He turned into the back corridor and sucked in his breath when he saw the red light flashing on the spectroscope. The samples weren’t in position and the test hadn’t started. Over his shoulder he muttered, “Always something. Look, that damn spectroscope is complaining again.” He pointed to the flashing light as he approached. “What the hell is the matter now?”
“Leave it alone. You’re pressing your luck, McKinley.” Marcus’ voice no longer sounded like a growl; there was a scratchy, buzzing quality to it. Kev didn’t have to look to know that his enemy’s shape was currently in the process of changing.
But he did, and the shock at what he saw was entirely genuine. He didn’t have to fake a gasp or step back uncertainly. The cold sweat that popped out on the back of his neck and his forehead wasn’t something that he could have manufactured.
Marcus was now crouched over, but his eyes, his many eyes, were still the same height off the floor as Kevin’s own. No fur was evident. Fur would have been superfluous on that particular body. A vaguely insectoid shape crouched there, and as Kevin watched, the front pair of legs rubbed together in an oddly complicated fashion.
“Keep moving.” The sound came from legs. It was just as well – Kevin couldn’t see any place for a larynx to reside. He let himself stumble back, hardly feigning fear, and with his left hand, hit the large gray button that would tell the spectroscope to insert the first sample into the chamber to be scanned.
There came a faint click and then a low hum as the machine, now fully warmed up and ready, began to build the necessary magnetic field using the nuclear magnetic resonance spectroscope. The very intense and rapidly shifting magnetic field.
The field built.
And then the scan started.
It was a relatively new machine, built for mass producing results. It held a bank of fifty samples, one after another; the field ran through a spectrum of intensities and phases for each one, varying the magnetic field at an incredible rate.
Marcus’ form shimmered and began to fuzz out; a keening sort of hum came from it and the muscles controlling the legs and wings fluttered in response to the shifting field, far too quickly for magically active, biological fields to be adjusted or controlled. The hum crested in a shriek and one leg lashed out at Kevin, who threw himself backwards, half over the far end of the spectroscope.
It saved his life, but just barely. A razor-sharp leg of chitin in the process of morphing into something else, caught Kev across the chess, just above the sternum, slashing through his shirt and trailing an arc of red. His fall saved him from the subsequent explosion.
Marcus blew up.
An incredible mélange of mammalian and insectal tissue sprayed the corridor and the spectroscope, the force of the blast ripping the slightly open, front access panel. Junk spattered inside and the stink of ozone began to waft its way into the air, almost, but not quite, mixing serenely with the stench of viscera.
Kevin got up, bleeding, and regarded the carnage. He sighed, reached over to turn off the spectroscope and then froze.
The trace coming out was wrong.
It should have shown the clear, unmistakable signs of benzene, but if that trace was benzene, Kevin was a Munchkin.
