Chaos Space - Marianne de Pierres [110]
The smells were different, too; the spicy musks and florals were replaced by something less salubrious, less hearty. The factories of the Heijunka were made from grown technology; dirty catoplasma tubes squeezed on top of each other like the inner workings of an insect mound.
The map steered him to bay GG and Thales found himself in front of a modest narrow popped doorfront bearing a medi-lab symbol.
He hesitated before entering, glancing around. None of the factory units had windows. Are they all interconnected? he wondered. A hive of darkness.
The factory unit on one side was much, much larger. A balol lounged against the wall of the other side, picking under its neck frill and inhaling from a small tube. It seemed oblivious to Thales’s presence.
He reached for the door and pushed inward.
A cooling chill and polycoated grey rubber greeted him. He walked to the desk and pressed on the reception pad.
For a long time nothing happened.
Thoughts streamed through his head. Wait for Latourn/press for attendance again/call out/leave/no! He had to get the DNA and return to Edo.
As Thales reached for the pad again, a four-legged figure in mask and overalls scampered out from a doorway behind the desk. He propped his prehensile paws up on the counter and did not offer any introduction.
‘Your DNA profile correlates with our visual scan. Welcome to Junction, Msr Berniere. I have sent a farcast to our associate on Scolar to let him know our deal is in progress.’
Gutnee Paraburd. Thales felt a stab of anger. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘It would be good for Mr Paraburd to know that I have received the DNA.’
The lab-rat pressed a paw on the corner of the counter. It sprang open to reveal a small, cold-storage space full of vials and instruments. He selected a capsule and slotted it deftly into a gene gun.
‘Please hold out your arm.’
Thales licked dry lips. What if the naked DNA combined with the bacterium to break down the barrier substance more quickly? What if he did not have as much time as Farr had predicted? Would there be a warning?
He wanted to ask the lab-rat but any questions would arouse suspicion.
I can change.
He pushed up the sleeve of his robe and held his arm out.
‘The other side,’ said the lab-rat.
Before he could proffer the other arm a commotion broke out.
A moment later the door burst open and a thin well-dressed Lostolian male staggered in supporting a filthy old ‘esque who was naked from the waist down and gasping for breath.
‘I need urgent medical help,’ cried the Lostolian in a commanding tone. ‘This man MUST NOT DIE!’
TEKTON
‘Do you understand? He must not die!’ Tekton repeated himself slowly and with unmistakable vehemence.
A lab-rat in a laboratory uniform of mask and frock coat edged put from behind the counter and hopped around as Tekton dropped Manruben on a chair. The old craftsman’s colouring had turned from chemical-ruddy to an unhealthy shade of white.
‘What is it?’ hissed the lab-rat.
‘Heart failure, I would surmise,’ said Tekton. ‘I believe he has no HealthWatch.’
‘I have a temporary patch,’ said the lab-rat. ‘You want it?’
Tekton stamped his foot and gave him a fierce glare. ‘Are you mentally impaired? Of course I want it!’
The lab-rat blinked and twitched but it didn’t move.
An oddly dressed young man stepped from the corner of the counter into the ensuing silence. ‘I think.. . what he means is ... well. . . who will pay.’
‘Lucre? Of course!’ Tekton tossed a credit clip at the lab-rat.
The ‘rat ran behind the counter. When the clip verified itself he scuttled back and stickered a HealthWatch patch on Manruben’s chest. ‘Nanites will take a little while. Maybe it’s too late, even. Have some business to attend to now. You should wait outside.’
‘Wait outside?’ Tekton frowned and mustered his most imperious demeanour. ‘Most unlikely.’ He turned on his heel and began to pace the length of the office.
‘Sir, may I say,’ said the young man, keeping his eyes carefully averted from Manruben