to the right, and then to the left.
He heard the snapping of its neck a millisecond before the cry of pain and
surprise that was wrung from its throat. The light in its eyes dimmed swiftly
and faded.
As Dean stepped back, it was no longer a stickie. There, in front of him, with
her neck broken and her naked body covered in weals and bruises, blood running
over her belly to pool between her thighs, was Phaedra.
Dean howled in anguish.
“THE KID’S GOING CRAZY,” yelled the small tech as Dean’s jerking, howling body
lifted itself off the couch, pulling wires and electrodes from his body, the
tangles and terminals coming out of the comp console with an alarming amount of
sparks and crackles. A small fire broke out, doused immediately by an alarmed
whitecoat with a high-domed forehead and bug eyes. She was completely bald, with
her front teeth missing. It would seem that she also had a cleft palate, as she
uttered a worried yet incomprehensible noise.
The only calm personnel in the room were Murphy and Wallace. Sarj Murphy studied
the Gen very closely.
“Desist this ridiculousness. The good book dictates calm in times of emergency,
and I will have calm.”
Wallace’s voice rose almost imperceptibly in volume as he got to the end of the
statement, but the increase was accentuated by the sudden silence that descended
on the room, broken only by the hum and buzz of the still fizzling terminals.
Murphy couldn’t help but be impressed. And worried. This would be a formidable
foe.
“Bring the outsider back,” Wallace continued in quiet, authoritative tones.
“I’m not sure if we can… At least, not that quickly,” the geek tech said
absently, squinting heavily at where Dean had subsided back onto the couch. His
eyes were moving wildly behind the closed lids, and his breathing was labored
and shallow.
“I think you will,” Wallace said simply.
“Sir.” The tech snapped to attention, something in Wallace’s voice reminding him
of his position.
Murphy, on the other hand, was dubious. And if the kid didn’t survive, what hope
was there for the old man who lay in the next sick bay, similarly wired up?
“NOT LIKE THIS, DOC. Frightening.”
“Worry not, my sweet. There is no puzzle to which there is not a solution, if
you care to think of it. Be it logical or lateral, there is always a path that
can be followed.”
“Don’t look to me like there are any paths here at all.” Lori looked at Doc
Tanner with wide and uncomprehending eyes.
Doc sighed. It was ever the way that Lori, as sweet as she was, failed to
understand the simplest allusion. He cared deeply for the girl—a fellow waif in
a strange land—but couldn’t help but find her obtuseness, at times, irritating.
They were standing in a dark cavern, the only light— if it could be called
such—a faint phosphorescent glow from the rocks around them. The cavern seemed
to stretch away into an unspecific and threatening darkness, a feeling of fear
that was in no way alleviated by the faint roar of a distant gale and the odor
of old, burned flesh that hung over them like a curtain.
The pearl handle of Lori’s Walther PPK .22 blaster glowed softly as it picked up
the reflection of the rocks. Her long blond hair framed her glittering eyes. Doc
could see little else of her in the darkness, but as they advanced a few steps
he could hear the clicking of her high heels on the rock floor.
In the mind of Dr. Theophilus Tanner, reason struggled to gain the upper hand
over the encroachment of fear. Doc knew that the others considered him crazy,
sometimes tipping into incoherence. The simple fact was that they were correct
He had seen things and been through mind- and body-wrenching experiences that no
one else had shared. And it was unlikely that anyone else would.
He shuddered involuntarily as he remembered things he had seen when the
scientists of Operation Chronos had tried to shut him up. He remembered the
mewling mess that had been Judge Crater. Perhaps he would have been better dead