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

morning. He told himself
that she was safe, well away from the destruction in the city; that
she would call, if she had need of him.
    He kept the line open anyway, the microphone
clipped to his shirt, the Stubbs' uplink window open in the corner
of his work screen.
    In the meanwhile he started literature
searches: toxic flows, aerosol dispersal, plume pollutants, plume
tracking, micro-climactic poison control, history of planetary
quarantines and interdictions, general usage of warfare, strategic
poison, tactical toxics, history of Terran Mercenary Units.
    The histories held an uncomfortable number
of references to merc units being lost without record. He put them
aside for later reading and turned his attention to those things he
might do that would increase the chances of one particular
mercenary unit surviving its odds.
    * * *
    His work was twice interrupted by crew
looking for updated information for the on-going betting. He dealt
with them--not as they deserved--locked the door, disabled the bell
and returned to the literature. Eventually, he found a treatise
specifically on defensive meteorology and the tracking of dangerous
atmospherics. In the information about aerosols there were
unpleasant images, but also some useful approximations he could add
to the station's regular monitoring.
    He might even be able to--but motion
distracted him, and then sounds.
    Information was flowing from the Stubbs to
his monitor; from the speaker came sharp cracking sounds,
then--
    "You there, Brunner?"
    He touched the microphone. "Here,
galandaria."
    "Good! Hey, nothing like a little gunfire to
get you focused, right?" Despite the cheery phrasing, she
sounded--… breathless. Worn. Brunner frowned, closing his eyes so
that he might hear her better.
    "Yeah, that was bad, what happened in the
city. We lost a couple of ours in the hospital over there. I--not
the way I'd wanna go, y'know? Anyhow, business--Liz wants to know
what that means if we get a recall, that quarantine. She sent it
upline to our employer but no answer yet. Got anything you can tell
me? Before I forget--this Stubbs? It's great! Got some dings in it
but it took a couple for me and bounced 'em right out. Pretty open
here, don't think Liz is gonna keep us--Right. Gotta go. I'm glad
you was there. Out."
    She was gone, pushed by her necessities, and
he had not even said--What? he asked himself. Go carefully? Be
alert? Don't breathe tainted air?
    Perhaps he should have demanded a fuller
accounting of the damage to the Stubbs--but to what end? A glance
at the screen told him that the self-test had registered no
warnings, so the station's unit must be intact. Unlike Redhead's
unit, which had "lost a couple of ours--…"
    As to Commander Lizardi's query--certainly,
there was nothing he, caught between the station chief and the
Scout, could tell her. Chief Thurton was adamant in neutrality,
while the Scout--… while the Scout played whatever game the Scout
was embroiled in.
    What he could do was have available the best
possible wind charts, produce the most accurate weather forecast,
and not forget that down there were people relying on him. On
him!
    * * *
    Liz didn't say a word: just nodded as she
went by.
    And what was Liz gonna say anyway, Redhead
thought, not much more than half worried. Skel was a Lunatic, she
was a Lunatic--… and--… and. Damn. She sighed and finished sealing
up her uniform.
    She'd drawn first clean-up, and now here was
Skel already, washed up himself and holding a cup of coffee out to
her like it was a prize. That was nice, she thought. Warming. So
she took the cup like it was a prize, grinned at him, and worried a
little more.
    There was plenty to worry about, and not
just maybe Liz not liking it that she'd partnered up with Skel.
Folks had been skittish before word about Klamath being under
blanket quarantine had gotten into the general need-to-know pool.
Now--hell, Liz was skittish, Skel was skittish, Auifme was
downright dangerous, and the liaison