Refraction
Page 32
“Most psionics have issues. A long voyage might do her good. Bring her out of her shell.”
“She suffers from the occasional loss of consciousness while wide awake, a condition the Jamal researchers term ‘psychic blackouts.’ Even more disturbing, she’s been known to inflict bodily harm on herself through self-flagellation or other means. Presumably, she does this as an analgesic against some unknown emotional torment originating in childhood.”
The VP looked bored. He stroked the lion’s back. The animal hissed.
The assignor tabbed open another part of LeaMarsa’s file and made a final stab at getting his concerns across. “Sir, to quote the Jamal analysts, ‘LeaMarsa de Host is a disturbing jumble of contradictory emotions. It is imperative that careful consideration be given to placement in order to prevent–’”
“The Alchemon is one of the newer ships, isn’t it? Full security package?”
“Yes sir, the works. Anti-chronojacker system with warrior pups. And of course, a Level Zero Sentinel.”
“A very safe vessel. I don’t believe she’ll cause any problems that the ship and crew can’t handle.”
The assignor knew he had to take a stand. “Sir, putting someone like her aboard that ship could create serious issues. And wouldn’t it make more sense for her vast talents to be utilized on a mission here on Earth, something with the potential for a more lucrative payoff?”
“Better for her to be first given a less critical assignment to gauge how she handles team interaction.”
“Yes sir, that makes sense, but–”
Zoobondi held up a hand for silence. He slid off the edge of the desk and removed a safepad from his pocket, stuck the slim disk to the wall. A faint, low-pitched hum filled the office as the safepad scrambled localized surveillance, rendering their conversation impervious to eavesdropping. The lion squirmed on the VP’s shoulder, bothered by the sound.
“We’re entering a gray area here,” Zoobondi said. “Trust me when I say it’s best you don’t pursue this subject.”
The assignor could only nod. If things indeed went bad, he likely would be the one to take the fall. And there was nothing he could do about it.
Zoobondi smiled and threw him a bone. “I believe you’re due for a promotional review next month.”
“Yes sir.”
“Everything I’ve read suggests you’re doing a fine job. Keep up the good work and I’m certain that your promotion will come through.”
The VP deactivated and pocketed the safepad and strolled out the door. The assignor was relieved he was gone. There were dark tales murmured about Renfro Zoobondi. He was ruthlessness personified, supposedly having arranged for the career sabotage of g men and women standing in the path of his climb up the corporate ladder. There was even a rumor that for no other reason than the twisted joy of it, he’d killed a man in armor-suit combat.
The assignor returned to the file on the Alchemon expedition. Reading between the lines, he wondered whether researching a primordial lifeform was really the mission’s primary purpose. Could Pannis have a different agenda, a hidden one?
He closed the file. If that was the case, there was little to be done. He was midlevel management, an undistinguished position within a massive interstellar corporation. Going against the wishes of a man like Renfro Zoobondi was career suicide. The assignor had a wife and young daughter to consider. What would happen to them if he lost his job and possibly fell into the ranks of the “needful majority,” those billions who were impoverished and struggling? It wasn’t so farfetched, had happened to a good friend only last month.
That night, the assignor slept fitfully. In the morning he awoke covered in sweat. He’d been in the clutches of a terrifying nightmare.
Thankfully, he couldn’t recall any details.
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