The Sum of Her Parts Read Online Free PDF
Author: Alan Dean Foster
achieve our designated objectives.” Ingrid’s jaw dropped as she stared at him. Flush with unexpected confidence, he paid no attention to her. “We’ve come too far to give up on our research objectives now.”
“Um, yes,” she added quickly, “we’ve come too far to turn back.”
“It’s never too far to turn back,” Barnato told her solemnly. “Return to where you came from, red missy. I have lived here for so long and yet I can barely call this place my home. It’ll never be yours.”
Not wishing to argue, Whispr sought to change the subject. “I was wondering, Meld brother, why if you decided to dwell in a place like this you didn’t just go full inside-out and opt for a Martian meld? Without the respiratory rework, of course.”
Barnato cackled softly. “Couldn’t afford it, for one thing. And I’ve never been one to do anything half-assed, which is what you’re describing.” His shoulders flexed and the pick and shovel bone-works rose until they dented the fabric ceiling. “All I wanted was to be able to dig. To prospect in the old way. Don’t need any electricity to run my gear, don’t need to worry about motors failing or circuits frying. Just have to get enough protein and carbs.” He peered amusedly at Ingrid. “Grubs are chockful of protein and carbs.”
If he was looking to gross her out he was picking on the wrong woman. But then, she reflected, he didn’t believe that she was a doctor. The only thing that could gross out a practicing physician of her experience and skills was insufficient repayment from the government for services rendered.
“Why don’t you spend the night?” he suggested. “I guarantee you’ll be warmer and more comfortable than up top, and you can catch me up on this and that bit of
real
news. I’m not a hermit, you know. I just prefer living by myself.”
“Isn’t that pretty much the same thing?” she pointed out.
“Nope. Reflections of my feelings toward today’s sociocultural trends.”
She looked toward Whispr, who shrugged. If this Barnato meant them ill he had already had ample opportunity to demonstrate it. Unless, she thought, his intention was to get them to sleep so he could notify Nerens security and turn them in. There was probably a company reward structure in place for ratting out intruders. She shunted the thought aside. As much time as she was spending in Whispr’s company it was only natural that she should pick up some of his paranoia. Barnato’s dislike of the Company seemed as genuine as his disinterest in worldly goods.
As the sun disappeared somewhere over the South Atlantic their host brought forth a convective containment cooker. At last, she thought: a modern accoutrement. But not one that required potentially revealing electricity. Powered by solar energy acquired during the day, it would turn all of it into heat without releasing any as radiant waste for a wandering nocturnal searcher drone to detect. Using only local ingredients including spices obtained from native plants, Barnato put together the first nonconcentrate meal the two Namericans had enjoyed since leaving Orangemund. Hewing to a pact of mutual silence, neither Ingrid nor Whispr asked what was in the bowls Barnato handed them.
When they had finished, Ingrid complimented him as she handed back her dish. “Not bad. In fact, very tasty. Thank you.”
“I’ve had worse,” the ever diplomatic Whispr conceded. “What do you use to clean your utensils? Surely not water?”
“Actually, there’s a small spring not far from here. When I want to, I can even do washing. And not just my clothes and gear. It’s big enough so that I can bathe.”
“I was wondering about that,” Ingrid commented with a smile.
Barnato laughed appreciatively. She had already noted that his pickhand meld had been fashioned so that the flat side lay against his back when his work arms were folded back over his shoulders. Otherwise a hearty belly laugh could have resulted in a
“Um, yes,” she added quickly, “we’ve come too far to turn back.”
“It’s never too far to turn back,” Barnato told her solemnly. “Return to where you came from, red missy. I have lived here for so long and yet I can barely call this place my home. It’ll never be yours.”
Not wishing to argue, Whispr sought to change the subject. “I was wondering, Meld brother, why if you decided to dwell in a place like this you didn’t just go full inside-out and opt for a Martian meld? Without the respiratory rework, of course.”
Barnato cackled softly. “Couldn’t afford it, for one thing. And I’ve never been one to do anything half-assed, which is what you’re describing.” His shoulders flexed and the pick and shovel bone-works rose until they dented the fabric ceiling. “All I wanted was to be able to dig. To prospect in the old way. Don’t need any electricity to run my gear, don’t need to worry about motors failing or circuits frying. Just have to get enough protein and carbs.” He peered amusedly at Ingrid. “Grubs are chockful of protein and carbs.”
If he was looking to gross her out he was picking on the wrong woman. But then, she reflected, he didn’t believe that she was a doctor. The only thing that could gross out a practicing physician of her experience and skills was insufficient repayment from the government for services rendered.
“Why don’t you spend the night?” he suggested. “I guarantee you’ll be warmer and more comfortable than up top, and you can catch me up on this and that bit of
real
news. I’m not a hermit, you know. I just prefer living by myself.”
“Isn’t that pretty much the same thing?” she pointed out.
“Nope. Reflections of my feelings toward today’s sociocultural trends.”
She looked toward Whispr, who shrugged. If this Barnato meant them ill he had already had ample opportunity to demonstrate it. Unless, she thought, his intention was to get them to sleep so he could notify Nerens security and turn them in. There was probably a company reward structure in place for ratting out intruders. She shunted the thought aside. As much time as she was spending in Whispr’s company it was only natural that she should pick up some of his paranoia. Barnato’s dislike of the Company seemed as genuine as his disinterest in worldly goods.
As the sun disappeared somewhere over the South Atlantic their host brought forth a convective containment cooker. At last, she thought: a modern accoutrement. But not one that required potentially revealing electricity. Powered by solar energy acquired during the day, it would turn all of it into heat without releasing any as radiant waste for a wandering nocturnal searcher drone to detect. Using only local ingredients including spices obtained from native plants, Barnato put together the first nonconcentrate meal the two Namericans had enjoyed since leaving Orangemund. Hewing to a pact of mutual silence, neither Ingrid nor Whispr asked what was in the bowls Barnato handed them.
When they had finished, Ingrid complimented him as she handed back her dish. “Not bad. In fact, very tasty. Thank you.”
“I’ve had worse,” the ever diplomatic Whispr conceded. “What do you use to clean your utensils? Surely not water?”
“Actually, there’s a small spring not far from here. When I want to, I can even do washing. And not just my clothes and gear. It’s big enough so that I can bathe.”
“I was wondering about that,” Ingrid commented with a smile.
Barnato laughed appreciatively. She had already noted that his pickhand meld had been fashioned so that the flat side lay against his back when his work arms were folded back over his shoulders. Otherwise a hearty belly laugh could have resulted in a