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time."
On to checkpoint three, then four, and then the last. Beyond checkpoint five
the corridor expanded to room size. Ahead was Departure Lounge, all around
them the living quarters for the colonists. Beyond the Lounge lay the GATE.
They started forward and were shocked when a voice called out sharply from
behind, "You two.. .just a minute."
Eric stood rooted to the deck, frantically trying to decide whether to make a
run for the GATE or turn and strike out. As he wrestled with two rotten
choices, a lieutenant of WOSA Security stepped in front of him.
"Maxine Zandman," she said, announcing herself. She eyed them curiously. "I
don't think I've seen either of you two here before."
Eric offered her his most ingratiating smile. "We've just been assigned to
GATE repair. Came in on the last shuttle."
"Starting in awfully soon, aren't you?"
"I'm in subquad transposition repair and maintenance. You know how that is.
You don't keep things moving right, you lose the whole effect. A tough piece
of business to swallow anytime, let alone this early in the morning." He
indicated Lisa. "My apprentice."
The lieutenant nodded, aware her subordinates were watching. She had no
intention of mishandling this newcomer.
"Right. Nice to meet someone so enthusiastic about their work."
"Do the best I can," Eric told her, brushing past.
As soon as they were out of earshot, Lisa whispered to him, "What is subquad
transposition?"
"I don't know, but I'll bet that lieutenant didn't know either, and she wasn't
going to confess that in front of her platoon."
"What if she decides to check on it?"
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"If she checks on us, we'll check out. If she checks on our 'work,' it'll take
her an hour of difficult reading to find out that I'm talking bullshit. By
that time we'll be safely away."
They made their way through the busy Lounge. Dozens of colonists milled
around-chatting, reading, watching their last optos. Eric saw couples, singles
working at becoming couples, anxious mothers shepherding excited children.
Those soon to depart displayed the contents of green carry sacks. Bulkier
supplies, he remembered, were sent through after the people.
It was impressive, seeing so many of the famous green uniforms in one place,
knowing that each represented the failed hopes of thousands left unchosen.
Every one in the Lounge, including the children, had passed rigorous,
demanding, tests to reach this point.
But not as rigorous as ours, he thought, grimly.
They had no trouble passing from Lounge to GATE. A steady stream of
technicians shuttled through the last lock. The guards waved the uniforms
through without comment, assuming quite properly that the five checkpoints
down the corridor had already done their work.
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Occasionally they drew an interested glance from a repairman or supervisor,
but that was all. Several hundred specialists shared duty-time at the Terminus
and it was impossible for any one to know every one of his fellow workers on
sight. As for the white-clad scientists and engineers who actually ran the
GATE, they ignored everything but their work.
After a while the repeated stares began to make Eric nervous, until he
realized no one was looking at him. Of course they would attract stares: it
would have been abnormal if they hadn't, since he was accompanied by one of
the most beautiful women alive. Her work uniform couldn't conceal that.
As he edged toward a console whose function looked familiar, he could hear the
colonists talking about their destination. It was early morning, and the GATE
was just recommencing service following nighttime hiatus. As he made a show of
laying out his equipment, Eric wondered that they'd succeeded in breaching
GATE security. Actually, it wasn't so surprising. Security only had to keep
watch for the exceptional antisocial like Griss. There was no threat of
sabotage. Even the most desperate criminals on
Earth wouldn't harm the GATE, because there was always the chance they might
get to use it.
The GATE itself was not particularly impressive: a modest nave located at the
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