He had no thought of where he was going, or where he was. He thought of nothing save the pain. He did not think of the fan.
When he stumbled into the huge blades they shredded him instantly, sending blood and ragged chunks of flesh splattering against the metalwork of the duct. It would have taken some time for his erstwhile friends to have found him if his skull hadn’t been caught just right between one blade and the casing.
Fouled, the safeties took over and shut down the mechanism.
The motor stopped and the blades ground to a halt. Down the main corridor a previously quiet fan automatically picked up the slack.
Then it was quiet again in the side shaft except for the distant, barely audible noise which emerged from the old storage recess, a perverse mewling hiss there was no longer anyone present to overhear.
Clemens’s quarters were luxurious compared to those of the other prisoners. He had more space and, as the facility’s medical technician, access to certain amenities denied his fellow Fiorinans. But the room was comfortable only by comparison. It would not have passed muster on the most isolated outpost on Earth.
Still, he was aware of his unique position, and as grateful as he could be under the circumstances. Recently those circumstances had become a great deal better than normal.
Ripley shifted beneath the bedsheets of the cot, stretching and blinking at the ceiling. Clemens stood across the floor, near the built-ins. A narcostick smoked between his lips as he poured something dark and potent from a canister into a glass.
For the first time she saw him with his official cowl down. The imprinted code on the back of his shaven skull was clearly visible.
Turning, he saw her looking at him and gestured with the container.
‘Sorry I can’t offer you a drink, but you’re on medication.’
She squinted. ‘What is it this time?’
‘It would surprise you.’
‘I don’t doubt it.’ She smiled. ‘You’ve already surprised me.’
‘Thanks.’ He held the glass up to the light. ‘The medical instrumentation the Company left behind is rudimentary, but sophisticated enough in its way. Since we can’t always rely on supply drops I have to be able to synthesize quite a range of medications. The program that synthesizes rubbing alcohol doesn’t take much adjusting to turn out something considerably more palatable.’ He sipped at the contents of the glass, looking pleased with himself.
‘A small hobby, but a rewarding one.’
‘Does Andrews know?’ she asked him.
‘I don’t think so. I sure as hell haven’t told him. If he knew, he’d order me to stop. Say it was bad for morale and dangerous if the other men knew I could do it. I couldn’t disagree with him there. But until he does find out, I’ll go on happily rearranging ethyl molecules and their stimulating relations to suit my own personal needs.’ He held the canister over an open tumbler. ‘Don’t worry. I’ll save you some. For later.’
‘That’s thoughtful of you’?
‘Don’t mention it. When I was in school recombinant synthetic chemistry was one of my better subjects.’ He hesitated. ‘Speaking of thoughtfulness, while I am deeply appreciative of your attentions, I also realize that they manifested themselves at just the right moment to deflect my last question. In the best possible way, of course. I wouldn’t want you to think for a minute that I’d have had it any other way. But the damn thing has a grip on me and won’t let loose.’
She stared up at him, his glass held delicately in one hand.
‘You’re spoiling the mood.’
‘That’s not my intention. But I’m still a medical officer and one does have a job to do, and frankly, the more effort you put into avoiding the issue, the more curious I am to find out why.
What were you looking for in the girl? Why were you so insistent on having the bodies cremated?’
‘I get it. Now that I’m in your bed, you think I owe you an answer.’
He replied patiently. ‘Trying to get me mad isn’t going to work either. No, you owe me an answer because it’s my job to get one and because I stuck my neck out for you to give you what you wanted. Being in my bed has nothing to do with it.’
He smiled thinly. ‘Your nonresponsiveness in this matter is likely to complicate our future relationship no end.’
She sighed resignedly and turned onto her side. ‘It’s really nothing. Can’t we just leave it at that? When I was in deep sleep I had a real bad dream.’ She shut her eyes against the gruesome memory. ‘I don’t want to talk about it. I just had to be sure what killed her.’
She looked back up at the medic. ‘You have no idea what my recent life has been like or what I’ve been through. It would make your wildest nightmares seem like the fuzzy musings of an innocent five-year-old. I know that I’ll never forget any of it.
Never! But that doesn’t keep me from trying. So if I seem a little irrational or unreasonably insistent about certain things, try to indulge me. Believe me, I need that. I need someone to be concerned about me for a change. As far as Newt. . as far as the girl is concerned, I made a mistake.’
His thumb caressed the side of the small glass he held as he nodded slowly, tight-lipped and understanding. ‘Yes, possibly.’
She continued to stare at him. ‘Maybe I’ve made another mistake.’
‘How’s that?’
‘Fraternizing with the prisoners. Physical contact. That’s against the rules, isn’t it?’
‘Definitely. Who was the lucky fellow?’
‘You, dummy.’
Clemens eyed her uncertainly. ‘I’m not a prisoner.’
She gestured. ‘Then what about the code on the back of your head?’
His hand went reflexively to the back of his skull. ‘I suppose that does demand an explanation. But I don’t think this is the moment for it. Sorry. We are rather spoiling things, aren’t we?’
The intercom buzzed for attention. He looked apologetic as he moved to acknowledge the call.
‘Got to respond. I’m not allowed the luxury of refusing calls.
This isn’t Sorbonne Centrale.’ He flicked on the two-way. A thin, poorly reproduced voice filtered through.
‘Clemens?’
The medic shot her a resigned look. ‘Yes, Mr. Aaron.’
‘Andrews wants you to report to Vent Shaft Seventeen in the Second Quadrant. ASAP. We’ve had an accident.’
Suddenly involved, he turned to make certain the omnidirectional mike built into the unit got a good dose of his reply.
‘Something serious?’
‘Yeah, you could call it that,’ the assistant told him. ‘One of the prisoners on work detail got diced.’ The unit clicked off abruptly.
‘Damn.’ Clemens drained his glass and set it down on the console, turning back to his guest. ‘I’m sorry. I have to go.
Official duties.’
Ripley tensed slightly, fingering the glass. ‘I was just starting to enjoy the conversation. As opposed to other things.’
‘How do you think I feel?’ he muttered as he popped a closet and began removing clothes.
‘Maybe I should come along.’
He glanced back at her. ‘Better that you don’t. It’s one thing if I’m seen as treating you as part of my regular rounds. If everyone starts noticing us together all the time with you looking decidedly healthy, it might inspire questions. And talk. Among these guys, the less talk the better.’
‘I understand. I don’t like it, but I understand.’
He stepped into work trousers. ‘Those are the two things you have to do to survive on Fiorina. Also, I don’t think your presence would be appreciated by Superintendent Andrews.
