aftermath of thudwumper rounds didn’t.
Fortunately, this one wasn’t as bad as I’d feared it would be. Witherspoon did the job quickly and efficiently, mostly just nicking off small skin samples or using a hypo to draw blood and other fluids. Only twice did he dig deeper than skin level, and in those instances I was able to keep my focus on the samples as he slid them into the small vials Aronobal held open tor him.
Five minutes later, it was over. “That’s it,” Witherspoon said as he set the last sealed vial into the sample case and handed the Spider the hypos and scalpels he’d been using. “Do you want to bring your spectroscopic analyzer here, or would it be easier if Dr. Aronobal and I accompany you to your compartment?”
“Neither, actually,” I told him as I took the sample case. “Bayta and I can handle it.”
Witherspoon threw a frown at Aronobal. “That’s not proper procedure,” he warned.
“Aboard a Quadrail, proper procedure is whatever the Spiders say it is,” I reminded him.
[And how will we know if you speak the truth?] Tririn demanded.
“You’ll know because I will speak it, and because I have no reason to lie,” I told him. “I’m not involved with your group, Pellorian Medical Systems, or any branch of the Human, Filiaelian, or Shorshian governments. I have no ax to grind, no agenda to push, no itches to scratch. More importantly, I’m the one with the necessary equipment and the knowledge and training to use it.”
Tririn looked at Dr. Witherspoon, who looked at Dr. Aronobal, who looked back at me. It didn’t take a genius to see that none of them was very happy with my executive decision.
It also didn’t take a genius to know they didn’t have much choice in the matter. [How soon will you have the results?] Tririn asked.
“By midmorning at the latest,” I said, taking Bayta’s arm. “You might as well all go back to bed. You’ll want to get some sleep before the rest of the train wakes up.”
We left the dispensary and headed forward. Second class was still pretty quiet, but a few of the passengers were beginning to stir as the early risers mixed with the insomniacs and those hoping to get a head start on the bathroom and shower facilities. First class, in contrast, was still almost uniformly quiet. Di -Master Strinni was again sleeping without his canopy, his lidded eyes pointed sightlessly toward the ceiling.
Bayta didn’t speak until we were back in my compartment with the door locked behind us. “The analysis won’t really take that long, will it?” she asked as I dug out my lighter and multi-tool.
“Not at all,” I assured her, flipping the lighter’s thumb guard around and positioning it over the flame jet. “But one of the cardinal rules is that you never let people know how long things actually take.”
“Why not?” she asked, watching in fascination as I selected the smallest of my multitool’s blades and dipped the tip into the vial containing Bofiv’s blood sample.
“Because you never know when you might have to do that same something a lot faster than they expect,” I told her. Touching the blade to the thumb guard, I deposited a droplet directly above the flame jet. “Here—hold this a second. Keep it vertical.”
Gingerly, she took the lighter, holding it at arm’s length while I pulled out my reader and data chip collection. The chip labeled Encyclopaedia Britannica was one of the oversized ones, as befitted its status as the repository of all Human knowledge.
Or so a casual observer would assume. In actual fact, that particular chip plus my specially designed, one-of-a-kind reader added up to a very powerful sensor/analyzer, one of the finest gadgets the Terran Confederation had to offer. I activated the sensor, took the lighter back from Bayta, and set the reader and lighter at the proper positions relative to each other. “Here we go.” I said, and ignited the lighter.
A blue-white flame hissed out, and there was a
Fortunately, this one wasn’t as bad as I’d feared it would be. Witherspoon did the job quickly and efficiently, mostly just nicking off small skin samples or using a hypo to draw blood and other fluids. Only twice did he dig deeper than skin level, and in those instances I was able to keep my focus on the samples as he slid them into the small vials Aronobal held open tor him.
Five minutes later, it was over. “That’s it,” Witherspoon said as he set the last sealed vial into the sample case and handed the Spider the hypos and scalpels he’d been using. “Do you want to bring your spectroscopic analyzer here, or would it be easier if Dr. Aronobal and I accompany you to your compartment?”
“Neither, actually,” I told him as I took the sample case. “Bayta and I can handle it.”
Witherspoon threw a frown at Aronobal. “That’s not proper procedure,” he warned.
“Aboard a Quadrail, proper procedure is whatever the Spiders say it is,” I reminded him.
[And how will we know if you speak the truth?] Tririn demanded.
“You’ll know because I will speak it, and because I have no reason to lie,” I told him. “I’m not involved with your group, Pellorian Medical Systems, or any branch of the Human, Filiaelian, or Shorshian governments. I have no ax to grind, no agenda to push, no itches to scratch. More importantly, I’m the one with the necessary equipment and the knowledge and training to use it.”
Tririn looked at Dr. Witherspoon, who looked at Dr. Aronobal, who looked back at me. It didn’t take a genius to see that none of them was very happy with my executive decision.
It also didn’t take a genius to know they didn’t have much choice in the matter. [How soon will you have the results?] Tririn asked.
“By midmorning at the latest,” I said, taking Bayta’s arm. “You might as well all go back to bed. You’ll want to get some sleep before the rest of the train wakes up.”
We left the dispensary and headed forward. Second class was still pretty quiet, but a few of the passengers were beginning to stir as the early risers mixed with the insomniacs and those hoping to get a head start on the bathroom and shower facilities. First class, in contrast, was still almost uniformly quiet. Di -Master Strinni was again sleeping without his canopy, his lidded eyes pointed sightlessly toward the ceiling.
Bayta didn’t speak until we were back in my compartment with the door locked behind us. “The analysis won’t really take that long, will it?” she asked as I dug out my lighter and multi-tool.
“Not at all,” I assured her, flipping the lighter’s thumb guard around and positioning it over the flame jet. “But one of the cardinal rules is that you never let people know how long things actually take.”
“Why not?” she asked, watching in fascination as I selected the smallest of my multitool’s blades and dipped the tip into the vial containing Bofiv’s blood sample.
“Because you never know when you might have to do that same something a lot faster than they expect,” I told her. Touching the blade to the thumb guard, I deposited a droplet directly above the flame jet. “Here—hold this a second. Keep it vertical.”
Gingerly, she took the lighter, holding it at arm’s length while I pulled out my reader and data chip collection. The chip labeled Encyclopaedia Britannica was one of the oversized ones, as befitted its status as the repository of all Human knowledge.
Or so a casual observer would assume. In actual fact, that particular chip plus my specially designed, one-of-a-kind reader added up to a very powerful sensor/analyzer, one of the finest gadgets the Terran Confederation had to offer. I activated the sensor, took the lighter back from Bayta, and set the reader and lighter at the proper positions relative to each other. “Here we go.” I said, and ignited the lighter.
A blue-white flame hissed out, and there was a
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