Children of a Dead Earth Book One Read Online Free Page B

constables got, but it was more than adequate. About the size of a pen, when pointed at a non-compliant suspect and activated, it triggered a short electrical spike in the suspect’s plant, causing a grand-mal seizure. Every constable had one used on them during training, to instill the seriousness of having to push the button. Benson had used it only once in his years of service.
    â€œGood. Constable Korolev, this is Madame Curator Feynman. I need you to escort her back to the museum. Make absolutely certain no harm comes to her.”
    â€œTo hell with me,” Devorah protested from behind him. “Guard the bloody painting!”
    Benson looked at her, then back at Korolev with a somewhat pained expression. “Did you get that, constable?”
    He threw another perfect salute. “Yes, detective. Madame, if you’ll accompany me, please.”
    Devorah stepped forward and sized up the young man with a withering glare. “What’d they carve you out of, boy?”
    Korolev didn’t miss a beat. “Determination, Madame Curator.”
    Devorah looked back at Benson and actually smirked. “He’ll do.”
    Benson smiled back. “I thought he might. One last question?” Devorah nodded for him to continue. “If this thing is genuine, what’s it worth?”
    â€œAn original Monet? Priceless. It would be one of the ten most important paintings in the collection.”
    Benson shook his head. You couldn’t eat it, couldn’t wear it, it didn’t recycle air or water. What value could it really have?
    â€œSo, it’s worth killing for, then?” he asked.
    â€œTo the right person, certainly. Why do you ask?”
    Benson crossed his arms. “We both have our jurisdictions, Madame Curator.”
    Devorah regarded him for a long moment, but answered only with a shrug. As the two of them walked away, Benson realized Devorah had been too engrossed in the painting to even glance at the chair. He made the executive decision to finish reading Laraby’s personnel file while sitting in it.

Chapter Three
    I t was always a little too cool in the command module for Benson’s liking. The crew had their reasons, of course. Command didn’t have the huge banks of lights designed to mimic natural sunlight, including infrared. Nor did it have the population. With fifty thousand people busy metabolizing and radiating body heat into the environment, the habitats stayed very comfortable.
    Floaters liked it cool. If you asked, they’d say the banks of computers and lab equipment worked optimally in a cooler environment. But Benson nursed the suspicion that they liked it because it made visiting cattle all the more eager to leave.
    Benson glided through the central corridor on his way to the bio-lab module, where he’d been granted the courtesy of a ten minute audience with Ms Avelina Pereira da Silva. As the head of Environmental Development and Research, she was a very busy woman these days, which she was only too eager to explain to everyone, on the off chance they hadn’t already heard it from the layers of subordinates one had to wade through to setup a meeting with her in the first place.
    Benson found the correct lock and pushed the call button. “Detective Benson to see Director da Silva, please.”
    A dark male face appeared on the monitor. “Have you showered, detective?”
    Benson smiled courteously, “I always shower before calling on a lady.”
    The gatekeeper was not amused. “Director da Silva is expecting you, but this is a class three cleanroom. You will need to go through decontamination and put on scrubs before I let you enter.”
    â€œSounds like fun.”
    â€œIt isn’t.”
    â€œYou could have softened the blow.”
    â€œNot really my strong suit, detective.” The lock’s outer door slid open with a hiss. “Please step inside and disrobe, then put your clothes in a