But
Ali did not seem concerned.
Kamil was standing with their captive, an odd expression on his handsome
face as if he were striving to recall some dim memory. When he spoke it
was to the Com-tech. "You have an HD OS here?"
The other registered surprise. "I think so--"
Ali made an abrupt gesture. "Make sure," he ordered, following the man
into another room. Dane looked to Rip for enlightenment.
"What in the Great Nebula is an HD OS?"
"I'm no engineer. It may be some gadget to get us out of here--"
"Such as a pair of wings?" Dane was inclined to be sarcastic. The memory
of that incandescent circle on the door some twenty floors below stayed
with him. Tempers of Police and Patrol were not going to be improved by
fighting their way around or over the obstacles the Traders had arranged
to delay them. If they caught up to the outlaws before the latter had
their chance for an impartial hearing, the result was not going to be a
happy one as far as the Queen's men were concerned.
Ali appeared in the doorway. "Bring Hovan in here." Together Rip and Dane
carried the Medic into a smaller chamber where they found Ali and the
tech busy lashing a small, lightweight tube chair to a machine which, to
their untutored eyes, had the semblance of a collection of bars.
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