They hung on to each other as a group of sixty ascended. Cunningham kept her eyes closed. Most of the Russians were resigned to the worst, she told Hoffman; their gloomy pessimism kept them pretty much to themselves.

"Somebody told me a few of our people have defected," Hoffman said, keeping her eyes resolutely on the back of the person in front of her. The elevator walls were too uniform to show motion, and there was no sensation, unpleasant or otherwise, but she still wasn't enjoying the trip.

"Four—two Russians and two Americans; that's what I've heard," Ann said.

"Anybody know who?"

"Rimskaya," Cunningham said. "And Beryl Wallace."

"Beryl. . .” She raised her eyebrows and shook her head.

"I wouldn't expect that from her. . . or Rimskaya." Did she feel they had betrayed her? That was ridiculous. "What about the Russians?"

"One of them is Mirsky," Ann said. "I didn't recognize the second name."

Mirsky didn't surprise her at all. She could read strangers clearly but not the people in her own command. So much for the instincts of a master administrator.

Their quarters were spread through the precincts. More homorphs met them as the groups were further divided and escorted to apartments on different levels.

"You'll be sharing quarters in parties of three," their escort told them. "Space is at a premium now."

"Roomies?" Cunningham asked Hoffman and Blakely.

"Roomies," Hoffman said. Blakely nodded.

Their group of twelve dwindled rapidly as attendants shunted them into vacant quarters. They were the last three, escorted by a single female homorph, who picted a Russian flag over her shoulder. Their apartment was at the very end of a long, gently curved cylindrical hallway. Green numbers beneath the door glowed brightly as they approached.

The rooms were small and very blank. The homorph remained to give them basic instructions on use of the data services. She then wished them well and departed.

"Such a hurry," Blakely said, shaking her head.

"Since we're out of the action," Hoffman said, "or along for the ride, whatever, we might as well settle in."

Within minutes, they were eagerly discussing the possibilities of decor with an assigned ghost from the library. They had several hours before the Breakout, as it was being called; Hoffman used that time to contact others in the precinct who had been assigned quarters.

Blakely and Cunningham decided on an interim decor which gave some color and shape—and considerably more apparent living space—to the apartment. Hoffman joined them to examine the facilities, and to sample the food provided by an automatic kitchen tucked in one corner.

Citizens and Earth people alike, the assigned ghost informed them, would be able to witness the breakout, almost in its entirety. Monitors placed throughout the Thistledown would transmit detailed views of the events and their results; everyone had a ringside seat, if they desired one.