Down by Lawrence Miles

Author:Lawrence Miles [Miles, Lawrence]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, General, Science Fiction, High Tech, Summerfield; Bernice Surprise (Fictitious Character)
ISBN: 042620512X
Google: h08LAAAACAAJ
Amazon: 042620512X
Publisher: Virgin
Published: 1997-01-02T08:00:00+00:00

Vier und zwanzig virgins came down to Inverness, chorused

the men. Und when the ball was over there were vier und

zwanzig less.

A tiny eye-shaped icon lit up on the inside of Ernst

Katastrophen‟s spectacles, a yellow neon pictogram hovering

above his left nostril. Katastrophen very nearly lifted a hand

to swat it away before realizing what it meant. He glanced

around. Nobody was watching him.

He opened a black-gloved hand. The eyeball drone dropped

out of the air, antigrav engine off-line, into his palm. He

closed his fist around it before anyone noticed, and gave the

little sphere a squeeze, pressing down its datanodes.

Instantly, the surveillance unit beamed the vid-footage it

had taken of Professor Summerfield on to the pixscreens on

the inside of Katastrophen‟s spectacles. Hopefully, from the

outside, the lights flickering across the lenses would be

mistaken for firelight reflections. If any of his men knew he

had a complete visual computer system built into his glasses,

he‟d lose that aloof, godlike air that all good leaders of men

were supposed to possess. He watched the pictures for a

while, watching Summerfield on the darkened mountain

slope. He found himself squinting to read her diary entry.

So. The professor knew.

„Mein Kommander?‟

Beside him, Doktor Fetisch was leaning over to speak to

him. The two of them stood on the edge of the camp, not far

from the brink of the mountain trail. „Ich shall survey der

area now, ja?‟ said Fetisch, in that terrible affected accent of

his. You can take cultural pride a little too far, Katastrophen

reflected. „We should take readings with der very good

SSSSSSS-issue handscan.‟

„As you wish,‟ the kommander told him. Nodding to himself,

Fetisch turned, and shambled away down the path.

Yes, thought Katastrophen. Head downward. The professor

is up the trail, and I don‟t want to be interrupted when I

speak to her. It‟s going to be hard enough as it is.

He began limping away from the campsite, up the trail. He

didn‟t risk looking around, but he was fairly sure no one saw

him go. The troops were all too busy being pretend-drunk to

take note. He hobbled onward, until the songs of the men

faded into the background. The lights of the campsite

vanished behind him, the path twisting sharply around the

mountainside.

Then he saw the torch, embedded in the ground. Professor

Summerfield was still hunched over it, her face transformed

into a brilliant yellow kabuki mask by the electric light. Her

diary was open in her hands, though she‟d stopped writing

now. She was flicking through the old entries, occasionally

frowning dubiously, as if not quite believing what she was

reading.

Katastrophen cleared his throat, politely. The professor

snapped the book shut.

„Professor Summerfield,‟ he began, with a little nod. „I wish

to speak to you. Alone.‟

The woman raised an eyebrow. „Really? I wouldn‟t have

thought I was your type.‟

Katastrophen sighed. „Please. Professor.‟

She slipped her diary into her satchel, then zipped it up in

a fashion that could only be called disgruntled. „All right. Say

what you feel you‟ve got to say.‟

„Professor, in case you hadn‟t noticed, you and I have much

in common. We are both students of antique arts and

sciences. I admit, I am not an academic, yet I am educated in

the histories and cultures of as many worlds as you are, I‟m

certain.

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