Survival by Julie E. Czerneda Read Free Book Online Page A

usual, then achieved two full steps before having to stop and tell Roman that no, this didn’t mean there would be weekend passes to Prince Rupert or any other shoreline destination with restaurants. A glower and five steps brought her face-to-face with Jeanine Duvois, who looked about to cry.
    â€œWhat’s wrong?” Mac asked involuntarily.
    The sudden hush wasn’t reassuring.
    â€œI didn’t have any choice, Dr. Connor. They made me do it.”
    â€œDo what?”
    Definitely close to tears. “You won’t hold it against me, please? I know my grades aren’t the best, but I’ve been trying—”
    â€œHold what against you?” Mac demanded.
    A hiccup and a wild-eyed glance around for nonexistent help. “I—I helped move the Dhryn into your quarters this morning, Dr. Connor.”
    â€œThe Honorable Delegate needs a fair amount of space,” said an unapologetic and by-now familiar voice in her ear. “Yours were the biggest available, Dr. Connor. I’m sure you understand.”
    Grad students had a finely honed instinct for when to become invisible, while staying close enough to catch the juicy details. The light slap of seawater against the floats underfoot was suddenly louder than the rain.
    Mac gritted her teeth and stared longingly at Pod Three, where her admittedly spacious quarters waited, complete with shower and clean clothes. “What about my things?” she demanded, turning to glare at Trojanowski.
    The bureaucrat eased back a step, a move that put him against the railing. “The furnishings are satisfactory,” he assured her warily. “Brymn is very accommodating about such things.”
    â€œYour personal stuff is piled in the main hall,” Jeanine sniffled in Mac’s ear. “Beside the spare generator. We didn’t have time to do anything more with it.”
    First Brymn in her river, the envelope, being summarily dragged back to Base, and now this? Ignoring Emily’s alarmed protest, Mac planted both hands against the dry fabric of Trojanowski’s suit and shoved with all her might. The bureaucrat was over the rope rail of the walkway and into the water before he could do more than tighten his grip on his umbrella.
    As the students cheered, Mac resumed walking to the pods. No one else got in her way. Emily kept up, making a few strangled noises as if testing her voice.
    â€œWhat?” Mac growled.
    â€œThink he can swim?”
    â€œThink I care?”
    â€œPoint taken.” Another few steps. “You realize the poor man probably lost his glasses.” Em lifted her cast. “We old-fashioned types are at such disadvantage.”
    â€œHe had a spare suit. He’ll have spare glasses,” Mac said, resisting a twinge of remorse. She paused at the intersection of the walkways to Pods Three and Two, then resignedly turned away from “home.” “Mind if I borrow your shower?”
    â€œAnd some clothes, no doubt. I’ve a nice little number in red that should fit.”
    The walkway became a ramp, shifting gently underfoot as they climbed in synchrony. There was another splash in the distance. Mac presumed either the bureaucrat was being rescued or her helpful students had tossed him in again. “Base coveralls will do. You were issued three pairs, remember?”
    Emily made a sound of disgust. “Fit for scrubbing bilge.”
    â€œThat could be what I’m doing.”
    â€œNot with what you’re carrying.”
    Mac wiped her hand dry on her shorts before slapping it on the entry pad. “We don’t know what I’m carrying,” she said in a low voice as the door opened. “We don’t know anything yet—but I intend to get some answers. And my quarters back.”
    â€œNo argument here. No offense, but having you for a roomie would seriously cramp my lifestyle.”
    â€œSpare me the details, please.”
    Each pod had two floors