Misfits by Steve Miller, Sharon Lee and Steve Miller Read Free Book Online Page A

the chief snapped.
    Brunner turned from the monitor and raised
his hands, one to each combatant, seeking instruction.
    Chief Thurton drew a hard breath, turned his
back on the Scout, and walked away.
    "Do as he says, Brunner. You'll give me a
full report of all actions you perform for this man, and we will
both sign a statement that you act under duress, as I do."
    Brunner bowed at the retreating back.
    "And these coordinates," he said to the
helpful room, "do I have them?"
    "In the south," the intern whispered.
"Chilonga Center."
    * * *
    On civilized worlds, among civilized people,
disasters are accidents or acts of nature; they are not
premeditated.
    In such times, a meteorologist's declaration
of disaster insures the issue of world-wide warnings and unleashes
a gathering of willing assistance. Emergency plans bring together
medical teams, rescue teams, housing teams--
    Klamath hung below the station, uncaring,
uncivilized.
    Still, it was his necessity as meteorologist
to confirm and declare the wind-borne poisons, the act of
intentional war, a disaster.
    Perhaps someone would be listening, and thus
be warned and saved.
    So his thoughts went, and he recorded the
thing, and set thumb to it.
    The Scout bowed.
    "A disaster declared, I hereby interdict and
quarantine Klamath as a hazard to space travelers."
    Brunner stared at the Scout.
    "You cannot," he said, hearing the protest
as if it was spoken by someone else.
    "I can and I do," the Scout responded,
weariness and sorrow apparent on a worn face. "Believe I do it
lightly if you must."
    Brunner brushed the words aside. They were
alone in his lab and had been for several hours. Brunner had
backtracked the flow; the Scout, on an auxiliary machine, had taken
to himself the tedious task of identifying the chemicals by their
spectrographic signatures and dispersal fugacity.
    "The mercenaries," Brunner said now,
arguing, gods, with a Scout! "The off-world techs serving the
Chilongan government. The natives who have filed for
immigration--…"
    The Scout slid off the stool and bowed the
bow of accepting necessary burdens.
    "I must," he said, and waved unsteadily at
the microphone.
    "Tell the girl--you see? I take that burden,
as well. Tell her, then get some sleep, comrade. You will be needed
at your board soon enough."
    * * *
    "Quarantined," Brunner said into microphone,
taking especial care with his pronunciation of the Terran.
    "I repeat, the Scout has interdicted
Klamath, and placed it under quarantine." He took a breath, knowing
his words were potentially recorded in records besides that of the
Stubbs unit.
    "Poison gas has been deployed against
civilian targets in contravention of general usage of warfare."
    The planetologist's equipment was powerful
enough to allow him to see bodies lying on the streets, to see
fires burning in the city, to watch Klamath's fickle winds sweeping
the vapors out of the city in a strong flow to the south.
    Not one, but three aerosol dispersants had
been loosed upon Chilonga Center. The first sank rapidly,
displacing oxygen, and suffocating some quickly. The second gas,
more mistlike, hovered and flowed in every breeze, torturing the
lungs and eyes of any who survived, eating at their skins. The
third hung higher, and featured a potential late-stage
crystallization so that it might precipitate and leave a residue of
skin-dangerous toxics.
    Cursing the winds under his breath, he had
checked the Stubbs' last reported location, all but weeping when he
found it east to northeast of Chilonga Center. Miri Robertson,
Corporal Redhead--the winds blew past her. In a planetary day,
perhaps two, the chemicals would have dispersed entirely, and what
was left of the city could be entered.
    All of this he told the Stubbs, remote and
unreachable, and when he was finished, he whispered, "Please
acknowledge."

    There was no reply. He told himself that it
was the middle of her night; that her pattern was to report in the
evenings, and sometimes very early in the