Conscience of the Beagle by Patricia Anthony Read Free Book Online Page A

do. You’ll take everything from us. Our sovereignty. Our wealth. Grasping little derelicts with your greedy little hands. You have an ugly world, Major. Ticks. That’s what we call you. Did you know that? Ticks. And Earth is a crowded, scabrous hound. I want you out of here now. I want you off my planet.”
    “Beagle.” I rise. Beagle gets out of his chair.
    “No!” Vanderslice is suddenly on his feet. “No. Listen. It’s my fault, Marvin. I’ve made a mess of this investigation from the start. Let them stay and I’ll resign.”
    The glass falls from the God’s Warrior’s hand. Shatters like a bomb against the tiles. Beagle and I flinch. Vanderslice and Marvin stand, eyes locked. Marvin is breathing hard.
    “There’s no need —” Marvin begins.
    “I can’t solve this, Marv. Don’t you understand? We’re in a box, you see? A box. And Earth played fairer than I thought they would. Marv? Are you listening? Major Holloway caught Earth’s most infamous criminal. He’s been sent to colonies before, and he comes with their highest recommendation. Dr. Taylor — and I know how you feel about constructs, Marv. Believe me, I do — but there’re only two others like him in existence. They spent a lot of money to preserve this man. Earth sent us their best. Don’t order them home. Don’t give Earth an excuse to step in. I know you’re angry. I know that. But if you want a head to roll, Marv, make it mine.”
    As if the offer has catastrophically aged him, Marvin shuffles toward the chair at his desk. He collapses into it and whispers, “Don’t ask me to do this.”
    “Marv?”
    A lengthy silence. Marvin studies the floor. Then clears his throat. “Let them stay.”
    Vanderslice nods and motions us out. We walk past the wide-eyed woman, down the plush hall and through the marble entrance. When we climb into the limo, Vanderslice orders it to the hotel.
    “Old Marvin.” At my shoulder, Vanderslice sighs. “He can be excitable. I hope that — well, anything he said — I hope it hasn’t offended you.”
    I don’t bother to reply. I’m wondering what happened in that room. Szabo said Vanderslice is lying. But God, have I misjudged him? What could he be lying about?
    “So,” he asks, “What’d you come up with on Paulie?”
    From the shadows of the opposite seat, Beagle says, “Paulie Hendrix, married to Talia Hendrix, and editor of Godly Science, a monthly journal. All the science that’s holy we’ll print, that sort of thing.”
    Vanderslice, as if he can hold it up no longer, drops his smile. “Right. What did you find out?”
    All of Beagle I can see in the strobe of the passing streetlights is a sagging cheek. The downturn at one corner of his mouth. “He was into it up to his neck. According to his DEEP files he was tired of printing the acceptable, of being governed by the Apostasy Laws. He got sick of seeing good science ruined, and joined the revolution. Whether Marv decided to off him or not remains open to question, but that’s the only question I have.”
    Vanderslice is shaking his head. “There’s no revolution. It’s all a smokescreen. I knew Paulie. He was a passive sort of guy. More at home with research. There’s something else here. And you have to find out what.” He looks at me. The entreaty in his eyes is naked. “Please, Major. You have to find out what.”
    “Beagle. Send the Hendrix files to my net.”
    A rustle. Beagle shifts his weight in the seat. “I’ll send you a summary.”
    “I want the whole thing.”
    “Double work. Senseless. A time-waster.”
    I can feel the scrutiny of Vanderslice, his breathless anticipation. I take a deep breath. The air in the limo smells of aftershave. Of nervous sweat.
    I wipe my hand down my face. It comes away greasy. “I want to see all of it. Maybe I’ll find something you missed.”
    “I doubt that. I doubt that very much. Remember, I’m the expert here, not you. If there was a Hendrix pattern, I would have found it