holstered it.
‘Inspector Garp,’ he said.
* * * *
With Argus now set to record only, Salind observed, ‘So that’s how you looked.’
The uniformed police had been in disarray, and let them leave without protest, though Salind wondered what they could have done to stop them with their ex-boss, firmly uploaded to a Golem chassis, there to facilitate matters.
‘Yeah,’ said Garp, ‘ten years ago. Geronamid managed to piece together enough information to have this made.’ Garp touched his face and chest.
They sat in Garp’s car, Geoff in the back holding a med-patch to his head and groaning sporadically.
‘When I looked like this I was the big man who was a royal pain to the Tronad. Callus was my partner until Soper bought him off. I think he slipped praist into my tea.’
‘He won’t be doing that again,’ said Salind.
Garp gave him a slightly indifferent glance. Salind wondered if he was fully aware of the capabilities of the body he now occupied. He’d checked on Callus and the two others while Garp spoke to the uniformed officers. Callus and the one behind the car were dead. The third thug was not far from it.
They dropped Geoff at the Tarjen offices.
‘I’m gonna keep my head down now. Soper is not going to sit on her hands after this.
She’ll want us all nailed to banoaks,’ Geoff said, and with that disappeared inside.
‘What now?’ Salind asked. Without thinking he took out his pill container and clicked out a pill. Garp’s hand clamped on his wrist and the pill fell to the floor. Salind fought the grip, suddenly unreasonably angry.
‘What the hell do you think you’re doing?’ Garp asked.
Salind stared at him. He felt the hairs on the back of his neck rising. He was sure someone was scratching on the glass behind him.
‘I . . . they’re to stop me . . .’
‘I know what they are. How long have you been a user?’
‘Soper dosed me when I interviewed her. Didn’t you see that on the net?’
‘So a few days. She used pure derivative?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Nightmares during the day?’
‘Yes.’
‘I thought so. You’re on fifteen strength. You’re already at the level of a seven-year addict. You’re losing it already.’
‘I’ll get a detoxicant treatment when this is over.’
‘Be sure you do or I’ll off you myself.’
Garp released his hand. Salind picked up the pill from the floor and quickly swallowed it.
The feeling, like a looming wave of black chaos ready to fall on him, slowly receded. Not taking the next needed dose was unthinkable, as briefly he had seen how thin was the veneer over reality for him. Garp started the car and pulled away.
The ceramal mesh fence stood three metres high, carried a killing current and sported beam-break alarms set along the top. Beyond it, banoaks stretched up the hill in neat rows.
Between the rows the ground seemed in constant motion, and in the distance a disc-shaped vacuum harvester, towing a collection tanker, worked its way down.
‘They must have to empty those tankers quite often,’ said Salind.
‘Not as often as you might think. That’s a Massey Vacpress. It sucks up the treels, presses out the juice and shoots the pressings into the tanker - almost pure treelskin.’
As it drew closer Salind observed the waste juice pouring from pipes in the side of the harvester. The machine left the ground behind it completely clear of treels, but there were plenty yet to be sucked up. This had to be the first run of the morning. A driver sat in a bucket seat on the main harvester disc steering it with two levers. He wore blue armoralls and a sphere helmet.
‘Why that gear?’ he asked.
‘The helmet’s to prevent narcosis from the vapour, and it’s their uniform.’
‘Whose?’
‘Soper’s people.’
Salind nodded and wondered what the hell they were going to do now. No way were they going to get through that fence without setting off a mass of alarms, even if they
‘Inspector Garp,’ he said.
* * * *
With Argus now set to record only, Salind observed, ‘So that’s how you looked.’
The uniformed police had been in disarray, and let them leave without protest, though Salind wondered what they could have done to stop them with their ex-boss, firmly uploaded to a Golem chassis, there to facilitate matters.
‘Yeah,’ said Garp, ‘ten years ago. Geronamid managed to piece together enough information to have this made.’ Garp touched his face and chest.
They sat in Garp’s car, Geoff in the back holding a med-patch to his head and groaning sporadically.
‘When I looked like this I was the big man who was a royal pain to the Tronad. Callus was my partner until Soper bought him off. I think he slipped praist into my tea.’
‘He won’t be doing that again,’ said Salind.
Garp gave him a slightly indifferent glance. Salind wondered if he was fully aware of the capabilities of the body he now occupied. He’d checked on Callus and the two others while Garp spoke to the uniformed officers. Callus and the one behind the car were dead. The third thug was not far from it.
They dropped Geoff at the Tarjen offices.
‘I’m gonna keep my head down now. Soper is not going to sit on her hands after this.
She’ll want us all nailed to banoaks,’ Geoff said, and with that disappeared inside.
‘What now?’ Salind asked. Without thinking he took out his pill container and clicked out a pill. Garp’s hand clamped on his wrist and the pill fell to the floor. Salind fought the grip, suddenly unreasonably angry.
‘What the hell do you think you’re doing?’ Garp asked.
Salind stared at him. He felt the hairs on the back of his neck rising. He was sure someone was scratching on the glass behind him.
‘I . . . they’re to stop me . . .’
‘I know what they are. How long have you been a user?’
‘Soper dosed me when I interviewed her. Didn’t you see that on the net?’
‘So a few days. She used pure derivative?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Nightmares during the day?’
‘Yes.’
‘I thought so. You’re on fifteen strength. You’re already at the level of a seven-year addict. You’re losing it already.’
‘I’ll get a detoxicant treatment when this is over.’
‘Be sure you do or I’ll off you myself.’
Garp released his hand. Salind picked up the pill from the floor and quickly swallowed it.
The feeling, like a looming wave of black chaos ready to fall on him, slowly receded. Not taking the next needed dose was unthinkable, as briefly he had seen how thin was the veneer over reality for him. Garp started the car and pulled away.
The ceramal mesh fence stood three metres high, carried a killing current and sported beam-break alarms set along the top. Beyond it, banoaks stretched up the hill in neat rows.
Between the rows the ground seemed in constant motion, and in the distance a disc-shaped vacuum harvester, towing a collection tanker, worked its way down.
‘They must have to empty those tankers quite often,’ said Salind.
‘Not as often as you might think. That’s a Massey Vacpress. It sucks up the treels, presses out the juice and shoots the pressings into the tanker - almost pure treelskin.’
As it drew closer Salind observed the waste juice pouring from pipes in the side of the harvester. The machine left the ground behind it completely clear of treels, but there were plenty yet to be sucked up. This had to be the first run of the morning. A driver sat in a bucket seat on the main harvester disc steering it with two levers. He wore blue armoralls and a sphere helmet.
‘Why that gear?’ he asked.
‘The helmet’s to prevent narcosis from the vapour, and it’s their uniform.’
‘Whose?’
‘Soper’s people.’
Salind nodded and wondered what the hell they were going to do now. No way were they going to get through that fence without setting off a mass of alarms, even if they
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