Loralynn Kennakris 1: The Alecto Initiative by Owen R. O'Neill, Jordan Leah Hunter Read Free Book Online Page B

progressed around the
room and talked to each of them briefly. When she reached Kris she asked the
expected have-everything-you-need questions, and Kris mentioned it would be
nice to have some underwear.
    The commander smiled—she was warmer up close—and
apologized. “We did up your kit on rather short notice. I’ll speak to the
ship’s purser tonight. They will have something more suitable for you in the
morning.”
    Why short notice? That was just weird . . .
    Kris decided she was acting paranoid, said thanks and
t’Laren moved on. Kris thought that the warmth could go on and off like a
light. Finally, she made a brief exiting address and left.
    Kris lay back on her bunk, reading a book on the swing-out
viewer and trying to ignore the ripple of gossip that lapped at her ears.
Lights-out sounded after awhile; she flipped off the viewer, rolled over, and
went almost immediately to sleep.
    *     *     *
    The next morning Kris got up
late, ignoring reveille, and found the promised parcel by her bunk. It
contained a woman’s green jumpsuit, a couple of changes of underwear and a
note: “Hope these fit—Isabeau t’Laren, Exec .” Kris was oddly touched by
the personal note. She dressed and showered and made it to sickbay only a
little late for her appointment.
    There, she met the grim-faced medical director of yesterday
and he didn’t look any happier this morning. If she had heard his name, she'd forgotten
it. Perched on a chair in one of the examination rooms—the concept of relaxing
seemed foreign to him—he asked her some preliminary questions: standard stuff
like name, age, siblings, place of birth and where she went to school. Then he
tersely explained how the tests would go. She would be asked three sets of
questions; she could answer anyway she chose. Each set would be asked twice,
the second time under examination. She could stop the testing at any time.
    “What happens if I do that?”
    “That depends on the context,” he answered gruffly. “It is
usually better if you don’t.” He took out a device like a large stylus,
unfurled it to the size of a standard sheet of plaspaper and began jotting
notes on it. Kris didn’t recognize the thing but they seemed quite common here.
The officers and noncoms all had one; some
of the rates did too—specialists, she figured—and they were always using them.
The device appeared to combine the functions of a cel and tablet or mempad,
but this was the first time she’d seen one used in this particular
configuration. Before, she’d only seen people expand theirs to a size bigger
than a typical cel but a little smaller than a mempad. No one had told her a
thing about them—the name or if they were strictly military issue—but they
were clearly more powerful than anything you’d find in the colonies, especially
in the Outworlds.
    The medical director stopped writing and looked up. “Ready?”
    “Yeah.”
    He had her recline on the padded sickbay bed, attached a
blood-pressure monitor and several electrodes; one to the side of her neck, one
just above her left breast, two to her forehead, one to right wrist. Then he
slipped a small cuff over her left index finger. “You’ll feel a prick at
sometime during the test—it’s a blood sample. It will only happen once, but
I’m afraid I can’t tell you when.”
    She nodded.
    He placed a dim red light on a movable arm above her face,
about the size and shape of a penlight. “This light will be lit when the
examination is in progress. It will not seem steady—the brightness may vary
and it may appear to move. That’s normal. You might get drowsy, and that’s
normal too.
    “But if you start to feel nausea, or panic or extreme
hostility—an urge to inflict harm on someone—me, for instance—that is not normal. Tell me immediately and we’ll stop the test. Do you understand?”
    She nodded— Yes .
    “Anything you want to ask before we begin?”
    A head shake— No .
    “Alright, I’ll