The Green Brain Read Online Free PDF

face?”
    â€œWhat does a scar prove?”
    â€œWe have seen … what we have seen.”
    â€œBut an insect cannot grow that large!” Rhin protested. She turned her attention to the dark creature dancing along the fountain’s rim behind the curtain of water.
    â€œSo I’ve been told,” Martinho said. He wondered then about the reports from the Serra Dos Parecis.
Mantidae three meters tall—ten feet. He knew the argument against such a thing. Rhin—all the entomologists were correct. Insects couldn’t produce living structure that large. Was it possible the things were automata? Who’d build such things? Why?
    â€œIt has to be a mechanical simulation of some kind,” Rhin said.
    â€œThe acid’s real, though,” Chen-Lhu said. “Look at the yellow spots on the lawn.”
    Martinho reminded himself then that his own basic training forced him to agree with Rhin and Chen-Lhu. He’d even denied to Vierho that giant mantidae could exist. He knew how rumors pyramided. There were so few people other than bandeirantes in the Red areas these days. The Resettlement Plan had been most efficient. And there was no denying that many bandeirantes were semi-ignorant, superstitious men attracted only by the romance and money.
    Martinho shook his head. He’d been there on the Goyaz track the day Vierho had suffered the acid burn. He’d seen … what he had seen. And now, this creature at the fountain.
    The high-pitched roaring hiss of truck motors intruded on his awareness. The sound grew louder. The crowd parted giving a wide berth to the ground blast as Ramon backed the Irmandades truck into position beside the Hermosillo vehicle. The rear doors opened and Vierho jumped down as the motors were silenced.
    â€œJefe,” he called. “Why do we not use the truck? Ramon could put it almost up to the …”
    Martinho waved him to silence, spoke to Chen-Lhu: “The truck does not have enough maneuverability. You saw how fast that thing is.”
    â€œYou haven’t said what you think it is,” Chen-Lhu said.

    â€œI’ll say when I see it in a specimen bottle,” Martinho said.
    Vierho came up beside him, said, “But the truck would give us …”
    â€œNo! Dr. Chen-Lhu desires an undamaged specimen. Get us some foam bombs. We go in with our hands.”
    Vierho sighed, shrugged, returned to the rear of the truck, spoke briefly to someone inside. A bandeirante in the truck began passing out equipment.
    Martinho turned to the policeman helping hold back the crowd, said, “Can you get a message to the vehicles across the way?”
    â€œOf course, honorable sir.”
    â€œI want their lights turned off. I don’t want to risk being blinded by lights in front of me. You understand?”
    â€œThey will be told at once.” He turned, relayed the message to an officer down the line.
    Martinho strode to the rear of his truck, took a sprayrifle, examined the charge cylinder, extracted it, took another from a door rack. He locked in the charge, and again checked the rifle.
    â€œKeep the specimen bottle here until we’ve immobilized that … thing,” he said. “I’ll call for it.”
    Vierho rolled out the shield, a two-centimeter thickness of acid-resistant, tempered magna-glass, mounted on a two-wheeled handtruck. A narrow slot at the right accepted the rifle.
    A bandeirante in the truck handed out two protective suits—silver-gray fiberglass sandwiches encased in slick acid-resistant synthetic fabric.
    Martinho slipped into one, examined the seals.
    Vierho donned the other.
    â€œI could use Thome on the shield,” Martinho said.
    â€œThome has not as much experience, Jefe.”

    Martinho nodded, began examining the foamal bombs and auxiliary equipment. He hung extra charge cylinders in a rack on the shield.
    It was all done quickly and silently, with the ease of long experience. The