Satin with she. All. All.”
“Tell her—tell her I love her. Tell her I’m all right and Elene is. Love you,
Bluetooth.”
Brown arms hugged him. He embraced the Downer fervently and the Downer left him
and slipped away like a shadow, quickly occupied himself with picking up debris
not far away, wandered off. Damon looked about him, fearful that they might have
been observed, met nothing but Josh’s curious gaze. He glanced away, wiped his
eyes on the arm which rested across his knee. The numbness diminished; he began
to be afraid again, had something to be afraid for, someone who could still be
hurt.
“Your mother,” Josh said. “Is that what he was talking about?”
He nodded, without comment.
“I’m glad,” Josh offered earnestly.
He nodded a second time. Blinked, tried to think, feeling his brain subjected to
jolt after jolt until there was no sense in it
“Damon.”
He looked up, followed the direction of Josh’s stare. Squads of troops were
coming off the horizon, out of green dock, formed up and meaning business.
Quietly, nonchalantly, he rose, dusted his clothing, turned his back to the dock
to give Josh cover while he got up. Very casually they began to move along in
the other direction.
“Sounds like they’re about to get organized out there,” Josh said.
“We’re all right,” he insisted. They were not the only ones moving. The niner
hall of white was not that far. They drifted with others who seemed to have the
same motive, found a public restroom next to one of the bars that sat at the
corner of white nine; Josh turned in there and he walked in after. They both
made use of it and walked out again, taking a normal pace. Guards had been
posted at the intersections of the corridor with the dock, but they were not
doing anything, only watching. He walked further down nine, stopped at a public
call unit.
“Screen me,” he said, and Josh obligingly leaned against the wall between them
and the opening of nine where the guards stood. “Going to see what cards we
have, how many credits, where the original owners belonged. I don’t need my own
priority to do that, just a records number.”
“I know one thing,” Josh said in a low voice. “I don’t look like a Pell citizen.
And your face…”
“No one wants to be noticed; no one can turn us in without being noticed
himself. That’s the best hope we’ve got; no one wants to be conspicuous.” He
thrust in the first card and keyed the override. Altener, Leslie: 789.90 credits
in comp; married, a child. Clerk, clothing concession. He put that one in his
left pocket, not to use, not wanting to steal from the survivors. Lee Anton
Quale, single man, staff card with Lukas Company, restricted clearance, 8967.89
credits… an amazing amount for such a man. William Teal, married man, no
children, loading boss, 4567.67 credits, warehouse clearances.
“Let’s see yours,” he said to Josh. Josh handed his over together, and he shoved
the first in, hastening feverishly, wondering whether so many inquiries in a row
off a public terminal might not set comp central off. Cecil Sazony, single man,
456.78 credits, machinist and sometime loader, barracks privileges; Louis Diban,
five-year marriage terminated, no dependents, 3421.56, dock crew foreman. He
pocketed the cards and started walking as Josh followed and caught up with him,
around the corner into a crosshall, and around the next corner to the right.
There was a storeroom there; all the docks were mirror image one of the other
when it came to the central corridors, and there was inevitably a storage room
for maintenance hereabouts. He found the appropriate, unmarked door, used the
foreman’s card to open it, and turned on the lights. There was ventilation, a
store of paper and cleaning supplies and tools. He stepped in with Josh behind
him and punched the door closed. “A hole to hide in,” he said, and pocketed the
card he had used, reckoning it the best key they had. “We sit it out, go on
alterday shift a day or so. Two of our cards were alterday people, single, with