Misfits Read Free Page A

some
discomfort. Certainly, she was young; at a guess, several years
younger than he, and--solely in his opinion--far too young to be at
war. But there, the planetary news source most usually available to
the station insisted that the "free-breeders" routinely armed
children younger than ten Standards. What the news source did not
make plain was if those children were armed defensively, or
offensively.
    "Security," said the Scout, talking either
to the room at large or to the commander, "simply means
acknowledging that we have a mobile unit on the surface. We can
have no secrets about this: all we are doing is making sure that
the planet below gets the kind of meteorological coverage it
deserves. Given the interconnectedness of all things, weather
belongs to the whole world. And the weather where you are bound, my
friend--can teach us something, I'm sure."
    The Scout looked to him--a request for
agreement, perhaps, or a reminder of his question?
    "Yes," Brunner murmured, directing his reply
to both Scout and commander. "Yes, if this item is in my inventory,
it needs to be used if possible."
    There. It was said. And there was another
thing that needed, yet, to be said.
    He turned to directly face Commander Liz
Lizardi, and bowed slightly, promising an accurate account of a
problematic situation. "Understand that our channels are sometimes
monitored.… Someone on the surface is searching for weather units,
and destroying them. I have no doubt that by carrying such a device
you will make your force--… it could attract the attention of those
you may not be sided with."
    She smiled, did the commander and gave a
casual salute, as if acknowledging the intent of his bow.
    "Comes with the territory, sir. We're going
down there to straighten out a mess; happens the folks on the other
side might not appreciate us much, with or without your piece of
equipment. Weather's a big issue down there--almost another army,
by what I've seen of the records. If that machine lets me know what
I've got headed my way--well, sir, it's worth the risk, from where
I stand."
    Brunner inclined his head, accepting her
summation.
    "In that case, I am in favor of going
forward. I require the person who is to carry the unit have some
formal training beyond, ‘If you push this, the machine will work.'…
But I myself will need to read the manuals, as this is not the
machine I was trained on."
    "You would, huh? Well, me too." She looked
at the Scout, but it was Jack who answered.
    "We can hold the docking hub for you for two
orbits, Liz. More'n that, it'd look like we're taking sides--"
    "Understood." She made what might have been
a gesture of dismissal-- or a call to action, and raised her
voice.
    "Redhead! Front and center!"
    * * *
     
    Tech Brunner, the guy who was going to teach
her how to use the weather rig, was short--not dumpy, just small
and skinny, kinda like her--maybe shy, or maybe just nervous. Hard
to tell how old he was--didn't she know how easy it was to suppose
years off somebody just 'cause they were short and small? His face
was smooth, except for some strain-lines around his eyes and his
mouth, like he spent too much time in front of his screens, looking
at things that didn't make him happy. His hair was what they called
"ditchwater blond" back home, not showing any gray; and his eyes
were real dark brown, like high-grade chocolate. He had a good
voice, firm and cool, and an accent that made it sound almost like
he was singing.
    He didn't have any service marks on his
sleeves; his uniform was basically just ship clothes: a shirt with
his name above the pocket, slacks with a name on the left rear
pocket, no hatch marks. The shirt did have a cloud with
lightning-bolt on the pocket, just under his name--she guessed that
was maybe a company or team logo, and didn't help at all with
guessing how old he might be.
    He amused Liz for some reason, and she held
him back to walk with her and her friend the Scout, waving Redhead
and the weather rig on