happened…
Admiral Jeffrey Lawson was downing a quick cup of java while he waited for the first report from Terramer. His lined face showed the effects of only an hour’s sleep. He was impatient for news; for confirmation that it had been Holt Stern’s crew that the Holconcom had rescued.
He got up and paced the dim confines of his office. His mind stillbalked at the idea that Chacon had led the merciless attack. The wily Rojok commander-in-chief’s code of honor in battle was legendary. An attack on a defenseless colony of clones was hardly in keeping with that reputation. Mangus Lo would be capable of such an atrocity, but would Chacon submit to an order that conflicted with his code of ethics? Lawson shook his head. Perhaps the patrol he’d sent to Terramer could provide some answers.
“Sir!”
The sound of his adjutant’s voice froze him in thought.
“Yes, lad?” He activated the automatic door and strode quickly into the outer office. “Any word?”
“Yes, sir.” The automatic comtech translated the message as it began to come in on the intersystem scanner. “The scouts report fatal magnabeam radiation blanketing the planet now. All the casualties seem to have been removed. The patrol’s just beginning to search the area. Sir, they have found one thing in the wreckage of the sci-archaeo ship—carefully hidden inside a bulkhead.”
“Well, what it is, boy?” Lawson demanded when the younger man hesitated and grimaced.
“A body, sir,” he said reluctantly.
“Only one?” Lawson’s brows drew together. “Can they give us an ID?”
The adjutant sighed and lifted his eyes to Lawson’s. “Yes, sir. The officer in charge knew the victim personally. Positive ID. The body, sir…it was Captain Holt Stern.”
6
Hahnson’s scowl was the darkest Madeline Ruszel had ever seen on his face. He was alone in his office, beyond the closed and soundproofed hyperglas door behind which Holt Stern lay in an ambutube.
“You’ve been corrupting Centaurians,” she told Hahnson.
He shrugged. “Only Komak. We could call it improving his education in Terravegan slang,” he replied. He folded his arms across his chest, his expression worried. “Look at this, Maddie.”
She moved to his side and looked at the diagnostic screen. In seconds she was scowling, as well.
“That’s what I was afraid of,” she said quietly. “I ran the same scans and came to the same conclusion. Stern,” she added, meeting his eyes, “is definitely not himself.”
He nodded.
“You aren’t trying to pacify me, are you?” she queried, used to arguments from her colleague. “I haven’t gone space-happy.”
“I know that,” he said. “I matched his bioscans from a month ago to these new ones and got the same result you did. The change is too radical to be natural. Someone has altered Stern’s mental patterns.”
“Yes,” she agreed, lowering her voice. “Does he know, do you think?”
He nodded. “Let’s say, he suspects. It’s an amazing alteration, too,” he agreed reluctantly. “There are no definite signs of tampering except for the rogue cells and the bioscan patterns. If we’d been less detailed physicians, we’d never even have suspected. He seems perfectly normal most of the time.”
Madeline glanced at him and wanted, so badly, to tell him what she suspected about Muldoon. But she didn’t dare. Now that she knew the Morcai carried AVBDs, she couldn’t risk it.
“Strick, you don’t think he’s a clone?” she asked suddenly, and felt such a sense of loss that her eyes almost watered.
He gnawed on his lower lip. His broad shoulders moved uncomfortably. “I don’t know.”
“You suspect something,” she persisted.
He drew in a painful breath. “It wouldn’t serve Rojok purposes to leave the original alive if they deliberately replaced Stern. But we have no proof of that, remember? It may be just what it seems—a strange pattern due to a head injury.”
She folded her arms
Admiral Jeffrey Lawson was downing a quick cup of java while he waited for the first report from Terramer. His lined face showed the effects of only an hour’s sleep. He was impatient for news; for confirmation that it had been Holt Stern’s crew that the Holconcom had rescued.
He got up and paced the dim confines of his office. His mind stillbalked at the idea that Chacon had led the merciless attack. The wily Rojok commander-in-chief’s code of honor in battle was legendary. An attack on a defenseless colony of clones was hardly in keeping with that reputation. Mangus Lo would be capable of such an atrocity, but would Chacon submit to an order that conflicted with his code of ethics? Lawson shook his head. Perhaps the patrol he’d sent to Terramer could provide some answers.
“Sir!”
The sound of his adjutant’s voice froze him in thought.
“Yes, lad?” He activated the automatic door and strode quickly into the outer office. “Any word?”
“Yes, sir.” The automatic comtech translated the message as it began to come in on the intersystem scanner. “The scouts report fatal magnabeam radiation blanketing the planet now. All the casualties seem to have been removed. The patrol’s just beginning to search the area. Sir, they have found one thing in the wreckage of the sci-archaeo ship—carefully hidden inside a bulkhead.”
“Well, what it is, boy?” Lawson demanded when the younger man hesitated and grimaced.
“A body, sir,” he said reluctantly.
“Only one?” Lawson’s brows drew together. “Can they give us an ID?”
The adjutant sighed and lifted his eyes to Lawson’s. “Yes, sir. The officer in charge knew the victim personally. Positive ID. The body, sir…it was Captain Holt Stern.”
6
Hahnson’s scowl was the darkest Madeline Ruszel had ever seen on his face. He was alone in his office, beyond the closed and soundproofed hyperglas door behind which Holt Stern lay in an ambutube.
“You’ve been corrupting Centaurians,” she told Hahnson.
He shrugged. “Only Komak. We could call it improving his education in Terravegan slang,” he replied. He folded his arms across his chest, his expression worried. “Look at this, Maddie.”
She moved to his side and looked at the diagnostic screen. In seconds she was scowling, as well.
“That’s what I was afraid of,” she said quietly. “I ran the same scans and came to the same conclusion. Stern,” she added, meeting his eyes, “is definitely not himself.”
He nodded.
“You aren’t trying to pacify me, are you?” she queried, used to arguments from her colleague. “I haven’t gone space-happy.”
“I know that,” he said. “I matched his bioscans from a month ago to these new ones and got the same result you did. The change is too radical to be natural. Someone has altered Stern’s mental patterns.”
“Yes,” she agreed, lowering her voice. “Does he know, do you think?”
He nodded. “Let’s say, he suspects. It’s an amazing alteration, too,” he agreed reluctantly. “There are no definite signs of tampering except for the rogue cells and the bioscan patterns. If we’d been less detailed physicians, we’d never even have suspected. He seems perfectly normal most of the time.”
Madeline glanced at him and wanted, so badly, to tell him what she suspected about Muldoon. But she didn’t dare. Now that she knew the Morcai carried AVBDs, she couldn’t risk it.
“Strick, you don’t think he’s a clone?” she asked suddenly, and felt such a sense of loss that her eyes almost watered.
He gnawed on his lower lip. His broad shoulders moved uncomfortably. “I don’t know.”
“You suspect something,” she persisted.
He drew in a painful breath. “It wouldn’t serve Rojok purposes to leave the original alive if they deliberately replaced Stern. But we have no proof of that, remember? It may be just what it seems—a strange pattern due to a head injury.”
She folded her arms
Similar Books
