"You should get into the fourth chamber for some R and R," Hoffman suggested. "You don't look too well."

"I feel pretty lousy, too. But this is all I have left. I'll make it as long as there're voices down there. You're not going shut us down, are you?"

"No, of course not," Hoffman said. "Don't be silly."

"My privilege to be paranoid," Pickney said, thrusting her lower jaw forward and pulling it back, with an audible grind of molars. "When Heineman gets back, I'll go to work with him refurbishing the shuttle. I'd like to get to the Moon. I have friends there."

"No word on the expedition," Hoffman said. "They're late, but that's not much reason to worry. . . yet. I may get some of Heineman's fellows working on the shuttle soon. Give us all something new to think about."

"What about the missing Russians?" Link asked from her sling, blinking at them sleepily.

"Still unavailable for comment," Hoffman said. She took Pickney's hand and squeezed it. "You're needed," she said. "Both of you. Don't overdo it."

Pickney nodded without much conviction. "All right. Have Janice Polk and Beryl Wallace spell us in a day or so. We'll go get some tubelight and see the sights."

"Fine," Hoffman said. "Now show me where the signals are coming from. . . .”

Chapter Fifty-Two

Chapter Fifty-Two

The rogue reappeared before Patricia as she slept and awoke her by tickling her ear. "Miss Patricia Luisa Vasquez, late of Earth—the late Earth," he said. "I'm here with some answers."

She rolled over and rubbed her eyes. The rogue's appearance had changed; he now seemed to wear baggy pants and a cardigan sweater. His hair was styled in a loose shag, and a watchless fob hung from a belt loop, terminating in a hemline pocket in the sweater. The rogue was in the height of 2005 fashion. She leaned over the bed and examined his shoes. Huaraches and Japanese tabi socks completed his wardrobe.

"They're on to me," he said. "I had to slip in a different way. I'm using the auxiliary pictor; the primary is locked. And I've reprogrammed the apartment privacy unit to edit us both out of any record while we talk. I've found there is a way to get into the city record. Very disappointing; to the Nexus, apparently nothing is sacred."

Patricia blinked and then got out of bed, reaching for her robe. "Do you do this all the time?"

"No," the rogue replied. "Takes a lot of effort to get this far. I'd much rather be playing games in City Memory, but my employers are handing out incredible advantages for the information. Luckily, I sent mine in just before the general release—now everybody knows you're here."

"We've been told that already."