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"What kind?" Lady murmured.
"A little blood work, a few skin scrapings. Charles did the same when he was here. He did his genetic
homework the hard way, but here we have medical advantages you obviously do not. The more diverse
our samples, the more accurate our conclusions can be."
"Conclusions about what?"
The dean licked his lips with the merest touch of his tongue. "We're trying to determine just how
aberrant the different counties have become. The plague, other factors. The Disasters didn't create your
kind, Sir Thomas, it only set your ancestors free. Labs working on genetic engineering for space
exploration were destroyed, but certain& tissue cultures were not."
"Aberrant?" Lady repeated. "Is that what you call us?"
"Dear lady, of course not. I mean no offense." The dean stood. For a big man, he was surprisingly light
on his feet.
"I've shed enough blood over the past few days," Thomas said dryly. "I might as well shed some for
you." With a warning look to quell Lady's rising anger, he took her arm and guided her after the dean.
Under her breath, she muttered, "Arrogant son of a bitch."
Remmick marched a pace or so behind them as the dean led them to another elevator shaft and
downward again. The grills they passed through were continously marked AUTHORIZED
PERSONNEL ONLY. The halls were sterile tunnels, radiating an impersonal beige aura. Their passage
through them was muffled as if it were not quite real. The dean led them through a door. Its upper
portion was glass, steel meshed for strength. A white-coated man turned as they entered a large, sterile
kitchenlike room.
"Dr. Mendes. This is Sir Thomas Blade of Orange County and Lady Nolan of Torrance County. They're
part of the escort of our new arrivals. They're in a hurry to be on their way, but they've graciously
agreed to donate to our sample pool."
"My god, Gerald. Have they even been through decon?"
The dean said smoothly, "Now, now. Of course they have."
The doctor wiped his hands on the flaps of his white coat then and smiled broadly. "Good. I won't keep
you, Gerald."
With an eerie grace, the large man pivoted on his heels. "But," and Lady reached out tentatively, "what
if I wished to stay? Surely there's something I could do here of value."
The falcon expression went hard and cold. "Dear Lady. You've been In-City. You've lived on corrupted
land. I'm prepared to extend you every hospitality, but your joining the colony is unthinkable. What if
you carry the plague? Our population has none of the mutations you could carry. Our program is
coming along admirably. At the very least, if we suffered you to stay, you'd have to submit to voluntary
sterilization. You're still a moderately young woman. Wouldn't you find that difficult? You're better off
returning to your own where you can be appreciated as the unique woman you are."
Suddenly pale, Lady shrank back. "Surely your tests would show if I carried the plague or not?"
"Within a ninety percent accuracy rate," Dr. Mendes said smoothly. He smiled reassuringly. "It's the
other genetic coding we have to worry about& " the doctor's words trailed off.
Thomas put his arm around Lady, finding her suddenly frail within his hold. "We have work to do
anyway," he told her. "I don't intend leaving without you."
She gave him a brittle smile.
The dean wrung his hands. "That's settled, then. Remmick and I will leave you in the doctor's capable
care. He'll see you to your quarters and Remmick will handle your affairs in the morning." He left, the
captain on his heels.
The doors closed behind them. Dr. Mendes had brown eyes as cold as the corridors of the Vaults. He let
out a gust of sound. "Well. Let's get started." He began bustling through a fortune of rare equipment.
Charlie would have loved it in here probably had loved it in here. Lady plucked uncertainly at a
button on her sleeve. Mendes turned around impatiently. "What are you waiting for? The sooner you
strip, the sooner I can get this over with."
Mendes turned his back again, readying a set of glass tubes on a pristine plastic counter. He-opened and
closed cupboard doors, adding to his instruments. Thomas was as baffled by the doctor's attitude as by
Lady's sudden quiet. It was as though her rejection had taken all the spirit out of her.
Thomas loosened his scarf to free his gills and began to ease out of his battered leather jacket. "The
dean mentioned something about genetic engineering and space exploration. What was he talking
about?"
"Well, the Mars program for one, and what we called the longship, or the generational program "
"What?"
The doctor turned. "Just how primitive are you?" His dark skin was flushed with impatience.
Lady moved then. She reached for Thomas' arm. "I think I'd like you to kill him for me."
Thomas smiled thinly. "I think I'd like to do it." He leaned over the counter which separated them from
the doctor. "I'm primitive enough to do it."
Mendes swallowed. "I apologize," he said thickly. "I don't work with people often."
Lady softened, saying, "Apology accepted."
Thomas hesitated.
Mendes put in hastily, "You do know about airplanes?"
"Of course."
"That we landed on the moon?"
Thomas shook his head.
"Mars?"
Again, negative motion.
"Ah." Mendes took a deep breath. "Well, we did both. Mars was intriguing. It was felt that genetically
altered people, with environmental suits, might do quite well there. And then there were those who
fancied altering for ocean exploration and cleanup. Labs were doing all sorts of work. Your&
differences& are the results of those programs. Some authorized, some not. Your changes are not the [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]