Vigilantes Read Online Free Page A

believed he (or other visitors) would smuggle something in with their suits. Even though he would never share the same area as the prisoner, never be able to touch him, never be able to slip him anything. Rules sometimes made no sense.
    The area between the two sections was called the Tunnels for obvious reasons. Accompanied by two mouthless android guards, Nyquist had gone through what looked like Disty warrens between the two sections. Eventually, he ended up in a clear, round room that looked like it floated.
    It was a one-person protective bubble that provided its own environment. The guards used these things to peer into the sections that lacked an environment they could function in. But Nyquist couldn’t control his own little bubble. He had no idea where the control panel was, and he didn’t have the access codes.
    He had to wait wherever the guards wanted him to. And he couldn’t talk to the android guards, because they were designed to protect and defend, not communicate.
    All of his links were down, including his emergency links, which irritated him. He could contact the prison through a link it had set up, and no one else. He truly felt trapped in a sterile environment.
    At least there was a table and a chair. He could rest his head on the table and snooze if he wanted to. He wasn’t getting much sleep, between worrying, talking to DeRicci, and trying to figure out what was happening to his beloved city.
    But he wasn’t going to sleep. It would show weakness. Although he might rest his head if they left him in here as long as they had the day before.
    At least the wait had given Nyquist a chance to study everything around him, including the blue water-like substance outside the protective bubble. He prepared himself for the interview, reviewing the questions over and over again in his head.
    He had a long list, and he doubted he would get to all of it. He hadn’t had enough time with Uzvaan, the Peyti clone, the day before. Nyquist doubted he would have enough time today, either.
    Uzvaan had been the lawyer for Nyquist’s old partner, Ursula Palmette. Her experiences during the first explosion in Armstrong had turned her somehow, and she had been trying to bomb Armstrong herself on Anniversary Day. Nyquist still wasn’t certain of the connection, and Palmette wouldn’t talk.
    But he had used Palmette as an excuse to bring Uzvaan into the station on the day of the Peyti Crisis, to hold him in place and prevent him from bombing the city.
    It had worked.
    And now, Nyquist was using the same excuse to convince prison officials to let him see Uzvaan. The officials believed that Nyquist was here on the Palmette case. So far, no one from S 3 had figured out what Nyquist was doing, but he had a hunch they’d figure it out soon enough.
    Hence all the questions he had to ask today, which he had mentally ordered from most important to least important. Even so, he doubted he would ask them in that order, because interviews were organic things. But he would do his best.
    Only a few minutes after Nyquist arrived, another bubble made its way through the blueness. Inside sat Uzvaan, limbs at his sides, legs pulled back, his maskless face still looking unbelievably alien to Nyquist.
    He was so used to seeing the Peyti with their masks that Uzvaan looked like an entirely different creature without it.
    The bubble stopped not too far from Nyquist’s. Uzvaan’s eyes still dominated his face, even without the mask. So Nyquist decided to focus on them.
    Nyquist made sure he had started recording.
    “Detective,” Uzvaan said, in that sarcastic tone of his.
    Nyquist had figured out the day before that Uzvaan used the sarcasm to mask his desperation. If Uzvaan didn’t get Nyquist’s help, he would probably die horribly. If Uzvaan cooperated, he might be able to live—although Nyquist had no idea why someone like Uzvaan would want to live.
    “I have a list of questions for you,” Nyquist said, his voice cold. He was