Doctor Who_ Original Sin - Andy Lane [5]
‘Cwej?’ That was a new one on her. ‘How do you spell that?’
He consulted a screen out of the range of the simcord. ‘Uh . . . C-W-E-J, Cwej.’
The name seemed familiar. She’d seen his file recently. Or talked to somebody about him. ‘Any idea who he is?’
‘Transferred across from the Spaceport Nine Overcity Lodge, traffic detail.
Rumour says he might be a replacement for Martle.’
A chill ran through her. Remnants of the dream were still floating through her head. Thunk, as the claw ripped his life from him.
‘Nobody can replace Martle,’ she said.
‘Hey, I didn’t mean –’
‘Forget it,’ she said dismissively. A memory bobbed to the surface of her mind: Adjudicator Secular Rashid’s bloated face, and a discussion about who she wanted to work with next.
‘It’s not pronounced “Cwej”,’ she said, remembering, ‘it’s pronounced
“Shvey”.’
‘Says “Cwej” here,’ Lubineki said, frowning.
‘Yeah, but – oh, never mind.’ It was none of her business what the new guy got called, so long as he wasn’t called her squire.
9
Lubineki’s gaze had shifted past her to her apartment. ‘Nice place,’ he said appreciatively. ‘What level you on?’
She shifted her body to block his view. The apartment didn’t look that expensive – she was too much of a slob for that – but the size alone would be enough to make Lubineki think The last thing she needed was rumours spreading about her lifestyle.
‘Five-oh-five,’ she said.
He tried to look unimpressed, but the distortion of the simcord emphasized the envious twitch of his mouth. ‘Five-oh-five, eh? Got a rich boyfriend?’
‘If only,’ she muttered, deflecting the query. ‘See you soon.’
He flipped a sketchy salute. ‘Have a good trip.’
She closed down the simcord and shut her eyes. Her head ached. Her head ached fit to burst, but still not enough to drown out the images. Jeez, Martle, why you?
Why you?
Ahead of District Inspector Artik Glebe, the walkway slowed to a halt as it approached the door to the warehouse block. Two conspicuously armed security bots stood waiting for him, weapon arms extended.
‘My name’s Glebe,’ he said. ‘Imperial Food Administration Office. We’re doing a check on the animeats.’
There was a pause, as the bots checked with centcomp that Glebe was expected, and he still had to submit to gene-testing before he was allowed inside.
For a few moments after the door opened and the walkway started up again, Glebe was disoriented. He had expected shadows, echoes and oppressive heat. What he found was a cool, bright space where the far walls vanished in a distant haze, and only the faintest hint of a roof could be made out. It was like standing in a meadow on a summer’s day.
The walkway deposited him at the edge of a springy floor. Somewhere out in the centre of space, shimmering in and out of the haze like a mirage, Glebe could make out huge but vague shapes. He walked closer. A cool breeze caressed his face, and he had to force himself to remember he was inside, not out. Gradually the haze pulled back to reveal the animeats.
Glebe stood entranced. He’d heard descriptions, of course, but even so . . .
The closest animeat was so large that its back was lost in the haze hiding the ceiling. Huge rolls of flesh lapped around it like waves. Spade-shaped flippers the size of flitters ringed its grey, pebbled body. It had no eyes, no mouth, nothing but flesh.
Behind it, like a range of foothills, Glebe could make out other animeats.
‘They come from a gas giant out on the Rim,’ said a voice behind him. ‘They float through the high density atmosphere, absorbing nutrients.’
10
Glebe turned. A woman in a seamless foil coverall stood behind him. She was in her forties, striking rather than attractive, with close-cropped grey hair and green eyes. In her hand she held a small control unit.
‘I’m impressed,’ he said. ‘My name’s Glebe. I’m the new Inspector from –’
‘The IFAO, I guess. Thanks for coming.’
He smiled. ‘No problem. If it wasn’t for ElleryCorp, Earth’s billions would starve to death. I’m just here to do the regular check for toxins, mutagens and suchlike. Shouldn’t take