Seventh Read Online Free Page B

were nearly in synch with my own steps.  Every so often, though, I would place my foot only to hear a second footfall, distant, a millisecond later.  A chill ran up my back and I turned in place to look behind me. 
                Far behind me, down the corridor which I had just traveled, stood the silhouetted figure of a man.  He had stopped when I had and stood still, staring back at me up the hall.  Perhaps I shouldn't have been startled.  I was, after all, in one of the heaviest trafficked areas of the ship.  The movie halls, gyms, and other recreational services were all along this corridor.  Why, then, did my pulse quicken and a cold sweat form on my brow as I watched the other figure, still too far away to make out clearly.  There was no sign that he was anything other than what he appeared.
                Why had he been following me?  Why had he been matching his footfalls to my own?  Paranoia was another sign of DSD.  The doctor, which Odyssey insisted I had not actually seen, had said I had DSD. 
                I stiffened my back and turned away from him, and began walking towards the comfort center again.  I took another fifteen steps, changing my pace randomly, and I could hear the distant scuff of my follower's feet echoing my movements, but not perfectly.  I turned to face him again.  He was still the same distance away, and he didn't move a muscle as I turned again. I felt as though we were involved in some bizarre version of the childhood game of spotlight, where when I turned around the opposition had to stand immobile or else be called out of the match. We stood staring at each other down the corridor. 
                "Is there something I can do for you, Sir?"  I asked, addressing the other as a senior officer.  As a cadet, almost everyone was senior to me anyway.  It couldn't hurt to be formal.
                The other didn't reply, and he didn't move.  I chewed at my lower lip for a second and took a deep breath before I forced myself to step in the direction of my pursuer.  I would bring this confrontation to a head before my nerves got the better of me.  Besides, I was trained in self-defense and hand-to-hand combat.  I was top of my class in three different martial arts.  There was no reason for me to be intimidated by one person.
                He stepped back as I moved towards him.  His motion was oddly mechanical and ragged, as though he wasn't sure how to use his legs, or as if they didn't fit properly into his hips.  It was disturbingly unnatural to watch, and I was suddenly overcome by an urge to run in the opposite direction as fast as my legs might carry me, despite my self confidence in my ability to fight.  Was that the DSD?  Was I having a paranoid reaction to a casual meeting with someone in a hall?
                "Oh, there you are."  A female voice drifted down the hallway, coming from the silhouette. 
                "Do I know you?"  I spoke hesitantly.  The instinct to escape was still coursing through my system, an intense rush of adrenaline fueling a near uncontrollable panic.  That the figure spoke did little to appease the terror I felt building up inside of me.  Why couldn't I see her more clearly?  She was not exactly close, but it felt like my eyes couldn't settle firmly on her shape. 
                "I've been looking everywhere for you!"  She said as she took a step in my direction, her leg twisting awkwardly at the knee as it moved forward. 
                "Listen, I'm not feeling well, so maybe you should just stay where you are."  I said, taking a step back.  I was suddenly much less interested in confronting my follower.  Years of hand-to-hand combat training swept away from me as if they were a fallen leaf caught on a strong breeze. 
                "Oh, there you are."  The female voice chimed down the hallway, exactly mimicking