Brain Ships - Anne McCaffrey [243]
"De Gras-Waldheim must know some way to disable them," Forister nodded.
"Reasonable," Nancia put in from the speaker. "He invented them. They're essentially single-purpose hyperchips—and nobody knows more about hyperchips than Polyon."
Sev's next discovery was that Polyon had stepped up the new plants' production of hyperchips by ignoring all safety precautions. Sent to the hyperchip burnoff lines, where prisoners' life expectancy amid the clouds of nerve-destroying gas could be measured in days rather than years, Sev had resolved to make a break for freedom when the first ship touched down on Shemali—especially when he recognized the slim lines of Nancia's Courier Service hull behind the disguising frieze of OG Shipping logos and mauve stripes. The escape hadn't been too difficult; all the other prisoners had been terrorized out of even thinking about escape, and the guards were lazy and careless and unwilling to spend much time in the burnoff rooms.
"And besides," finished Forister with a grin, "nobody would expect a prisoner on the run to go to an OG Shipping drone for help. Nancia, your paint job has served us well. I don't suppose you'd consider keeping it after this is over?"
"Most certainly not!" Nancia told him. "And it wouldn't work, anyway. When we've finished in the Nyota system, there won't be any more OG Shipping. But—what do we do now?"
Sev's story had demonstrated enough irregularities to justify arresting Polyon twice over. But he was just one man, with no datacordings or computer records to exhibit in proof of his story. If they took Polyon away now without making sure of their evidence, Sev predicted that Shemali would be cleaned up by the time they got back.
"Impossible," said Forister with feeling.
Sev nodded weakly. "Not the planet's surface, I grant you. But you can be sure there'll be nothing inside the factories for an investigative committee to quarrel with. It'll all be clean assembly lines, strict safety features."
"And the prisoners who've already been damaged by exposure to acids and gases?"
"I don't think," said Sev somberly, "that any of them will be able to testify by that time."
"Then we'll have to go down now and get the evidence," Forister said.
Sev shook his head. "Won't work. He's clever—there's a VIP tour arranged—the disfigured prisoners and the dangerous work lines are all kept well out of sight. Mostly at the secondary plants hidden backplanet. I know how to find one of the worst plants. I was there. But without me, he'll whisk you from one end of the central prison factory to the other, and you won't see anything, and every time you try to turn around there'll be six guards in your way. I'll have to go with you." He tried to raise himself from the pillows, started coughing and fell back again.
"You can't!" Fassa exclaimed.
"May have to," said Micaya Questar-Benn. "Duty." She and Sev nodded at one another. "You two," she jerked her head at Fassa and Alpha—"back to your cabins now. Nothing to do with you—shouldn't have let you hear this much."
"Wait!" Fassa cried as Forister took her by the arm. "There has to be another way. It won't work, taking Sev with you, can't you see that? Even if he were stronger, the sight of his face will warn Polyon at once that there's something wrong. None of you—none of us will get away alive."
"Oh, come now," said Forister gently. "Your friend can't be that dangerous."
Fassa's face hardened. "If you don't believe me, ask the others. Alpha?"
Alpha bint Hezra-Fong nodded once, reluctantly.
Fassa looked up at the room sensor. "Nancia, can you connect us with Blaize and Darnell? Just for a moment?"
Both men agreed with Fassa's assessment of the situation.
"Then what can we do?" Forister demanded. "Damn it, I'm not going to turn tail and run off-planet for fear of some spoiled High Families brat who's got hold of some dangerous toys!"
"I think," Fassa said slowly,