"Who're you?" said Steiger.
"What happened here?"
"Answer my damn question!"
"I… I'm Dr. Philip Torvalt, pathology resident."
"You know that man?" Steiger asked the young doctor, indicating the dead assailant in the lab coat. "He one of your people?"
Torvalt glanced again at the slain M.P. 's, then approached the assassin's corpse, glanced down at him, swallowed hard and shook his head. "No. No, I've never seen this man before." He looked back up at Steiger. "What the hell happened here? I was… Colonel, you're wounded!"
"It's only a scratch." Steiger glanced down at the two dead M.P.'s, his lips compressed onto a thin line. "They got the worst of it."
"You're bleeding profusely," Torvalt said, frowning. "You'd better let me see that.
It could be serious. I've never seen a laser wound that didn't cauterise."
"It wasn't a laser," Steiger said. "Bring me — that man's weapon."
Dr. Torvalt started to reach for the pistol, then hesitated.
"Should I be touching this?"
"Why not?"
"Well I don't know, I mean.. it's evidence, isn't it?"
"Were you planning on arresting him? Come on, snap out of it, Doctor. You act as if you've never seen a dead body before. What the hell kind of a pathologist are you?"
"There's no need to be sarcastic, Colonel," Torvalt said, stiffly. He wrenched the pistol loose from the dead man's grip. "After all, it isn't every day I walk. into the middle of a war."
"War?" Steiger snorted. "Hell, this wasn't a war, Doctor.
This wasn't even a small skirmish. This was merely murder."
"Merely?" said the doctor.
Steiger winced. "Sorry. I tend to get a little testy when people try to kill me."
"Here." Torvalt handed Steiger the gun, handling it gingerly.
"Well, I'll be damned," said Steiger, examining it.
"What kind of weapon is that?" Torvalt said, fascinated in spite of himself. "I've never seen anything like it."
"That's because it's a bit before your time, Doctor. It's a true collector's item. A Semiautomatic lead projectile pistol fitted with a custom silencer. A 10-mm Colt Delta Elite, circa the late 20th century…
"The 20th century?" said Torvalt, with astonishment. Alarmed faces were looking in through the windows in the doors. Several hospital staff people started to come in.
"Stay out!" snapped Steiger. They quickly backed out once again. "Doctor, I want this place secured. I'll have I.S.D. co-ordinate with you. Get those men up off the floor and then I want a full workup on that one," he pointed at the assailant's corpse. "Retinal patterns, finger and palm prints, dental analysis, genetic mapping, the works. I want to know who he was before the night is out."
"Colonel, that's impossible! There's no way I can do all that in-"
"Then get someone who can. This is top priority. I'm holding you personally responsible."
There was a knock at the door.
"What is it? Steiger shouted, angrily.
"I.S.D., Colonel."
"That you, Danelli?"
"Yes, sir."
"Come on in. "
Three commandos in black base fatigues entered, their sidearms held ready. Steiger recognised them and lowered his pistol.
"You all right, sir?" Sgt. Danelli said, holstering his pistol. "Yeah. You got here quick."
"Responding to a report of a dead body, sir. One of the hospital cleaning staff found one of the doctors murdered." He bent down and pulled the nametag off the dead man's Jab coat. "Now we know why. What are your orders, sir?"
"First of all, get some more people down here and secure the area." Steiger winced, holding his arm up as Torvalt staunched the flow of blood and examined the wound. "Nobody comes in, nobody leaves. Nobody goes off duty. I want all hospital personnel questioned. Everybody. We probably won't learn anything, but do it anyway. Delegate someone to take charge of that. I want you personally to get on the horn right now and call the old man. Alert his security detail, tell him we've got' two men down, both dead, and I've got a superficial flesh wound. Pure dumb luck. The hitter was a pro. It was the Network, no doubt about it. Find out how many people knew about my brother's body being brought in. Then get on to the S
amp; R team that actually brought him in. I want to know how that hitter knew to be here. Then have someone call Archives Section and tell them to stand by for a download. Dr. Torvalt here is going to feed them everything they need for an ID. check on the hitter. I want to know who the son of a bitch was. You got all that?"
"Yes, sir?"..
"Right. Go to it." Steiger winced again as Torvalt probed the wound. "Christ! You having fun, Doctor?"
"Sony, colonel," Torvalt said. "It's just that I've never seen a wound like this before. I wanted to make certain that there were no lead projectile fragments remaining in the wound. There could be a danger of lead poisoning-"
Steiger laughed. "Hell, Doe, if that had been a fragmentation round, I wouldn't be sitting here. The bullet went clean through. Just spray on some disinfectant, slap a graft patch on and let me out of here. I've got work to do."
Forrester glanced at the nervous-looking man who'd just entered the room. "With the security situation the way it is, I wanted Dr. Gulliver close by, where I could personally keep an eye on him."
"Forgive me, gentlemen," Gulliver said, hesitantly. "I did not mean to intrude, but I
…" he stared at Andre. "Good Lord!. You're a woman!"
"I was last time I checked," said Andre.
Gulliver turned to Forrester with a befuddled look.
"But… a female military officer?"
And as he turned, he noticed the far wall of Forrester's penthouse quarters. The entire wall was a window looking out over the lights and illuminated towers of
Pendleton Base sprawled out below, a panoramic view that even included the sulphurous glow of Los Angeles off in the distance, to the north, Gulliver gasped.
"Merciful heavens! Where in God's name am I?" He approached the window slowly. "I could have sworn there was a wall here when I came in!"
Forrester picked up his remote ambience control from the coffee table and opaqued the window, switching to the holographic slide. Gulliver caught his breath as he suddenly found himself staring at what appeared to be a solid wall, painted a deep maroon, with paintings hanging on it. The effect was completely three dimensional.
"It's done with this, Dr. Gulliver," said Forrester, showing him the remote control unit. "It isn't a real wall, you see. It's only a projection… uh, an illusion. A sort of trick. See, I can change the colour of the wall in an instant if I choose to. "
He clicked another button, on the unit and the wall became dark green.
"However, in actuality, the entire wall is really a large window," Forrester said, cancelling the projection.
Gulliver stared out at the view, mesmerised. "I am not insane," he mumbled. "I am not insane. I am not."
"No, Dr. Gulliver, you're not," said Forrester, coming up to the man and putting his hand on his shoulder. "You have simply found yourself in a situation that taxes all your beliefs. However, I remind you of the things that you have already experienced and seen and known without a shadow of a doubt to be absolutely real. And as difficult to believe as this may seem, this too is real. You have been transported almost a thousand years into the future, to the 27th century, where the advances in our technology make your society seem as primitive as
Norman England would seem to Londoners in the year 1702."
Gulliver slowly approached the window, then recoiled with a small cry.
“Don't worry', it's quite safe," said Forrester
Gulliver shook his head. "At first I thought that we were in a house atop some mountain, but… dear Lord, this building must be his voice trailed off in incomprehension.