Steel Sky Read Online Free PDF

FINGERTIPS
    Edward Penn runs frantically down the crowded, narrow hall, knocking people out of his way. He skids to a stop outside Mosley’s room. Gripping the doorjamb, he scans the room, looking for a telltale shimmering in the air.
    “Is he here yet?” he asks. Mosley’s two sons stand up. Their mouths hang open, but they say nothing. The helpless look on their faces indicates that they know what his question means.
    “ Is he here ?” he repeats. They look around, uncertain. The air in the room is quiet and still. Mosley, a middle-aged man peppered with lymphoma, lies asleep in the bed, his head bent in an awkward pose. He snores softly. The sickly sweet odor of human decay hangs about him.
    Edward pushes past the stupefied young men and unlocks the wheels on Mosley’s bed. “Help me push him out of here,” Edward says. “Maybe we can get him to another room before the Deathman comes.” “ I am here .”
    The cold, quiet voice comes from a spot just behind Edward. He turns and sees that corner of the room darken and sink into a black hole. The hole twists and buckles into the shape of a man. Edward gives an involuntary gasp. He has been standing next to the Deathsman the whole time. He lets go of the bed. It continues to turn slowly, finally bumping to a halt against the wall.
    The Deathsman stands utterly still, his body hidden within the folds of his black, floor-length cloak. His tight hood is completely featureless, without even holes for his eyes. He is more silhouette than man. The only decoration is an ornate silver filigree around his collar. “There’s been a mistake,” Edward says, keeping his voice as level as possible. “This man is in good shape, with an excellent prognosis.”
    “The Brotherhood of Peace and Reconciliation thinks otherwise, Doctor.” The Deathsman’s voice is strangely atonal. His jaw does not move beneath the hood. “Please step aside.”
    “You can’t have him.”
    “Doctor, you may recall that you signed an agreement when you joined this hospital. My authority supercedes yours in this case.”
    “I also took an oath.”
    The faintest touch of impatience creeps into the Deathsman’s voice. “This confrontation is futile, Doctor, as well as unseemly. Think of the children.” The Deathsman turns his head in the direction of Mosley’s sons on the other side of the bed. The younger one has begun to cry.
    “I am thinking of them.”
    The Deathsman slips one hand silently out from beneath the black cloak. Thin, bright wires trace across it, flowing in arcane circuit patterns toward the fingertips encased in silver. He flexes his hand to make sure Edward understands the implied threat. “I will ask you once more to step aside.”
    Edward faces the Deathsman silently, and considers his options. Though the Deathsman has not moved, Edward can see his jaw clench beneath his tight hood, his body tense for a confrontation. Edward will either have to back down or try to physically keep the Deathsman away from his patient. It seems unlikely Edward would win such a struggle. Equally remote is the hope that he could convince the Deathsman to walk away. The dark figure is as implacable as the murder he carries in his fingertips.
    Edward turns to Mosley’s children. “There’s one more test I want to perform. Help me pull down the covers.”
    “Really, Doctor . . .” But as the Deathsman speaks, Edward spins and throws a punch at his hooded face. Seemingly unsurprised, the Deathsman whispers backward, his cloak billowing around him so Edward’s fist glances off his shoulder. As if in defiance of physics, the Deathsman bobs forward again. His silver-tipped hands shoot forward. Edward manages to grab the hands by the wrists. He grapples with the Deathsman, fighting to keep the hands away from his body.
    “Help me!” he shouts to Mosley’s sons. The boys watch dumbly.
    While Edward’s face is turned, the Deathsman bends one hand down. Silver fingertips brush lightly against