Logan's Search Read Online Free PDF Page B

Mysteries of the flesh. I track them down as you track down runners.” Closer to Logan, the smile softened. “I’d say we are very much the same, you and I. What would you say?”
    And he stroked Logan’s upper arm with slow fingers.
    Logan stepped away. “I’d say the treatment is over.”
     
    Francis met him outside the gym, in a state of elation. His face was flushed and his dark eyes danced with energy.
    “It’s here, Logan.” He closed the fingers of his left hand into a fist. “It’s ours!” 
    “What are you talking about?”
    “Godbirth!”
    Logan’s heart trip-hammered at the word; he felt a surge of pure triumph. Godbirth! The gate back to Jess and Jaq…
    “Is it confirmed?”
    “Will be by tonight,” said Francis, “That’s when we’ll be officially notified by the computer. I got advance word, straight off the report line.”
    “What about our duty status?”
    “We’re up for one last hunt,” said Francis. “Then it’s freetime to Godbirth—time to do whatever we want, anywhere.”
    “For how long?”
    “Ten days. Then we’ll be taken to the Place of Miracles.” 
    “I didn’t expect it this soon,” Logan admitted.
    The gaunt man clapped Logan’s shoulder. “Means we reach Nirvana. No Sleep for us at twenty-one! We’re joining the Gods. We’ll live forever!”
    Logan had a multitude of questions he dared not ask. What was Nirvana? Who were the Gods? Where was the Place of Miracles? Was Godbirth literal immortality? What did it involve?
    Even more confusing: Why didn’t the aliens already have these answers? They seemed to know so much about details on this alternate Earth, but nothing of its central ritual.
    Why?
    Why?

    The report room: an ultrasophisticated nerve center for DS, the tracking and dispatch area from which a tide of black-clad operatives flowed out into the arteries of the southwest.
    Facing this coldly efficient meld of man and machine, designed to eliminate human life, the past was depressingly alive for Logan. Without Argos, with out Ballard, without a Sanctuary Line, it seemed impossible that any runner, however tenacious and resourceful, could escape this deadly electronic net. Indeed, on this world, the goal of outrunning the Gun was a dream turned nightmare. Hope without substance. On this Earth, Logan knew, he’d have had no chance.
    Francis touched his arm. “I’ve got our man on the board,” he said, speaking above the hive-hum of activity.
    Logan nodded.
    “He blacked at 0800, took over a police paravane, but didn’t get far in it. Crashed near Indio. Right now he’s on the desert, somewhere between Palm Springs and Indian Wells.”
    “Armed?” asked Logan, as they moved to the scanwall.
    “Fuser,” said Francis. “Got it with the paravane. Hasn’t killed anybody with it yet, but he’s likely to if someone tries to stop him. Well have to be careful.” A thin smile. “Last hunt, old friend. Let’s do it right.”
    Logan was realistic enough to know that this runner would have to die. Short of destroying Francis, there was no way for him to save the man’s life. And even if he did kill Francis to save him, another DS man would homer him. No, there was nothing he could do to help the doomed runner.
    But at least, he vowed to himself, I won’t make the kill. The final score will go to Francis.
    Behind Logan’s thoughts, Francis was filling in the runner’s history: “Escaped a state nursery in Kansas City when he was six. Arrested at ten for printing anti-Sleep material. Which cost him six months in a work compound. At sixteen, blocked a DS man on a hunt. Nineteen to twenty—pairups with at least two known subversives.”
    “Real misfit.” Logan nodded. “Guess he doesn’t like the system much.”
    “We’ve been watching him,” said a board tech. “Stayed with his sister at a quad in the Beverly sector for a while. We figured he’d run on black. Took us by surprise, though, when he grabbed that paravane. This boy’s