For Love of Mother-Not - Alan Dean Foster [91]
“Hey, you mean you don’t know who they were? Who are you people, anyway?”
They exchanged a glance; then the woman shrugged. “No harm in it. Maybe it’ll help his memory.”
She pulled a small plastic card from an inside pocket and showed it to the injured man. It was bright red. On it was printed a name, then her world of origin: Terra. The eyes of the man on the ground widened slightly at that. The series of letters which followed added confusion to his astonishment.
FLT-I-PC-MO. The first section he understood. It told him that this visitor was an autonomous agent, rank Inspector, of the Commonwealth law enforcement arm, the Peaceforcers.
“What does ‘MO’ stand for?” he asked.
“Moral Operations section,” she told him, repocketing the ident. “These scientists you worked for—even though you had little or no personal contact with them, you must have seen them from time to time?”
“Sure. They kept pretty well to themselves, but I sometimes saw ’em strolling around.”
“They were all quite elderly, weren’t they?”
He frowned. “You know, I didn’t think much about it, but yeah, I guess they were. Does that mean something?”
“It needn’t trouble you,” the man said soothingly. “You’ve said you haven’t seen anyone else around since this horde of beasts overwhelmed you. That doesn’t necessarily mean you’re the only survivor. I assume some form of transportation was maintained for local use here. You didn’t see anyone get away in a mudder or skimmer?”
The man on the ground thought a moment, and his face brightened. “Yeah, yeah I did. There was this old lady and a younger one—good-looking, the younger one. There was a kid with ’em. I didn’t recognize ’em, but there were always people coming and going here.”
“How old was the kid?” the woman asked him.
“Damned if I know. I was running like blazes in one direction, and their skimmer was headed in the other, so I didn’t stop to ask questions. Kid had red hair, though. I remember that. Redheads seem scarce on this ball of dirt.”
“A charmed life,” the older man murmured to his companion. There was admiration as well as frustration in his voice. “The boy leads a charmed life.”
“As you well know, there may be a lot more than charm involved,” the woman said tersely. “The old woman he refers to is obviously the adopting parent, but who was the other?” She frowned, now worried.
“It doesn’t matter,” her companion said. He spoke to the injured man. “Look, how well do you remember the attitudes of this trio? I know you didn’t have much time. This younger woman, the attractive one. Did she give the appearance of being in control of the other two? Did it seem as if she was holding the boy and old lady under guard?”
“I told you, I didn’t get much of a look,” Caster replied. “I didn’t see any weapons showing, if that’s what you’re talking about.”
“Interesting,” the woman murmured. “They may have enlisted an ally. Another complication to contend with.” She sighed. “Damn this case, anyway. If it didn’t carry such a high priority with HQ I’d ask to be taken off.”
“You know how far we’d get with a request like that,” her companion snorted. “We’ll get ’em. We’ve come so damn close so many times already. The odds have to catch up with us.”
“Maybe. Remember your packages inside packages,” she taunted him gently. “Still, it might be easy now.” She waved at the ruined camp. “It doesn’t look like many, if any, of the Meliorares got away.”
“Melio—Meliorares?” The injured man gaped at them. “Hey, I know that name. Weren’t they the—?” His eyes widened with realization. “Now wait a second, people, I didn’t—”
“Take it easy,” the man in the camouflage suit urged him. “Your surprise confirms your innocence. Besides, you’re too young. They’ve taken in smarter folk than you down over the years.”
“We shouldn’t have that much trouble relocating the boy.” She was feeling confident now. “We should be able