Janus Trap by James Axler

Author:James Axler
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Worldwide Library
Published: 2009-01-15T00:00:00+00:00

“DAMN IT!”

In the Cerberus operations center, Skylar Hitch flung down her miniature screwdriver in annoyance. Donald Bry looked up at her from his monitoring post beside Lakesh on the other side of the room.

“Something wrong, Skylar?” Bry asked.

Hitch looked at him, her frustration turning to embarrassment as she realized that everyone in the room had turned to watch her when she had let out that cry of annoyance. “Just…I can’t get this stupid capacitor to…Argh!” The normally timid computer tech looked as though she was going to punch the desk in front of her, where the circuit boards that she was working on resided.

Next to Donald Bry, Lakesh checked his desktop chron and spoke to Skylar in a soothing tone. “It’s almost 9:00 p.m.,” he began, “and I rather suspect you were working at this problem before I came in this morning, Skylar. Why don’t you go to your quarters and get some sleep.”

Skylar looked about to argue until Lakesh added reasonably, “Our old, worn-out computers will still be there in the morning.”

“Thank you, Dr. Singh,” Skylar acquiesced after a moment’s thought. She ran a hand through her hair, pushing at her dark bangs where strands had escaped the ponytail she wore, before standing up. She reached for the screwdriver and placed it carefully beside the motherboard at a perfect ninety-degree angle to the edge of the desk. “I’m sorry,” she said apologetically as she passed Lakesh’s desk on her way to the main door.

“Think nothing of it,” Lakesh told her, his smile warm and sincere. “See you tomorrow, Skylar.”

When the tech had left, Lakesh turned back to the report that he had been assessing with Donald Bry before pausing, a thoughtful, faraway look in his eye.

“Shall we get back to this report, Doctor?” Bry asked after a moment.

Lakesh glanced at him and smiled. “You know, it is getting late for all of us,” he decided in a loud voice. “Why don’t we conclude this tomorrow, when fresher heads will prevail, I’m sure.” With that, he dismissed the bulk of the monitoring team, leaving only a two-man crew to watch things. With no one out in the field, the Cerberus operations center could function with a skeleton staff quite easily; most of the monitoring systems functioned automatically and rarely needed input from a human being.

The remaining crew were Brewster Philboyd, who stayed at the communications desk to monitor any incoming calls, and Trent, the sallow-faced operator whose primary responsibility this day was for the mat-trans, but who would double as general systems checker and button pusher until the next shift came on at 1:00 a.m.

Brigid Baptiste remained behind, too, despite Lakesh’s suggestion that she call it a day. “You were out in the field this morning, and you’re still working on your reports,” he chastised her.

“It’s a field report,” she explained, peering up from her desk over the rectangular frames of her eyeglasses. “I like to get these finalized while all the information is still fresh in my mind.”

Lakesh snorted with laughter.

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