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acidic. "Suit integrity check," he said, his voice a little higher than usual.
"I would warn you immediately, sir, if there were any problem with-"
"Run the check."
It took less than ten seconds. "Suit integrity is intact, sir."
Was Evan imagining it or did the suit sound slightly miffed? "Thank you,"
he replied sarcastically. The creature had stopped moving. "What's it doing
now?"
"Trying to penetrate, sir. Still another voracious local lifeform. I
should guess that its red coloring is due to the presence of large amounts of
alumina in its silicate exoskeleton. It is not a photovore."
"I can see all that. Get rid of it." He started to reach down with an
arm. The limb froze halfway.
"That would not be advisable, sir. There is no point in putting excessive
strain on my fabric."
Within the suit, Evan frowned. "What are you talking about? It can't tear
the duralloy."
"No sir, but I can. I can damage myself. You see, the adhesive slime the
creature is secreting is extremely powerful. You could rip the creature to
shreds but the glue would remain on my exterior. Wouldn't a complete removal
of all foreign substances be preferable?"
"Of course."
"Then relinquish control of your left arm, please."
Evan did so, watched with interest as the small laser cane back to life.
The creature died instantly when the beam pierced it but it took nearly five
minutes to boil away the rest of the extraordinary glue it had secreted. By
the time the messy task had been completed, Evan could see several more of the
glue producers making their way toward him through the ground cover. A couple
of casual giant strides carried him well beyond their reach.
"Another integrity check," he muttered. The suit complied without
comment.
He refused to admit that he was concerned. Admittedly, the survival suits
that had been provided for the station staff were not in a class with his MHW,
but it was still unsettling to see how poorly they'd fared in protecting their
wearers. It took only seconds to run a check and he wasn't in the mood to take
chances.
Twenty-three of the station's twenty-four inhabitants were now accounted
for. Find the twenty-fourth and he could prepare for the return home. In the
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time it would take for a company ship to reach Prism to pick him up, perhaps
he could find out what had happened. He was less and less sure he wanted to.
"What about the remaining beacon?"
"I have been solidifying a fix on it, sir. It is extremely weak, though
that may not be due entirely to loss of battery strength."
Evan's interest perked up and he forgot about the corpse that now lay
half a dozen meters behind him. "What are you getting at?"
The MHW turned toward the northwest. "The nature of the fluctuation is
not constant."
"You mean, it's moving?"
"Within a small area, yes. That is the most reasonable explanation."
"°A survivor!" A survivor might be able to tell him in detail what had
happened to the station and its staff, saving him days of drudgery and
securing his triumph.
Of course, there could be other reasons for the beacon's restricted range
of movement. The beacon and the wrist it was embedded in might be resting in
the belly of some carnivore. Or the moldering corpse of Martine Ophemert might
be drifting back and forth in the eddy of a river.
He forced himself to put a leash on his excitement even as he directed
the suit to start tracking. It was unlikely anyone could have survived for so
long without the support facilities of the station. There was plenty of water,
but food was hard to find and possessed unique methods of defending itself.
Still, if this Ophemert was sufficiently resourceful and if her survival suit
was still intact, she might still be alive.
If that slim possibility panned out, he would have a chance to play the
hero. He'd always wanted to be a hero. It would suit him. Hard to become a
hero in the civilized, regulated confines of a major city.
So there were several reasons for wanting to find Martine Ophemert alive.
The suit did all the work, choosing a course through the vegetation and
operating the long metal legs. It was easy to be bored.
"Let's see the plot." He slowed to a halt.
Instantly the visor video came to life. Bright green lines formed a small
grid. In the center of the grid and off to the left pulsed a bright red dot.
"Abstracts don't tell me anything," he grumbled.
"Depending on topography we should reach the place in four or five days,
sir."
"Not bad." It would give him the opportunity to observe and record a
better cross section of local lifeforms for the company archives. "Resume
tracking." He readied himself for the resumption of motion.
The suit did not move.
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"What's the matter?" He was suddenly fearful the beacon had chosen that
moment to die.
It did not involve the distant, tantalizing signal, however.
"Look down at your feet."
Evan complied. A vitreous yellow-green gel was crawling up both legs. It [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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