Prophet and the Blood March (Prophet of ConFree) Read Online Free Page A

replied. "I'll be good."
    "We will also be investigating what we are calling DX neural frequencies. Your brain scans have revealed countless neural frequencies associated with your DX structures. We're working on how to read, view or intercept these frequencies. You will all be helping in this effort.
    "So – we'll have plenty of help with this project. Please be patient with them all. Doctor Dimension – known to you all – will be working closely with you. Miss Paula Deep will be tutoring you all in telepathy. You know her, too. Prophet named her 'psycherchick Paula'. For your information, Paula Deep is probably the Legion's most talented psycher. She is also a deeply troubled young lady. I'd like everyone to treat her with respect, and understanding. Perhaps we can help her out as she helps us out. Remember the golden rule: Do unto others as you would have them do unto you. Let that be Delta Research's motto."
    Only the Professor could have said something like that without people looking at him like he was crazy. After all, we were with the ConFree Legion and our core mission was to kill people and break things. But I knew he meant every word. The Prof had led us into several bloody adventures in which a lot of people had been killed, but each mission was an act of sublime courage and the highest morality. He had given us another motto to live by earlier, when we were walking into battle and staring death in the face: Do the right thing.
    Δ
    The shipment arrived a bit late to Veils. Veils never closed, of course – it was a top of the line nightclub-bar-restaurant-holo palace, the hottest, most exciting entertainment complex in Temples, the capital city of Galgos 3 in the Gassies Coalition. But the warehouse in the rear closed down at 1800 hours and it was almost 1800 when the big OneWorld aircarrier pulled up by the still-open cargo doors.
    "Come on, Errols, we're just about to shut down," the warehouse tech objected. He was a tall young Outworlder with tangled shoulder-length hair, clad in a dark blue uniform.
    "Quitcher bitchin', Wally," Errols said as he climbed down the steep footholds from the carrier's tall cab. "You get paid for receiving this stuff and I get paid for delivering it. Let's do it." Errols was a slender Assidic with a shaved head and a wispy black mustache, wearing OneWorld black and silver colors.
    "I didn’t realize you were such an enthusiast," Wally said. "Tonton! Front & center!" Tonton, a hulking Cyrillian in warehouse blue, appeared from out of the shadows of the warehouse interior.
    They unloaded two great dropboxes from the aircarrier's cargo bay and floated them into the warehouse on air effects pads.
    "Where ya want 'em?" Tonton asked.
    "Yeah, just a mo, what is this stuff?" Wally asked.
    "Don't know," Errols replied. "Just sign here." He held out a palm screen with a receipt form showing.
    "Well, what are these things?" Wally repeated. They were major drop-boxes, dinged and dirty armorite but probably invulnerable to major damage, long and rectangular, maybe two mikes long, longer than a tall man, and damned heavy according to the scales.
    "It's something you ordered," Errols said. "From Lightspeed Freight Forwarding in Marcos City. There's the shipping code. Check it yourself if you really want to know."
    Wally scanned the active order records on his own inventory palm screen.
    "I don’t have a record of that order," he said. "Something's wrong."
    "Wally," Errols said calmly, "I'd like to go home now and I know you would, too. Please either sign for the receipt of these packs, or load them back in my carrier so I can return them to my own warehouse. If you hadn't ordered them, nobody would have sent them to you, dontcha think? Now are you going to sign or not?"
    TonTon stared at Wally glumly. He wanted to go home too.
    "All right," Wally said, affixing his thumbprint to the palm screen. "I guess we can sort this out in the morning. Just put them over there, Tonton."
    "You got it,"