"Daniel Keys Moran - A Tale of the Continuing Time 01 - Emerald Eyes" - читать интересную книгу автора (Moran Daniel Keys)

moment, Robin." She pressed down again. "How so?"
"It will mean that you are either incompetent enough to have allowed radioactives to escape from
confinementтАФ"
"We don't even use radioactives."
"Irrelevant. Or it will mean that you have been targeted by ideologs." Amnier shook his head. "The
Unification Council would find that an excellent excuse to shut you down. We have not the resources to guard
an installation of questionable worth against a group of determined ideologs."
An override suddenly flashed on Suzanne's terminal. "Malko here. I'll meet you at the showers. Bring
Amnier." The override ended, and Robin's form appeared again in the terminal.
"This is," said Suzanne, the instant the thought struck her, "a fascinating coincidence, that this should
happen while you are visiting."
 Darryl Amnier smiled at her, the first true smile she had seen from him. He spoke with chilling precision.
"I have thought that myself."


Terence Kniessen, a tall fat man with a shock of red hair, met them at the showers. He was wearing his
head bubbleтАФ a barely visible line of refraction ran five centimeters around the perimeter of his skullтАФbut his
gloves had been removed. Malko was already there, undressing preparatory to entering the chemical
showers; Amnier flinched visibly at the sight of the long laser scars that crisscrossed Kalharri's body. Almost
hidden among the marks of the lasers were the small round puckered scars where bullets had entered his
flesh. Kalharri did not even glance at Amnier. He entered the first shower in the row as they began
undressing.
Terence was sweating; he took Amnier's coat, babbling instructions at the man. ". . . and then gargle with
the mouth-wash, you'll have to swallow the second mouthful. I'll meet you on the other side and show you
how toтАФ"
Suzanne interrupted him. "Terence."
He stopped speaking instantly and glanced at her sidewaysтАФhe was more of a prude than most of the
rest of the staff. "Yes ma'am?"
"You took your gloves off."
Terence let out a low moan. "Oh, damn ," he swore, and began stripping down even more quickly than the
others.


The first thing that Amnier noticed, as they cycled through the double doors that led into the labs, was the
faint smell of ozone. The bubble let filtered air through, and it was not supposed to filter anything so small as
an ozone molecule; but before he could be certain about the smell, he was led through the inner door and
found himself upon a catwalk that looked down upon chaos.
Kalharri was down there, with a pair of technicians wearing decon badges. Only one of the decon badges
bore the radiating triangle insignia that meant its wearer had passed training to deal with radioactive
materials. The tech who wore that badge was probably paid twice as much as the tech who did not; even
today, eleven-and-a-half years after the end of the Unification War, there were not enough skilled radiation
decon techs to go around.
The lab itself was huge; it was easily the largest room in what was not a small building. This, thought
Amnier, is where they work. The things that had been missing everywhere else were in abundance here:
comic strips had been inscribed in the glowpaint, and decorative calendars were hung in three different
places. The dozen or so desks that were scattered across the place were personalized to various degrees;
one that caught his eye held the holograph of a ballerina, turning eternally on point.
The laboratory was the first place Amnier had seen in the building where glowpaint gave an
approximation of yellow sunlight.
A huge laser hung nose-down from the ceiling, pointing at a table that bore a ceramic depression nearly a