科幻之家if we're lucky?" He sighed. 'Wish I was going with you . . .科幻之家

Anderssen didn't resist as he pulled her even closer.

She laid her head under his chin as they rocked gently from side to
side under the raying jets of warm water.

'Do you still miss Lauren?"

'Not as much as I'm going to miss you."

Anderssen slid her arms around his waist. 'Where are you headed?"

'Cedar Rapids, Iowa... ' 'Never heard of it."

'It's about twelve hundred miles north-west of here.

On the same latitude as Chicago."

'Christo! Doesn't it snow up there at this time of year?"

'So they tell me."

'Must be pretty important for them to risk sending you that far
north.

Do you have any backup?"

'Not that I know of."

'So what's the bottom line - or haven't they told you yet?"

'It's a search and rescue mission. At least, that's what CINC-TRAIN
calls it. Five of our people have gone missing up there." He
shrugged. 'Houston want me to find them and. bring 'em in."

'Feds...?"

'If they are, they're not going to tell me."

'Feds' was the nickname applied to special undercover agents thought to
be employed by the First Family. No one had ever come up with any hard
evidence that such people existed but that had not dispelled the
widespread belief that they did.

'The only other kind of people roamin' around out there are breakers.

Apart from FINTEL, of course. But it's the first time I ever heard of
anyone operating east of the Mississippi."

'Yeah. The other odd thing is, two of them are winglnen from The Lady
- Jodi Kazan, the flight section leader did five tours with me before
disappearing over the side in a ball of flame. In that battle I told
you about when we--' 'Ran into some unexpected trouble..."

'Yeah, that one. The second was a new boy called Brickman. One of
three we lost before we turned and ran south to lick our wounds. I've
got nothing on the other three - apart from the fact one's a wingman
but everyone thought Kazan and Brickman were both posted KIA over
Wyoming last June." Hartmann shrugged. 'It seems we were mistaken."

Anderssen leaned away from her shower-mate. 'This guy Brickman ...

would he happen to be 2102-8902

Steven Roosevelt Brickman?"

'Yeah, that's him. How d'you know his name and number?"

'Because he's the kind of guy you remember - for all
kinds of
reasons."

'But why in particular - and how come?"

'He flew into Pueblo on a wing and a prayer almost a year ago today.

Said he'd escaped after being shot down then captured and held prisoner
by a clan of Mutes--' Hartmann looked surprised. 'Held prisoner?"

'That's what he said. We radioed The Lady to check that you had a
crewman by that name. Your Signals Officer obviously didn't tell you
about our query.

Anyway, he confirmed that Brickman was one of three wingmen listed
PD/ET north-east of Cheyenne on June 12th - as the defaulter
claimed."

'Defaulter?"

'It's SOP. Anyone who comes wandering in from the overground adrift
from his unit and without an ID is automatically regarded as a
potential code-breaker until proved otherwise. You know that."

'Sure,' grunted Hartmann. 'But up to now, the only breakers I've seen
have been dead ones. So what was his story?"

'I never got to hear it." Anderssen dropped her voice right down.

'When we called up Brickman's dope-sheet from Grand Central, it came
prefixed with a Level Nine entry."

'Which only you could read."

'Lucky I did. Otherwise I might have got my buns roasted. Your Mr
Brickman is on the Special Treatment List."

The news caused Hartmann's eyebrows to rise. 'Is he?

Well, well, well... Thanks for telling me - although, to be honest, I
can't say it comes as a total surprise. I always have a one-to-one
word with new crewmen when they come aboard then compare notes with
McDonnell my Trail Boss. We both had him down as someone who might go
far."

'I know what you mean,' said Anderssen. 'He has that · . . look about
him."

Hartmann drew her to him. 'Yeah. It's the eyes." He looked deep into
hers.

'So, be careful, huh?"

'You too." He planted a brotherly kiss on the tip of her nose. 'Okay,
fun's over. Git outta here."

'Sure... ' Anderssen pushed the curtain aside. 'Just out of interest
do you always wear socks in the shower?"

Hartmann looked down at his olive-drab feet. 'Awww, shee-utt!" Y'see
what happens when you're around?" he peeled off the socks and started
to wring them out.

'It might help if you turned the water off." Marie Anderssen stepped
out of the cubicle and picked up a couple of towels. She threw one at
Hartmann then started to give herself a vigorous rub-down. 'So what's
the word on the rest of my party? Are they being flown to Santa Fe
too? Or do they have to walk it?"

'Neither,' replied Hartmann. 'They're staying aboard."

Mary-Ann stopped drying her hair with one end of the towel as the other
end stalled between her thighs. 'But these guys are--' 'Due three
months leave, yeah. It's been postponed.

Tough, but that's the way it is. They'll get home when we do."

'That is outrageous..." Anderssen cast around for a solution. 'Can't
you drop them off at Monroe/Wichita on your way through? I know the
interface isn't operational yet but they could ride down the air shaft
that was drilled through the floor of the old way-station."

'We're not going through Wichita. We've been routed through Great Bend
and Salina. The terrain is easier to navigate - which means we can
maintain speed during our night-time run."

Anderssen swore violently then vented her frustration on her own body
with an extra-punishing rubdown.

'There must be something we can do!"

'Uh-uh, not so much of the "we". This is your beef, lion."

Her voice turned sour. 'Thanks, I'll remember that."

'Listen, Marie, I've got my orders. If you don't like
what's
happening, take it up with CINC-TRAIN - when you get to Santa Fe."

'Yeah, sure. It means going through channels. Any complaint I make
has got to go all the way up to Pioneer Corps HQ before being sent over
to CINC-TRAIN. By which time--' '- assuming it ever gets that fan-'
'you'll be out of sight across the Missouri."

'Exactly. You know the score -just like CINC-TRAIN knew your guys were
hitching a ride home on The Lady.

There was no order to off-load them because no one at Grand Central
gives a shit whether they get home for New Year or not. All GC cares
about is getting this wagon-train to Cedar Rapids. Pronto. So don't
take it out on me."

Anderssen turned away from him, sawed the towel rapidly across her
buttocks and down the back of her legs.

Hartmann didn't need to see her face to know that she would have
preferred to throttle him with it. Hanging his own towel round his
neck, he fished a clean pair of socks and a set of underwear from one
of the drawers in his clothes cupboard. He wasn't completely dry but
he now only had four minutes in which to get dressed before he was due
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