StarCraft II: Devils' Due (24 page)

was starting to wonder if there had been some kind of

mix-up and they were with the wrong guy.

The chitchat continued until they approached the

lab. Two out-of-shape, bored-looking security guards

stood on either side of a massive metal door. Forrest

gave them a pleasant smile and swiped his ID. Jim

and Tychus did likewise, and then the guards gave

the IDs a cursory inspection. Al went smoothly.

“Welcome to the research and development branch

of Besske-Vrain & Stalz,” one of the guards said

mechanical y as he keyed in a code. “Please fol ow al

safety instructions given to you by the medical

personnel inside the laboratory and enjoy your visit.”

Something clicked and whirred, and the door slowly

slid open.

The lab was enormous. There were long tables and

individual workstations. State-of-the-art equipment sat

next to mundane single-flame gas burners upon which

glass beakers bubbled. Scientists, clad in white coats

and wearing gloves and face masks, moved about

with deliberate speed, doing something that was

repetitive but clearly required concentration. The air

was cool and moist, obviously strictly temperature

regulated, and there was the faint hum of hardworking

machinery.

“Please put these on, gentlemen,” Forrest said,

handing them each a face mask. Tychus and Jim

obliged. “Now … this is where al the fun is.” Forrest

laughed. “I know that it certainly doesn’t look like much

fun to nonscientists. It looks a bit arcane and

perplexing.”

“Looks kinda boring more than anything, actual y,”

Tychus drawled from behind his mask. Jim glanced at

him, trying to shoot him a warning. That was hardly the

sort of thing a representative of a physicians’

organization that focused on medications would say.

Tychus was not real y cut out for this sort of thing, and

Jim worried that his attitude might give them away

before they’d gotten what they’d come for.

Forrest laughed easily. Listening to him made Jim

dislike him even more.

“That too!” the doctor agreed. “But it’s very exciting,

actual y, even if the steps become a little bit rote.

We’re searching for cures for al kinds of diseases

here, as I’m certain you know.”

Like the cancer caused by Confederate rations?

Jim thought. He had to actual y physical y clench his

teeth to not say it.

“Doctors such as yourselves wil be able to

administer medications that wil stop the progression

of deadly diseases right in its tracks. You’l be able to

test for them before they’ve even begun to manifest,

then begin preventative, lifelong treatment of your

patients. These people you’re looking at are not

merely scientists: they’re savers of lives. Heroes.

They put in long hours simply because they want to do

the right thing: help others.”

The speech was practiced, easy, and the scientists

pouring things into beakers and jotting down notes

gave halfhearted waves to the onlookers. Jim wanted

to spit. These people weren’t here for altruistic

purposes, not with the sort of pay they made. They

were here for profit. Oh, the cures for diseases just

might actual y be discovered here, but not because

the doctors were bleeding hearts who wanted to Do

Good. It was because curing diseases—or, rather,

developing medicines that people would need to

take, preferably long-term—was highly profitable.

So was hooking people on drugs.

Jim and Tychus nodded politely. Forrest led them

around to various stations, chatting away about what

each chemical was, and what it did, and so on. The

chrono moved to 1300, over halfway through

Halcyon’s twenty-five-hour day, and while no loud

siren blared, the reaction of the scientists was as

uniform as if one had. They put down data logs,

removed masks, traded lab coats for regular ones,

and left for lunch. The last to leave—a woman who

appeared to be in her thirties, with black hair and blue

eyes—paused and looked uncertainly at Forrest.

“Run along, Madeleine,” Forrest said. “I’l finish up

here and take them out for lunch in a little bit. There

are just a few more things I’d like to show our guests.”

Madeleine glanced over at Jim and Tychus. Tychus

leered and Jim rol ed his eyes. She turned back to

Forrest and nodded.

“Of course, honey.” She removed her mask, tugged

his down and kissed him, smiled at Jim and Tychus,

and left.

“My wife,” Forrest explained. Jim stared at him as

he and Tychus removed their own masks.

“She wasn’t part of the deal,” Tychus said. “We ain’t

taking two people.”

“Of course you’re not,” Forrest said smoothly. He

smiled. “I’m sure Mr. O’Banon can provide me with

someone to assuage my grief at being forced to

leave my darling bride. Now, we’ve got about fifteen

minutes before I’m technical y in violation of the rules.

We’ve probably got about five more minutes after

that; as I’m certain you’ve observed, enforcement is

rather lax here. Watch the door.”

Jim was taken aback at the man’s cal ousness, but

supposed that he should have expected it. After al ,

Forrest had cheerful y sold out to a notorious crime

lord and intended to use his knowledge to help

produce addictive drugs.

And I’ve sold out to a notorious crime lord to get a

bounty hunter off my back, and now I’m helping this

scum to become a billionaire
, he thought.
Who’s

worse?

“I don’t need no girl-handed doctor tel ing me my

job,” Tychus said. He seemed as irritated with Forrest

as Jim was, but Jim wondered if it was for the same

reasons.

Tychus went to the door to stand watch while Jim

kept an eye on Forrest. The doctor quickly

downloaded information from various sites, and then

moved around the room, pocketing smal items. At

one point his sleeve fel back, and Jim saw what the

smal key that had been in their assignment packet

was for. Fastened around the middle part of Forrest’s

lower arm was a smal box.

“The formula?”

“And an extremely pure sample of Utopia,” he said.

