“That won’t be necessary. And when you return, take a position at the other end of the corridor.”
Kahn looked surprised, Cardos scared. “You won’t hurt her?”
“No.” She would not have to. She stepped into sick bay.
The room was small, low-ceilinged; the walls were a soft spring green. It held two beds, a screen, and a framed print on the wall opposite the door. There were no windows. Relman was clinged to the nearest bed; she looked better, not the awful pinched white of the evening before.
“One last time, Relman. Tell me what I need to know.”
Relman ignored her.
“This isn’t a game, Lieutenant, and my time and patience have just run out. I don’t want to drug you, but I will.”
This time Relman looked at her. “No, I don’t think so. Using drugs against another’s will is illegal and unethical. I know you, Danner, You won’t do it.”
Relman really believed that, Danner thought, and then was angry: with Company, with Hiam, with Relman herself for forcing her to do this.
“God dammit, Relman. Listen to me. Really listen. Forget what you know about fair play and employee rights. Right now, above our heads, people aboard the
Relman paled a little. “Then go ahead. I’m not telling you anything.”
Danner took the foil package from her pocket. When she tore it open, it released a faint antiseptic smell.
Danner rolled up Relman’s right trouser leg and slapped the patch harder than necessary behind her knee.
After two minutes, Relman began to hum. Danner recognized the tune as one that had been popular on Gallipoli about eight years ago.
“Did you know, Hannah,” Relman said conversationally, “that clings are erotically stimulating? Something to do with the electricity, I think. Makes all my nerves feel alive, and my body—”
“I don’t want to know about your body. I want you to answer my questions. Who is the other spy?”
“I don’t know.”
“Of course you—” She would try another way. “Is there another spy?”
“Oh, yes.” Relman nodded. “Oh yes, yes, yes.” She could not seem to stop nodding.
“How do you know?”
“She talks to me. On my comm.”
“Is she someone you know?”
“I don’t think so. The voice is all funny—comes through a digital coder. But I always know it’s her because she uses a code number.” Relman smiled brightly, eager to be helpful.
“How often does she contact you, and why?”
“Now and again. To tell me who to listen in on, stuff like that. I have to do what she tells me, but not only what she tells me. I called the
Relman’s voice trailed off, and she frowned. There was a sudden stink of feces. She giggled. “Oops.” Then she smiled again, as though it was a tremendous joke that she was incontinent and incapable.
Danner gritted her teeth. It was not her fault; she had needed this information. She had had no choice. Relman had.
“Why did you do it, Relman?”
“Well, ma’am, you didn’t seem quite right.” Relman grunted; urine pooled on the bed, dripped slowly to the floor. “First of all, you sided with SEC and the natives against Company. Then it, well…” She trailed off, smiled at nothing in particular. Danner waited. “We’ve been here almost five years, and the last four all we’ve done is mark time: no serious exploration, no mining. And then there’s the mods. The mods the mods the mods.”
Danner waited. “The mods?”
“You know, officers and technicians are decorating them. It’s not like anything I’ve ever seen before. Disturbing. Yes. Disturbing, disturbing, disturb—”
“Why?”
“And you’ve been reducing the guard complement. And Mirrors wear armor less and less, and off-duty civvies are handmade. Think of that, a Mirror wearing handmade clothes…” Relman suddenly seemed to focus. “And when I heard you’d ordered the fence down, what was I supposed to think?”
“You could have come and asked me.”