"Ah . . . right." His grin thinned out altogether. He clipped a couple of tiny wires and rerouted them. With one last doubtful look at the lock door, he tapped a pressure plate within the mechanism.

The inner door slid open and Claire tumbled out, gasping rawly, ". . . let me go, let me go, oh, why didn't you let me go—I can't stand this . . ." She curled up in a huddled ball in midair, face hidden.

Silver darted to her, wrapped her arms around her. "Oh, Claire! Don't do things like that. Think—think how Tony would feel, stuck in that hospital downside, when they told him . . ."

"What does it matter?" demanded Claire, muffled against Silver's blue T-shirt. "They'll never let me see him again. I might as well be dead. They'll never let me see Andy . . ."

"Yes," Leo chimed in, "think of Andy. Who will protect him, if you're not around? Not just today, but next week, next year."

Claire unwound, and fairly screamed at him. "They won't even let me see him! They threw me out of the crèche . . ."

Leo seized her upper hands. "Who? Who threw you out?"

"Mr. Van Atta . . ."

"Right, I might have known. Claire, listen to me. The proper response to Bruce isn't suicide; it's murder."

"Really?" said Silver, her interest sparking. Even Claire was drawn out of her tight wad of misery enough to meet Leo's eyes directly for the first time.

"Well . . . perhaps not literally. But you can't let the bastard grind you down. Look, we're all smart here, right? You kids are smart—I've been known to knock down a problem or two, in my time—we've got to be able to think our way out of this mess, if we try. You're not alone, Claire. We'll help. I'll help."

"But you're a company man—a downsider—why should you . . . ?"

"GalacTech's not God, Claire. You shouldn't have to sacrifice your firstborn to it. GalacTech—any company—is just a way, one way, for people to organize themselves to do a job that's too big for one person to do alone. It's not God, it's not even a being, for pity's sake. It doesn't have a free will to answer for. It's just a collection of people, working. Bruce is only Bruce. There's got to be some way to get around him."

"You mean go over his head?" asked Silver thoughtfully. "Maybe to that vice president who was here last week?"

Leo paused. "Well . . . maybe not to Apmad. But I've been thinking—for three days, I've been thinking of nothing else but how to blow up this whole rotten set-up. But you've got to hang on, for me to have time to work—Claire, can you hang on? Can you?" His hands tightened urgently on hers.

She shook her head in doubt. "It hurts so much . . ."