She glanced once more at the floor to hide it when she swallowed, but she
don’t
have to tell me.” She brushed off his hand and walked through the doorway.
SIX
At last, there was a splash of color in the midst of the white, gray, and black expanse that was the Laboratories for Latter Day Defense.
The room into which she’d stepped was tiny, but at least it was red, a gloriously deep scarlet that seared the eyes, tickled the adrenal glands, and made her heart pump with excitement. Really, there was way too little in the world today that had color to it—the ArchMinistry had made sure of that. For an organization that claimed to have come into existence specifically to care for and protect the people, it had effectively sucked the life out of nearly everything in its path and left a trail of dust and death as its aftermath. This tiny room—really, not much more than a hallway entrance into something else she had yet to see—was a reminder of how it felt to be alive, of the vibrancy that had once been the right of every living person on this planet.
She crossed the small expanse of space to where another door waited, marveling that even the floor, a smooth expanse of easily sterilized tile and dark-colored grout, was crimson. Next to the door on the opposite wall was another card reader, and she wasn’t pleased to see that when she raised her ID to insert it into the slot, the flesh on the back of her hand was shiny, the skin covered in a thin sheet of perspiration. Even worse, her fingers were visibly shaking—not good.
Stopping her hand from shaking took an iron act of will and the grim mental reminder that somewhere, certainly, she was being watched and videotaped. She concentrated for the barest of moments and watched her hand steady itself, then pushed her identification card into the slot and spoke. “XPD-154 Clearance Classified Courier.” She’d said it so often it felt like her name. One thing was good, at least: this was the last door.
The response over the digital speaker was immediate.
“Copy, XPD-154. We’ve been expecting you.”
Now this final door slid open, and finally she was walking into the inner vault of the L.L.D.D.
By the time she was taking her third step, she had a massive, heavily armored Medical Commando on each side of her, the kind who’d once populated the rings of the now banned blood sports like boxing and wrestling. These two fell into sync like impeccably programmed robots, matching her footsteps right down to length and timing, never missing a beat. She couldn’t help wondering: if she were taking mincing little steps, would they be forced to do the same? There were at least a dozen more of the Commandos stationed evenly around the room, and while the glare of the overhead lights on their visors made it impossible for her to see their eyes, she could feel each one of them tracking her movement, automatically analyzing her, preplanning how to kill her if the need arose.
But she forgot all that when she saw the briefcase.
The white alloy container waited on a tall, simple white podium in the center of the vault. The case was about the size of a medium pizza box and no more than an inch thick, and it looked like nothing more than a briefcase a businessman might use to take his papers to work. She walked up to it without asking anyone’s permission and the Commandos broke off and stepped back about three feet; for a moment she couldn’t believe that she had finally,
finally
, been able to come this far. Then without warning she staggered slightly.
On one side of the podium was a Combat Reserve Doctor, and he looked at her curiously. With her heart pounding, she made a show of glancing down at the floor and frowning, as if she’d tripped over her own feet. A nice effort, but it didn’t stop him from asking about the stumble. “Everything in order, XPD-154?”
She glanced once more at the floor to hide it when she swallowed, but she
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