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Minutes passed, the shuttle bumped something solid, and gravity reasserted itself. Not Earth gravity, or Mars gravity, but something in between.
I figured everyone would take off and leave me to move the kid by myself, but such was not the case. Doc stayed, as did the twins, and I had plenty of help taking Sasha in
through the habitat s lock: a lock that was labeled  For Emergency Use Only, and clearly off the beaten track. And that was a good thing, considering the reception we got on Mars. A
motorized cart and driver were waiting. I watched as the twins strapped the stretcher into place.
 Climb aboard. The driver will take you to the hospital.
I turned to find Quint standing next to my shoulder. The ever-present cigar rolled from one side of his mouth to the other.  Thanks for the transportation.
He shrugged.  It s all part of the service. She looks like a nice kid. I hope she makes it.
I looked around, hoping to enlist Doc s help, or at least thank him, but he had disappeared. I threw my duffel in the back, took the seat next to the driver, gave Quint an optimistic
thumbs-up, and held on as the cart jerked into motion. Beacons had been mounted front and back. They flashed on and off as we whirred down the corridor. The walls were made of
machine-cut rock and were plugged where core samples had been taken.
We came to an intersection, paused, and took a right-hand turn. This corridor was five lanes wide. The centermost space was reserved for a monorail. The train approached
from the opposite direction, roared by, and blasted us with displaced air. I had the impression of windows and hundreds of helmeted heads.
Our driver waited for a break in traffic, pulled into the fast lane, and activated his siren. It made a bleating sound, and he grinned as vehicles pulled out of the way. The driver
didn t get many opportunities to drive full out and put his boot to the floor. Rubber screeched, and I felt G forces push me against the back of my seat. Convinced that we were in at least
semicompetent hands, I studied my surroundings in the hopes of learning more about our temporary home.
The first thing I noticed was the orderliness of our surroundings. There were signs of it in the lighting, the well-maintained pavement, and the graffiti-free walls. And it wasn t that
people didn t have spray paint, because you could see where they d used it only to have their efforts masked by neatly applied squares of rock-gray paint.
No, the unrelenting neatness gave the impression of centralized control, of rules that couldn t be broken, of punishments waiting to be imposed. Which, though not especially
surprising in what amounted to a company town, gave the place a repressive feel, and went against my somewhat rebellious grain.
But if I missed the free-for-all atmosphere of home, I didn t miss the trash-filled corridors, neon-lit dives, and the two-legged scum that frequented them. And speaking of scum,
what about our poppers? Had they killed us, rather than the other way around, they d be reporting in about now, and clamoring for their pay. So what would happen when the call didn t
come? When the corpies discovered that their goons had disappeared? People would come looking for us, that s what. People with guns.
A person with a full set of brain cells might have come up with a plan, might have hatched some sort of scheme, but not me. All I could do was feel frustrated, get medical help,
and hope for the best.
The cart negotiated a corner, wove between a scattering of parked vehicles, and screeched to a halt. A pair of almost identical androids hurried over. Both wore red crosses
painted across their otherwise bare chests and had names stenciled on their foreheads. Fric had blood splattered on one shoulder and Frac had a faulty wrist seal. A steady stream of
green fluid dribbled down his plastiflesh fingers and dripped to the pavement. He smiled reassuringly.  May we help?
I gestured towards the stretcher.  Yes, you can. The lady is ill. Would you take her inside?
The robots could and would. I thanked the kid, grabbed my duffel, and gave him a tip. He nodded and got some rubber as he left. Joy tried to escape from my pocket and I
shoved her back in. The last thing I needed right then was a naked robot running around. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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