Chaos Space - Marianne de Pierres [60]
‘Will the courier need travel finance and so forth?’
Gutnee Paraburd clicked his tongue. ‘No, no, no. My company covers all such things, of course.’ He rubbed his temples with frustration, then stared at Thales with a hopeful expression. ‘Why do you ask?’
Thales cleared his throat, took another sip of chocola, then cleared his throat again. ‘I would offer myself. My services, that is, if you would have me.’
Paraburd’s mouth fell open in undisguised delight. ‘Indeed. Would you, sir? A distinguished philosopher working for me! Well, I’m smitten shivery with shock.’
‘I am just a man like you, Mr Paraburd. You have done me a favour, now I can return it... Does that mean you accept my offer?’
The man bowed in his seat. ‘I accept with most humble gratitude. Let us hasten to my office.’
Thales returned Paraburd’s smile with less enthusiasm but a lighter heart. He had made a decision and done a good turn. ‘One thing I would ask. I would not care to run into the politic’
His new employer nodded in complete understanding.
Gutnee Paraburd led Thales through a door in the catoplasma wall and into the rear corridors of the station. The filthy halls were piled with disused tubing and other unrecognisable items, and smelled of sour chemicals.
‘I did not realise there were parallel passages in the landing port.’
‘All large transit stations have service areas,’ Thales’s new boss explained. ‘It wouldn’t do for travellers to see the less glamorous end of things. Now, Msr, when we reach my office I will provide you with a courier uniform. Then we will hasten to the ship. Loading has already begun.’
Thales felt a sharp twist in his stomach, a pang of anxiety, followed by a thrill of anticipation. He was going into space—something he had not had occasion to do before, certainly not as a paid personage. It gave him a sense of purpose. Rene would be surprised if she knew and he liked that notion.
Paraburd turned along a narrow, dim corridor and opened a door at the very end. His office was crowded with shelves of receptacles and chilled by a draught from an adjacent cool room. A balol hunched over a desk in the middle of it all, dwarfed by the stacks of laboratory objects. He scowled at Paraburd who ignored him and ushered Thales into a small ablution cubicle.
‘I will hand a uniform in to you.’
Thales squeezed past a crate of tube syringes and waited behind the door. After a few long moments, in which he became acutely aware of the dark stains in the ceiling and an unpleasant smell coming from the toilet, Paraburd tapped on the door and passed a uniform in.
Thales emerged in ill-fitting pants and jacket. ‘There is a tear under one arm,’ he said.
Paraburd shook his fist at the balol. ‘Tell me what it is that I pay you for?’
The balol’s scowl didn’t alter. Nor did he proffer an explanation.
Paraburd took Thales’s arm. ‘Keep your arm at your side and no one will notice. You see, your position on this ship will be a dual role. For the duration of the trip you will assist as an escort for a travelling diplomat. It is a way of managing costs, you understand. Now for the DNA barrier.’ He went into the refrigerated compartment and returned with a fluid-filled, sleeve-shaped object. He pushed the uniform up to Thales’s elbow and slipped the sleeve over his wrist.
Thales felt a series of tiny pricks.
When he tried to remove the sleeve Gutnee Paraburd held it fast with a surprising show of strength. ‘Do not move until the sleeve has drained.’
The pricks continued for a few more seconds until Paraburd relaxed his grip and removed the empty sleeve.
‘You are now protected from the disease. But please remember, Msr Thales, that the barrier substance has a finite lifespan. You must deliver the naked DNA to me in order to have it harvested. If not, transfection will occur in your genome.’
Thales felt a twinge of uncertainty. ‘Mr Paraburd, this DNA I am to receive ... is it that important?’
Gutnee Paraburd appeared hurt and shocked. ‘Mr Berniere, all my work is important—’
‘But what