"Are you crazy?" I crackled. "This is your father. Do you want to kill
him? It takes a doctor to revive him. You're an educated woman, Rena,
not a witch-ridden peasant! You know better than this!"
She laughed--a cold laugh. "Educated! A peasant woman would have kicked
you to death and succeeded. I'm educated, all right! Two hundred men, a
plane, twenty women risking themselves up there to get me through the
door. All our plans--and I can't remember a way to kill you in time.
I'm too educated to hate you, Claims Adjuster Wills!" She choked on the
words. Then she shook her head dully. "Go ahead, turn me in and get it
over with."
I took a deep breath. Turn her in? I hadn't thought that far ahead.
True, that was the obvious thing to do; she had confessed that the
whole riot outside was a diversion to get her down in the vaults, and
anyone who could summon up that sort of organized anti-Company violence
was someone who automatically became my natural enemy.
But perhaps I was too educated and too soft as well. There had been
tears on her face, over her father's body. I could not remember having
heard that conspirators cried.
And I sympathized a little. I had known what it was like to weep
over the body of someone I loved. Despite our difficulties, despite
everything, I would have done anything in the world to bring Marianna
back to life. I couldn't. Rena--she believed--could revive her father.