Read Online The Mind Pool by Charles Sheffield - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Charles Sheffield
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Mondrian’s. The courtiers stopped their promenading to stare at what was happening.
“You.” Mondrian moved forward, tightening his grip as the woman tried to pull his hand free. “Both of you. Are you under contract to Bozzie?”
The man stared back impassively, but the woman thrust herself between him and Mondrian. “No business of yours! Let go!”
“No, listen for a moment. There might be a position for you—something good. If you’re contracted to Bozzie, I’ll make sure you get a good offer—”
She batted Mondrian’s hand away from the youth’s arm, screamed “Chan! Follow me—right now!” and threw herself away into the crowd. The youth gave one wide-eyed glance at Mondrian and went after her. In a few seconds they were twenty yards away, heading for the shelter of a covered arcade.
“Those two,” cried Mondrian. “Stop them—there’s a reward for anyone who does.”
The courtiers did not even move. Flammarion began a half-hearted pursuit, but found they were running away at a speed that he had not even attempted in a quarter of a century. They were ducking into the arcade when Luther Brachis acted. He pulled a palm-sized cylinder from his pocket and pointed it at the pair.
“Don’t shoot!” cried King Bester.
He was too late. A green spiral of light flashed from the cylinder, corkscrewing a tignt helical path that glowed in the air. It touched the escaping pair, first the man and then the woman. The backs of their jackets smoked, and threw off a shower of sparks. Then they were wriggling away out of sight behind a long curtain of golden beads.
“They’re not hurt,” said Brachis to King Bester. And then to Mondrian, “You’re going to lose your bet anyway, so I’ll give you a look at the monitor system you’ll never get.” He pulled a flat disk from his belt. “It’s never had a test before in a crowded environment like this. Let’s see how well it does.”
He held the disk horizontal. At its center a double arrow of light moved and turned. As they watched, it lengthened perceptibly and changed direction.
“A Tracker?”
Brachis nodded at Mondrian’s question. “But a lot fancier than usual. Direction and distance. Once anything’s tagged with the signature beam this can follow them for at least twenty-four hours. It’s also designed to be able to track five people at once. It must be confusing if they all go separate ways—five separate arrows to deal with—but with two it ought to be easy. And they’re keeping close together.” He handed it to Mondrian, who in turn held it out at once to Flammarion.
“Go follow them, bring them back here. I have to stay here and wait for Bozzie.”
Flammarion stared at him pop-eyed, then glanced in turn at the Tracker and the bewildering complexity of the chamber.
“Not by yourself, Captain,” went on Mondrian. “I realize you don’t know the place.” He gestured at King Bester, who was pointedly looking elsewhere. “He’ll help you—and he’ll be very well rewarded if he does.”
“Right you are, squire.” Bester slapped his hands together and grabbed the Tracker from Flammarion. “Now we’re cooking. The arrow’s not moving, they must have stopped. Come on, Captain. We’ll have ‘em in a jiffy-o.”
With Flammarion trailing along behind he set out alone the path defined by the arrow. Mondrian glanced mildly at Brachis, and actually came close to smiling. “Big mistake, Luther. You didn’t think when you set the Tracker on them. Now I’m going to win that bet—with those handsome two you were kind enough to tag for me. Want to concede right now?”
“The bet stands, Esro. Nothing good comes out of Earth.” His thought ran on: That irritates you mightily, doesn’t it, every time I say it?
And Mondrian was making his own useful observation. Nothing good comes out of Earth, you say. But some things on Earth certainly interest you. Icaught that look, when King Bester was talking about visiting a
“You.” Mondrian moved forward, tightening his grip as the woman tried to pull his hand free. “Both of you. Are you under contract to Bozzie?”
The man stared back impassively, but the woman thrust herself between him and Mondrian. “No business of yours! Let go!”
“No, listen for a moment. There might be a position for you—something good. If you’re contracted to Bozzie, I’ll make sure you get a good offer—”
She batted Mondrian’s hand away from the youth’s arm, screamed “Chan! Follow me—right now!” and threw herself away into the crowd. The youth gave one wide-eyed glance at Mondrian and went after her. In a few seconds they were twenty yards away, heading for the shelter of a covered arcade.
“Those two,” cried Mondrian. “Stop them—there’s a reward for anyone who does.”
The courtiers did not even move. Flammarion began a half-hearted pursuit, but found they were running away at a speed that he had not even attempted in a quarter of a century. They were ducking into the arcade when Luther Brachis acted. He pulled a palm-sized cylinder from his pocket and pointed it at the pair.
“Don’t shoot!” cried King Bester.
He was too late. A green spiral of light flashed from the cylinder, corkscrewing a tignt helical path that glowed in the air. It touched the escaping pair, first the man and then the woman. The backs of their jackets smoked, and threw off a shower of sparks. Then they were wriggling away out of sight behind a long curtain of golden beads.
“They’re not hurt,” said Brachis to King Bester. And then to Mondrian, “You’re going to lose your bet anyway, so I’ll give you a look at the monitor system you’ll never get.” He pulled a flat disk from his belt. “It’s never had a test before in a crowded environment like this. Let’s see how well it does.”
He held the disk horizontal. At its center a double arrow of light moved and turned. As they watched, it lengthened perceptibly and changed direction.
“A Tracker?”
Brachis nodded at Mondrian’s question. “But a lot fancier than usual. Direction and distance. Once anything’s tagged with the signature beam this can follow them for at least twenty-four hours. It’s also designed to be able to track five people at once. It must be confusing if they all go separate ways—five separate arrows to deal with—but with two it ought to be easy. And they’re keeping close together.” He handed it to Mondrian, who in turn held it out at once to Flammarion.
“Go follow them, bring them back here. I have to stay here and wait for Bozzie.”
Flammarion stared at him pop-eyed, then glanced in turn at the Tracker and the bewildering complexity of the chamber.
“Not by yourself, Captain,” went on Mondrian. “I realize you don’t know the place.” He gestured at King Bester, who was pointedly looking elsewhere. “He’ll help you—and he’ll be very well rewarded if he does.”
“Right you are, squire.” Bester slapped his hands together and grabbed the Tracker from Flammarion. “Now we’re cooking. The arrow’s not moving, they must have stopped. Come on, Captain. We’ll have ‘em in a jiffy-o.”
With Flammarion trailing along behind he set out alone the path defined by the arrow. Mondrian glanced mildly at Brachis, and actually came close to smiling. “Big mistake, Luther. You didn’t think when you set the Tracker on them. Now I’m going to win that bet—with those handsome two you were kind enough to tag for me. Want to concede right now?”
“The bet stands, Esro. Nothing good comes out of Earth.” His thought ran on: That irritates you mightily, doesn’t it, every time I say it?
And Mondrian was making his own useful observation. Nothing good comes out of Earth, you say. But some things on Earth certainly interest you. Icaught that look, when King Bester was talking about visiting a
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