“Hottest designer drug on the market. Everyone’s

scrambling to replicate it, and so far they haven’t.”

Utopia. No wonder this guy was such a hot item.

Addiction was usual y swift and hard to break.

Something about how the drug altered the brain.

Utopia apparently gave one of the highest highs ever,

with a mild crash and few side effects—initial y, at

least. After a few hits, the highs didn’t come as high. It

took more and more of the drug to produce the same

effect. In some cases, severe adverse reactions had

occurred, with test subjects going into fatal

convulsions. Jim didn’t know much more and didn’t

want to.

“So you’re the guy who made this?”

“Indeed.” Forrest shot him a grin. “Started out as an

attempt to make a real y good painkil er.”

“Sounds like you succeeded,” Jim said. He was

pretty sure he had managed to keep the contempt out

of his voice.

“Ten minutes,” Tychus growled.

“Almost done.” A few more items went into sealed

compartments in Forrest’s pockets.

“Now, I can’t help but wonder,” Tychus drawled,

“why we need you if we got the formula and a

sample.”

Forrest’s silver head whipped up, and his blue eyes

were like chips of ice. “Because the formula is

missing something. Something that’s here.” He

tapped his temple.

“My boss paid for you and the formula,” Tychus

said, turning away from the door. He had his gun out

now, and lifted it slowly. “You ain’t trying to cheat him,

are you?”

“No,” Forrest said dryly. “I’m trying to make sure I

survive being smuggled off this planet by hired thugs

like you.”

Tychus clapped a hand to his chest. “Aw, now, Dr.

Forrest, you done gone and hurt ol’ Tychus Findlay’s

feelings.”

A smal , elegant pistol appeared from nowhere in

Forrest’s hand. “I’l hurt something else if you don’t

lower that weapon immediately.”

“Oh, for Pete’s sake,” Jim said. “Let’s al just get out

of here, al right?”

It was then that the lights went out.

“What the hel ?” Forrest’s voice was high with

alarm. “Tel me this is part of the plan.”

“No, it ain’t,” said Jim. The lights had gone out, but

there were stil a few gas-lit burners going. He

wondered why the doctors had left them on; probably

they assumed that Forrest, as the last one to leave,

would turn them off. The light was not enough to see

much, but it was something. “Stay calm, Dr. Forrest.

Do you have what you need?”

“Close enough.” The voice was shaking. Jim

smirked in the darkness. Jerk was probably pissing

his pants.

“Shouldn’t there be some emergency lights?” Jim

asked. “I mean, this is a pretty significant and state-of-

the-art research lab. Isn’t there backup in case of a

power outage?”

“I—I don’t know,” stammered Forrest. “There’s

never
been
a power outage. I think there should be,

yes.”

“I don’t like this one damn bit,” said Tychus. “Let’s

get out of here pronto.”

Forrest suddenly pushed past Tychus, trying and

failing to open the door.

“Damn it,” muttered Forrest. He started banging on

the door. “Hel o? Guards! Help! The door won’t open!”

Unease was prickling at the back of Jim’s neck.

Something wasn’t right.

And then he knew. “Tychus, get away from the—”

Tychus had apparently been thinking along the

same lines, because the second Jim cal ed his name,

he turned and flung himself as far away from the door

as possible.

The door exploded with a deafening sound. Dr.

Forrest, who had been pounding on it, begging to be

let out, didn’t stand a chance. His dismembered body

and large chunks of hot, jagged metal flew into the

room. Tychus and Jim dove for cover from the

shattered glass as Forrest’s head and a piece of the

door landed on one of the large tables. They got to

their feet and trained their weapons on the doorway.

The shape of a man loomed there, blocking the

exit. They fired repeatedly, seeming to fil the figure

with bul ets, but it stil stood. A laugh fil ed the room,

and as the smoke cleared, the two men recognized

the tal figure.

Ezekiel Daun.

Jim felt as if his muscles had turned to liquid as

terror surged through him. At least two dozen bul ets

had gone right through the—

“Goddamned hologram!” Tychus bel owed. “Come

on, Jimmy; let’s not let this rat bastard have playtime

with us again.”

A hol ow laugh fil ed the room, seeming to come

from everywhere. “Wel done, Mr. Findlay. Sharp

eyes, squinty though they are.”

“Jimmy!” Tychus’s voice was sharp and brittle as

glass. Jim knew his friend wel enough to know that

Findlay, too, was struggling against panic. “Get the

stuff off of Forrest.
Now!
”

Having something specific to do helped Jim focus.

He sprang into action, stymied only momentarily when

he realized that Forrest was actual y in several

pieces, then spotted his torso lodged underneath a

table. The smal metal box was stil attached to the

right arm.

“Don’t go to pieces like your friend did,” came

Daun’s mocking voice, “even though you are trapped

like rats. Rather appropriate, as you’re about to die in

a lab.”

“Ain’t about to die anywhere—not yet,” snarled

Tychus. Jim was fumbling with the key, and when he

dropped it and it clattered away into the darkness, he

gave up and drew out a knife he always kept in his

boot. Grunting, he began to hack at the limb.

“You know … Feek said the same thing,” mused

Daun. “It was one of the last things he ever said. I

found his voice irritating, so I cut out his tongue. He

was stil able to scream for some time after that. Do

you want to know what it sounded like?”

Jim felt fresh sweat break out under his arms as he

continued cutting through the dead arm. It was a