Miles, Mutants and Microbes - Lois McMaster Bujold [112]
"All right now," he sighed happily. "Lying there, in that hospital—well, I didn't expect anyone to come after me. Horrible risk to you—not worth it!" He nuzzled her hair.
"We talked about it, the risk. But we couldn't leave you. Us quaddies—we've got to stick together." She was fully awake now, reveling in his physical reality, muscled hands, bright eyes, fuzzy blond brows. "Losing you would have diminished us, Leo said, and not just genetically. We have to be a people now, not just Claire and Tony and Silver and Siggy—and Andy—I guess it's what Leo calls 'synergistic.' We're something synergistic now."
A strange vibration purred through the walls of her chamber. She hitched around to scoop Andy out of his sleep restraints beside her, and fold him to her with her upper hands while still holding Tony's lowers with her lowers, under the sleep sack's cover. Andy squeaked, lips smacking, and fell back to sleep. Slowly, gently, her shoulderblades began to press against the wall.
"We're on our way," she whispered. "It's starting. . . ."
"It's holding together," Tony observed in wonder. They clung to each other. "Wanted to be with you, at this moment. . . ."
She let the acceleration have her, laying her head against the wall, cushioning Andy on her chest. Something went clunk in her cupboard; she'd check it later.
"This is the way to travel," sighed Tony. "Beats stowing away. . . ."
"It's going to be strange, without GalacTech," said Claire after a while. "Just us quaddies . . . what will Andy's world be like, I wonder?"
"That'll be up to us, I guess," said Tony soberly. "That's almost scarier than downsiders with guns, y'know? Freedom. Huh." He shook his head. "Not like I'd pictured it."
Yei's suggested sleep was out of the question. Morosely, Van Atta returned not to his living quarters, but to his own downside office. He had not checked in there for a couple of weeks. It was about midnight now, Shuttleport Three time; his downside secretary was off-shift. It suited his foul humor to sulk alone.
After about twenty minutes spent muttering to himself in the dim light, he decided to scan his accumulated electronic mail. His usual office routine had gone to pot these last few weeks anyway, and of course the events of the last two days had blown it entirely to hell. Perhaps a dose of boring routine would calm him enough to consider sleep after all.
Obsolete memos, out-of-date requests for instructions, irrelevant progress reports—the quaddie downside barracks, he noted with a grim snort, were advertised as ready for occupancy at fifteen percent over budget. If he could catch any quaddies to put in them. Instructions from HQ viz wrapping up the Cay Project, unsolicited advice upon salvage and disposal of its various parts . . .
Van Atta stopped abruptly, and backed up two screens on his vid. What had that said again?
Item: Post-fetal experimental tissue cultures. Quantity: 1000. Disposition: cremation by IGS Standard Biolab Rules.
He checked the source of the order. No, it hadn't come through Apmad's office, as he'd first guessed. It came from General Accounting & Inventory Control, part of a long computer-generated list including a variety of lab stores. The order was signed by a human, though, some unknown middle manager in the GA&IC back on Earth.
"By damn," Van Atta swore softly, "I don't think this twit even knows what quaddies are." The order had been signed some weeks before.
He read the opening paragraph again. The Project Chief will oversee the termination of this project with all due speed. The quick release of personnel for other assignments is particularly desirable. You are authorized to make whatever temporary requisitions of material or personnel from adjacent divisions you require to complete this termination by 6/1.
After another minute his lips drew back in a furious grin. Carefully, he pulled the precious message disc from the machine, pocketed it, and left to go find Chalopin. He hoped he might rout