Necrosynth--enough to keep him unconscious for twenty-four hours. He
started to curse her, but the drug acted before he could complete the
thought.
IX
Judgment
Doc woke to see sunlight shining through a heavily barred window that
must be in the official Southport jail. He waited a few minutes for his
head to clear and then sat up; necrosynth left no hangover, at least.
The sound of steps outside was followed by the squeak of a key in the
lock. "Fifteen minutes, Judge Wilson," a voice said.
"Thank you, officer." Wilson came into the cell, carrying a tray of
breakfast and a copy of the Northport _Gazette_. He began unloading
bracky weeds from his pocket while Doc attacked the breakfast.
"They tossed the book at you, Doc," he said. "You haven't got a chance,
and there's nothing the villages can do. Trial's set for tomorrow at
Northport, and it's in closed session. We can't get you off this time."
Doc nodded. "Thanks for coming, even if there's nothing you can do. I've
been living on borrowed time for a year, anyhow, so I have no right to
kick. But who's 'we'?"
"The villages. I've been part of their organization for years." The old
man sighed heavily. "You might say a revolution has been going on since
I can remember, though most villagers don't know it. We've just been
waiting our time. Now we've stopped waiting and the rifles will be
coming out--rifles made in village shops.
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