The Human Division #9: The Observers Read Online Free Page A

Conclave?” Lowen asked. “Four hundred alien races not actively killing each other. Doesn’t that make it a little less scary?”
    “For those four hundred races? Sure,” Wilson said. “As long as it lasts. For everyone else? Still scary.”
    “You’re cheerful,” Lowen said.
    “I prefer ‘realist,’” Wilson said.

    Six drinks, even later:
    “Are you green everywhere?” Lowen asked.
    “Excuse me?” Wilson said.
    “I am asking purely on scientific grounds,” Lowen said.
    “Thanks,” Wilson said, dryly. “That makes it so much better.”
    “I mean, unless you prefer unscientific reasons for me asking,” Lowen said.
    “Why, Dr. Lowen…” Wilson feigned shock. “I am not that kind of boy.”
    “Once again, I am skeptical,” Lowen said.
    “Tell you what,” Wilson said. “Ask me that question sometime when you haven’t just consumed a substantial portion of a bottle of fine single-malt Scotch whisky in a single sitting. If you’re moved to do so, you might get a different answer from me.”
    “Fine,” Lowen said sourly, and then looked over at Wilson somewhat as an owl would. “You’re not drunk,” she said.
    “No,” Wilson said.
    “You drank as much as me, and I’m drunk as a skunk,” she said. “Even accounting for body mass, you should be plastered, too.”
    “Benefit of the new body,” Wilson said. “A much higher alcohol tolerance. It’s more complicated than that, but it’s late and you’re drunk, so maybe we’ll save it for tomorrow. Speaking of which, it’s time to get you into your crawl space, if you want to be at the negotiations tomorrow without a hangover.” He stood up and offered his hand to Lowen.
    She took it, wobbling only slightly. “Whoa,” she said. “Someone did something to the artificial gravity.”
    “Yes,” Wilson said. “That’s it exactly. Come on.” He navigated her through the corridors and up the decks to the berths Captain Coloma had assigned to the observers.
    “Almost there,” Wilson said to Lowen.
    “About time,” Lowen said. “I think you took the scenic route. The scenic route that spins a bit.”
    “Maybe I’ll bring you some water,” Wilson said. “And some crackers.”
    “This is an excellent idea,” Lowen said, and then jumped a little at the noise of the door of one of the berths flying open and slamming against the bulkhead.
    Wilson looked toward the noise and saw Thierry Bourkou, looking frantic. “Is everything all right, Mr. Bourkou?” he asked.
    Bourkou turned to Wilson, saw Lowen on his arm and rushed toward them. “Dani, Dani, come quick,” he said. “It’s Cong.”
    “What’s Cong?” Lowen asked, less tired and slurred than moments before. Wilson could see the panic on her colleague’s face, and his alarmed tone was pushing the drunkenness down. “What is it?”
    “He’s not breathing,” Bourkou said. “He’s blue and he’s not breathing.” He grabbed Lowen’s hand and pulled her down the corridor toward his berth. “He’s not breathing and I think he might be dead.”

    “He was fine when he lay down,” Bourkou said. “He and I have both been feeling tired, so we both took naps at the same time. Then he started snoring, so I turned on the white noise machine. Then I fell asleep. When I woke up I told him I was going to get him some tea and asked him if he wanted any. He didn’t respond, so I went to shake him. That’s when I saw his lips were blue.”
    All of the observers were in the Clarke ’s medical bay, along with Wilson, Abumwe, Captain Coloma and Doctor Inge Stone, the Clarke ’s chief medical officer. Liu was also there, on a stretcher.
    “Did he say anything other than that he was tired?” Stone asked Bourkou. “Did he complain about any other pains or ailments?”
    Bourkou shook his head. “I’ve known Cong for ten years,” he said. “He’s always been healthy. The worst that’s ever happened to him is that he broke his foot when a motorcycle ran over it while