Page 100 of Throwing Fire

“Submerging in sewage is just as effective for disease-transmission,” he says serenely. “How long were you under?”

I glare at Acker, who must have given me up, and is sporting his own white dot on a patch of bare skin under his chin. Acker stares fixedly at a holodisplay, but his whiskers twitch.

“A few seconds,” I say.

That gets me another derm.

“Kez only has the one,” I object. While I appreciate everything Doc Gray has done for me, I’m really not a fan of his white derms.

“You’re considerably larger than Miz Kerryon.” That gets a snicker from everyone. “Now, if you will?” He holds up his palmtop scanner, which I’ve seen just a few times lately.

I find a chair to sit in while he examines me. He spends a lot of time on the back of my head, where I was injured in the skimmer crash. So much time I’m beginning to worry when he comes back around in front of me and pats my shoulder. “Your recuperative powers are remarkable. Your skull has completely integrated the new matrix. It should be as hard as it ever was.”

“Thick is the word you’re looking for,” Kez quips from where she’s leaning against the cluttered desk, watching the examination.

“I choose my words with care, Miz Kerryon,” Doc Gray rejoins, but his thin mouth stretches into a smile. “How are you feeling?”

Since that still seems directed at me, I shrug. “Okay.”

Pretty good, actually, although if we were home, I’d be thinking about bed soon.

“I’m pleased. Just remember that you’re not inexhaustible, no matter how you might feel. You’re still recovering, and that means plenty of rest and fluids. Sewer water is not an acceptable substitute.” His scaled lips stretch a little wider and he gives my shoulder another pat before packing the palmtop away. “Since you’re recovering better than you deserve, I’ll say goodbye. I should have opened the clinic an hour ago.”

I offer him my hand, which he shakes warmly. “Thanks for everythin’, Doc.”

“Remember that when you receive my bill. Subterranean house calls are triple.”

I smile. I don’t care what he charges. However much it is, he’s worth it. So much so, it might be time to put him on the payroll.

After he takes off, Kez beckons me with two fingers, slides around the desk, and stands over Gig’s shoulder. When I join her, she points at one of the dozen displays in front of Gig. “Gig’s established a secure line into the T-Net, so I thought I’d have Mother Jo ping this B-guy with a fake emergency and see if we could get him back to the plant?—”

“Back to the plant?” I ask.

“It’s ten o’clock at night. Even Myhre has gone home.”

I consult the chrono in my eye. So it is. Time flies when you’re questioning Ojos. “So the plant’s empty except for the nightshift?”

There could be advantages to that.

“Yes, except that Mother Jo can’t get through to B. He’s put privacy mode on, see?” She circles a code on the display with her fingertip. “According to Mother Jo, he puts it on every night after eight. I guess he doesn’t like to be disturbed.”

Or he’s busy with extra-curricular activities. “When’s he usually clock in?”

Kez taps the display and a chart pops up. Ins and outs.

“Morning person,” I observe. He’s usually at the plant for oh-six-hundred. “What kind of window we got in the morning?”

Kez moves to another display. “Hourly from the end of curfew.” Curfew on the Clouds ends at seven-hundred, so B will beat us to the plant in the morning. If we can’t get him back to the empty plant tonight, I’m not sure it matters.

“Payton’s got us an open exit,” Kez says.

“Smart woman.” I shift behind Kez and scan the displays while I whisper into her ear. “How bad you want to get home tonight?”

She gives her head a fractional shake. “Getting out tonight after curfew will cause a huge stink.”

Not as big a stink as our last exit. “True.”

“If you guys are considering laying over here tonight, I have a date,” Gig interjects.

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