"ss - Breath's a Ware That Will Not Keep 1.0" - читать интересную книгу автора (Monteleone Thomas F)

As the console began to click and chatter with the new instructions, he called his Superior, Faro Barstowe. Several seconds passed before the man's lean, fox like face appeared on the screen: "Yes, what is it?"

"Cipriano here. Breeder Tank 0078-D. Generic' name: Feraxya. My routine monitoring has picked up; what looks like a nucleotide dysfunction. Probable cause' is an inadequate enzyme transfer. Too early to tell yet. Just calling to let you know that I'm running a double check."

Barstowe's face seemed tense. "Let's see . . You've got a litter of thirty. RNA Code 45a7c. Superior Range., Administrator Class. That sound right?"

"Yes, sir. That's right," said Cipriano, watching the
man's small shining eyes burn into him, even through the screen.

"All right, Cipriano. It's been sixty-four days since implantation. That makes it too late for an in vitro injection to change or rectify the enzyme transfer. Collect all the data you can from the second scan. I'll call Bioneering and send some men over there to see what's up. That's all for now." The screen blacked out, leaving Ben with the cool sounds of the console.

When he read through the second test results, he knew that they only confirmed what he had first imagined. There was indeed a dysfunction in Feraxya's system; but he could do nothing until the Bioneers arrived. His first thought was to contact her, so that she would be aware of what was happening inside her great body. But he knew that would not be possible until he received word from Barstowe.

It was several minutes before the white uniformed specialists from Bioneering entered his booth. One of them read over the data collected from his console while the other two adjusted their white, antiseptic, helmeted suits as they prepared to enter the Breeder Tank Area itself. Cipriano looked past them, through the glass window to Feraxya, who floated within her prison still ignorant of her problems.

Later, as he watched the Bioneers scurrying about Feraxya's Tank, he wondered if she could, somehow, sense their nearness, their insensitive prying into the secrets of her grotesque body. He wanted to talk to her, and he entertained the notion of contact as his eyes fell upon the psi-helmet by the console.

One of the Bioneers returned to the booth, quickly removing his helmet and wiping some perspiration from his forehead. He looked at Cipriano and shook his head.

"What's that mean?" said Ben.

"Not good," said the man in white. "There hasn't been any reaction between the DNA/enzyme interface. The `blueprint injections' didn't copy at all. That's why you were getting the alarms."

"Which means . . . " asked Cipriano.

"Which means her fetuses would be completely variable if we brought them to term." The man paused and gestured out towards Feraxya's Tank. "Randoms -that's what we're growing in that one."

"What do we do now?"

"You'd better call Barstowe," said the Bioneer. "My men'll be making an official .report, but I think he'd appreciate knowing about it now."

Cipriano knew what Barstowe would say: they would have to remove her brood. He wondered what Feraxya's reaction to the decision would be. Remembering how pleased she had been to receive her first implantation, Cipriano did not look forward to the moment when he would have to confront her with the news.

After he had contacted Barstowe and relayed the
results of the Bioneers' inspection, the Superior shook
his head, grimacing. "That's too bad. Going to throw
us off schedule. I'll arrange for Stander to prepare for
a scrape as soon as possible. Tomorrow morning, hope
fully."


"I was wondering when I should tell Feraxya about it," said Cipriano.

The foxlike features stared at him for a moment. "You'll have plenty of time in the morning. Don't y worry about it. You really don't have anything else to do today; why don't you get out of here?"

"All right," said Cipriano. "But I hope she understands why." Barstowe didn't answer; the screen had already blacked. Ben shook his head slowly and shut down his console. He left the Eugenic Complex and took the Rapids home to his con-apt; hoping that the following day would be less difficult than this one.

That night, Jennifer wanted him.