Now she was in a narrow corridor that ran along the outside of the building and seemed to be very little used. There were dust bunnies in the corners and spiderwebs across the angles of the windows.
It seemed as though it had been originally utilized by cleaners or service operatives in the old times. Once she slowed her pace, going on tiptoe past an open skylight above a sealed door. Inside she could smell the bitter tang of coffee sub and hear a murmur of conversation.
There were three or four men inside. Mildred gathered that they had just come off a research shift and were about to go and join in the questioning of Krysty.
It was difficult to hear properly, and she could only catch occasional snatches of the conversation. But what she overheard was exceedingly interesting.
“Once it’s done, they’ll test to try and overcome the personality typing.”
” happened to the Ellisons.”
” growth accelerator will tell her ignorant of matter transfer”
“Crichton reckons this could be the big”
“I say the others should have been excised from the frame of reference while outside. Could have been handled easily enough out there.”
Mildred shifted her weight from one foot to the other, wincing as her boot sole squeaked on the tiles.
“What was that?”
She didn’t wait, moving as fast and quietly as she could, ducking into a storage closet and waiting, heart pounding. But nobody came after her.
Mildred stayed in the musty darkness for several minutes, replaying the odd moments of conversation, trying to make some sense out of them.
“No.”
Crichton leaned forward, his head trembling, a thin thread of spittle trailing down onto his scrawny chest. “It is such a small request.”
“Not small enough, Professor.”
“A tiny prick.”
Krysty couldn’t resist a grin. “I bet you say that to all the girls.”
The very old woman at the end of the line scowled at her. “Foulness in the mouth of a female is as to a jagged crack in fine porcelain.”
“Thanks for telling me that.” Krysty replied. “Would never have known it.”
“One injection to relax you?”
“No, Professor Crichton. I will not allow a thief into my blood who might try to rob my mind.”
“We all feel that you are holding back from us.”
Krysty glanced at the clock. “I’ve been down here a long time, including the hour and more you kept me waiting. It’s kind of tiring. I reckon this is long enough for today.”
“Surely another hour? This is only a talk between friends, is it not?”
Krysty shook her head. “Frankly, no, it is not. I want to go and get ready to greet Ryan and the others when they come back from the bear hunt.”
At that moment a door opened behind her. She turned to see a youngish sec man, staring at Crichton, waiting for the order to come in. He received it and marched smartly to the dais, lowering his head to whisper into his leader’s ear. He paused as Crichton gave a gesture of irritation.
“Louder, boy, louder.”
The guard repeated his message, this time getting a dismissive wave of the hand. He walked briskly out past Krysty without even glancing in her direction. She heard the hydraulic hinges hissing shut.
Crichton beamed at her. “I have just heard that the hunters chose to split up into three separate groups. Two out of the three have arrived safely from the heart of a severe snowstorm. The third one has not yet come home.”
“Who is in the third party?” Krysty asked.
“Five of our sec men, Professor Dorothea Gibson and the two outlanders named Trader and Cawdor.”
“Are they all right, Professor?”
He shook his head. “We don’t know. But I suggest we carry on until they get back. Then you can go and welcome them to the institute.”
Krysty stood. “I don’t think so. I think I’ll go and talk to the rest of my friends. Mebbe tomorrow.”
Crichton nodded reluctantly. “If that is your final answer. Tomorrow at nine?”
“At nine.”
As she walked out of the room, past the pair of sec sentries at the door, Krysty wondered where Mildred was and what she was doing.