window.
"Excellent!"
"What next?” demanded the Injun in a surly voice.
"Nothing,” answered 32. “Everything appears to be functioning properly. I assume you have no difficulty hearing me?"
"I wish I did."
"Your surgery doesn't seem to have improved your attitude,” said 32 dryly.
"I don't like having a voice inside my head,” said the Injun.
"That's not all you've got inside your head. Just remember that and we'll get along fine.” The Injun made no reply, and 32 continued speaking. “Now we've got some private business to discuss. Ask the nurse to leave."
The Injun turned to the nurse. “He wants you to leave."
"In a moment,” she said, walking over and checking the readings on the monitors. She nodded her satisfaction, then left the room without a word.
"You've got her well-trained,” commented the Injun.
"She was only there in case your implants were malfunctioning. It could be very disconcerting to wake up alone in a room minus half your vision and with nobody to talk to."
"It's disconcerting just to hear you talking to me."
"You'll have to learn to put up with it, Jimmy.” 32 paused. “Do you see the nightstand to the left of your bed?"
"Yes."
"Open the top drawer and pull out the envelope that's in it."
The Injun did as he was told.
"Now open it."
"All right. It's open."
"Now let's examine all the material carefully,” continued 32. “The holograph on the top is Penelope Bailey at age six."
The Injun stared at the image of a thin, blonde little girl, with pale blue eyes. She looked drawn and tired, and most of the color was gone from her cheeks.
"The next holograph is a representation of the way we think she'll look today, barring extreme overweight or anorexia. We can only guess at the style and color of her hair, of course, but based on her bone structure, this is probably pretty accurate."
"You've wasted your artists’ time,” replied the Injun. “If she's as important as you think, I'm going to have to plow my way through a hell of a lot of people to get to her. I'll know her when I see her."
"Possibly so, possibly not. Even among primitive races, the substitution of an expendable subject for the ruler is not completely unknown. If you run into a woman with brown eyes, or the wrong cheekbones, this may help you."
"Then why the hell do I need a camera in my eye? Either you trust me to spot her or you don't."
"I think you have a chance of reaching her. A chance, not a certainty. I do not necessarily think that you have the skill or intelligence to terminate her without my help—or, quite possibly, even with it. Is that plain enough?"
"Thanks for your confidence."
"Let's be perfectly frank with one another, Jimmy. You accepted this assignment solely because it is the only way you were ever going to get out of your prison cell again, and you doubtless have every intention of reneging on your pact with me if the opportunity presents itself. I chose you because I have lost a number of excellent operatives; you are more adept at deceit and murder than any of them, and you are expendable. Do we understand one another?"
"One of us does,” replied the Injun sullenly.
"Then let's get back to business. The next item is your identification packet. We considered trying to change your retinagram and erase your fingerprints, but there was still the matter of your voiceprint, and if they found too many surgical changes, you'd be a marked man the instant you touched down. Therefore, you will retain your real identity, that of Jimmy Two Feathers, but we have changed every existing database—including the Master Computer at Deluros VIII—to show that you are a naval officer who has been officially attached to our embassy on Alpha Crepello III."
"Just a minute,” said the Injun. “There are a lot of people on both sides of the law who know my name and my face. What about them?"
"You will fly directly from here to your destination. The embassy staff has been informed that you are
"Excellent!"
"What next?” demanded the Injun in a surly voice.
"Nothing,” answered 32. “Everything appears to be functioning properly. I assume you have no difficulty hearing me?"
"I wish I did."
"Your surgery doesn't seem to have improved your attitude,” said 32 dryly.
"I don't like having a voice inside my head,” said the Injun.
"That's not all you've got inside your head. Just remember that and we'll get along fine.” The Injun made no reply, and 32 continued speaking. “Now we've got some private business to discuss. Ask the nurse to leave."
The Injun turned to the nurse. “He wants you to leave."
"In a moment,” she said, walking over and checking the readings on the monitors. She nodded her satisfaction, then left the room without a word.
"You've got her well-trained,” commented the Injun.
"She was only there in case your implants were malfunctioning. It could be very disconcerting to wake up alone in a room minus half your vision and with nobody to talk to."
"It's disconcerting just to hear you talking to me."
"You'll have to learn to put up with it, Jimmy.” 32 paused. “Do you see the nightstand to the left of your bed?"
"Yes."
"Open the top drawer and pull out the envelope that's in it."
The Injun did as he was told.
"Now open it."
"All right. It's open."
"Now let's examine all the material carefully,” continued 32. “The holograph on the top is Penelope Bailey at age six."
The Injun stared at the image of a thin, blonde little girl, with pale blue eyes. She looked drawn and tired, and most of the color was gone from her cheeks.
"The next holograph is a representation of the way we think she'll look today, barring extreme overweight or anorexia. We can only guess at the style and color of her hair, of course, but based on her bone structure, this is probably pretty accurate."
"You've wasted your artists’ time,” replied the Injun. “If she's as important as you think, I'm going to have to plow my way through a hell of a lot of people to get to her. I'll know her when I see her."
"Possibly so, possibly not. Even among primitive races, the substitution of an expendable subject for the ruler is not completely unknown. If you run into a woman with brown eyes, or the wrong cheekbones, this may help you."
"Then why the hell do I need a camera in my eye? Either you trust me to spot her or you don't."
"I think you have a chance of reaching her. A chance, not a certainty. I do not necessarily think that you have the skill or intelligence to terminate her without my help—or, quite possibly, even with it. Is that plain enough?"
"Thanks for your confidence."
"Let's be perfectly frank with one another, Jimmy. You accepted this assignment solely because it is the only way you were ever going to get out of your prison cell again, and you doubtless have every intention of reneging on your pact with me if the opportunity presents itself. I chose you because I have lost a number of excellent operatives; you are more adept at deceit and murder than any of them, and you are expendable. Do we understand one another?"
"One of us does,” replied the Injun sullenly.
"Then let's get back to business. The next item is your identification packet. We considered trying to change your retinagram and erase your fingerprints, but there was still the matter of your voiceprint, and if they found too many surgical changes, you'd be a marked man the instant you touched down. Therefore, you will retain your real identity, that of Jimmy Two Feathers, but we have changed every existing database—including the Master Computer at Deluros VIII—to show that you are a naval officer who has been officially attached to our embassy on Alpha Crepello III."
"Just a minute,” said the Injun. “There are a lot of people on both sides of the law who know my name and my face. What about them?"
"You will fly directly from here to your destination. The embassy staff has been informed that you are
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