Creeping out farther on the ledge, Kane looked straight down. Spread out over the boulders at the foot of the slope, he saw a splattering of obsidian gel. By staring hard, he was just able to discern what might have been a forearm and hand, now glued to the bulwark of stone.
“Kane?”
Brigid’s voice transmitted into his ear caused him to jump and bite back a startled curse. “Here,” he said.
“We’re nearly there.”
“Acknowledged.”
He returned to the redoubt, leaving the sec door halfway up. The diffuse sunlight was an improvement over the pallid illumination provided by the ceiling light strips, though it didn’t penetrate very far down the corridor.
By the time he came around the corner, Lakesh and Brigid were already standing over the stunted corpse. In a flat, quiet tone, Lakesh declared, “Advanced achondroplasia, with indications of acromegaly.”
“I know achondroplasia is a form of dwarfism,” said Brigid, “but I’m not so sure about acromegaly.”
“It’s a disturbance of the growth process affecting bone and muscle development. Usually it’s the result of oversecretions from the pituitary gland.” Lakesh adjusted his eyeglasses, frowning over the rims. “I’m no expert, but generally acromegaly is associated with giantism, not dwarfism.”
“Whatever, he’s an ugly little spud,” commented Kane. “What about his feet? Ever see anything like them?”
Lakesh shook his head. “Not on Homo sapiens . Obviously a mutation, but whether it was deliberately induced or simply a freak of nature, I hesitate to say. It is apparent, though, that the foot bones have been re-modified to become hand bones, suitable for gripping.”
“Gripping what?” Kane demanded. “Self-heat-ration packs?”
Lakesh regarded him with an irritated glance. “I don’t know. We’ll take him back to Cerberus with us for a full examination and postmortem.”
“We know what chilled him,” retorted Kane. “Too much lead in his diet.”
Brigid indicated the open doorway with a nod. “Let’s give you a look at our other mystery.”
If Lakesh had been fairly phlegmatic upon viewing the bullet-riddled troll, his reaction upon glimpsing the sludge spread out over the corridor floor was the exact opposite. His expression registered incredulity, then horror. He stared unblinkingly at the black protoplasm, reaching out to touch a smear of the substance on the wall, then jerking his fingers back before they made contact.
“An MD gun,” he said in a heavy, halting voice.
“Almighty God. I can scarcely believe it. An MD gun!”
“What’s an MD gun?” Brigid asked.
Lakesh wet his lips nervously. “Molecular destabil-izer. A weapon that was in development by Overproject Whisper’s Operation Eurydice in the late 1990s. As far as I knew, it never evolved beyond a few rudimentary prototypes. Bulky things, requiring superconducting battery packs. I saw a couple of tests.”
Kane eyed the ooze, then Lakesh. “How do they work?”
“By the application and release of subatomic particles. Organic tissues and structural matter experience molecular de-cohesion, almost as if every binding atomgluons, they’re calledunravels.”
“Is the MD gun Archon technology?” demanded Brigid.
“The basic principles, probably,” Lakesh answered dolefully. “All attempts at miniaturizing them failed…or so I was told.”
Kane gestured to the floor. “We’ve got wheel tracks. Maybe the MD thing was mounted on some kind of small wag.” He hooked a thumb over his shoulder. “Outside I found what’s left of a Sandcat and another Mag. Both of them had been unraveled.”
Lakesh nodded thoughtfully. “Dispatched from Sharpeville, no doubt. They found more than they were looking for.”
He sighed wearily. “Let’s get out of here. I left the memory matrix downstairs.”
Kane started down the passageway. “Give me a minute to lock up.”
He stepped over the decapitated Mag, turned the corner and walked quickly to the sec door. He paused before pulling down the lever, his ears catching a faint, rhythmic swish of sound from outside.
EasirTg his body beneath the half-raised vanadium slab, Kane duck-walked out onto the shelf and peered over the rock-littered edge. His heartbeat sped up, and he shivered as a jolt of adrenaline shot through his system.
Three Deathbirds alighted on the ground near the slagged remains of the Sandcat. Dust devils corkscrewed in the rotor washes. All three of the compact craft were streamlined and sleek, painted a nonreflec-tive matte black.