Miles, Mutants and Microbes - Lois McMaster Bujold [5]
The shuttle sidled delicately into alignment with a hatch on the side of the Habitat and seated itself with a reassuringly authoritative click. The pilot shut down his systems and unbuckled himself to float past Leo and Van Atta and check the hatch seals. "Ready for disembarking, Mr. Van Atta."
"Thank you, Grant."
Leo released his seat restraints, and stretched and relaxed in the pleasurable familiarity of weightlessness. Not for him the unfortunate nauseas of null-gee that sapped the efficiency of so many employees. Leo's body was ordinary enough, downside; here, where control and practice and wit counted more than strength, he was at last an athlete. Smiling a little to himself, he followed Van Atta from hand-grip to hand-grip and through the shuttle hatch.
A pink-faced tech manned a control panel just inside the shuttle hatch corridor. He wore a red T-shirt with the GalacTech logo over his left breast. Tight blond curls cut close to his head reminded Leo of a lamb's pelt; perhaps it was an effect of his obvious youth.
"Hello there, Tony," Van Atta greeted him with cheerful familiarity.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Van Atta," the youth replied deferentially. He smiled at Leo, and cocked his head at Van Atta in a pantomime plea for an introduction. "Is this the new teacher you were telling us about?"
"Indeed he is. Leo Graf, this is Tony—he'll be among your first trainees. He's one of the habitat's permanent residents," Van Atta added with peculiar emphasis. "Tony is a welder and joiner, second grade—working on first, eh, Tony? Shake hands with Mr. Graf."
Van Atta was smirking. Leo had the impression that if he hadn't been in free fall, he would have been bouncing on his heels.
Tony pulled himself obediently over the control panel. He wore red shorts—
Leo blinked and caught his breath in shock. The boy had no legs. Emerging from his shorts were a second set of arms.
Functional arms, he was even now using his—his lower left hand, Leo supposed he'd have to call it—to anchor himself as he reached out to Leo. His smile was perfectly unselfconscious.
Leo had lost his own hand grip and had to fumble to retrieve it, stretching awkwardly to meet the proffered handshake. "How do you do," Leo managed to croak. It was almost impossible not to stare. Leo forced his gaze to focus on the young man's bright blue eyes.
"Hello, sir. I've been looking forward to meeting you." Tony's handshake was shy but sincere, his hand dry and strong.
"Um . . ." Leo's tongue stumbled, "um, what's your last name, uh, Tony?"
"Oh, Tony's just my nickname, sir. My full designation is TY-776-424-XG."
"I, uh—guess I'll call you Tony, then," Leo murmured, increasingly stunned. Van Atta, most unhelpfully, seemed to be thoroughly enjoying Leo's discomfiture.
"Everybody does," said Tony agreeably.
"Fetch Mr. Graf's bag, will you, Tony?" said Van Atta. "Come on, Leo, I'll show you your quarters, and then we can do the grand tour."
Leo followed his floating guide into the indicated cross-corridor, glancing back over his shoulder in renewed amazement as Tony launched himself accurately across the chamber and swung through the shuttle hatch.
"That's," Leo swallowed, "that's the most extraordinary birth defect I've ever seen. Somebody had a stroke of genius, to find him a job in free fall. He'd be a cripple, downside."
"Birth defect." Van Atta's grin had grown twisted. "Yeah, that's one way of describing it. I wish you could have seen the look on your face when he popped up like that. I congratulate you on your self-control. I about puked when I first saw one, and I was prepared. You get used to the little chimps pretty quick, though."
"There's more than one?"
Van Atta opened and closed his hands in a counting gesture. "An even one-thousand. The first generation of GalacTech's new super-workers. The name of the game, Leo, is bioengineering. And I intend to win."
Tony, with Leo's valise clutched in his lower right hand, swooped between