Pale dawn seeped through the tall windows in the stairwell across the hall, hardly enough to see by but enough to shut down the sensor-driven LED cluster overhead. I nosed through the mob gathered around the empty elevator shaft where the ladder rose from the dock. Spotting a half-empty cubby and a free hook, I shouldered my way to it, listening to the news grow more dramatic with each retelling. Half-listening, actually. More like, thinking hard and fast. I’d reached the point of no return.

Any picker coming off duty was required first thing to report their take to the tellers in the main hall, so I had to be sure in my mind before I walked in there. But I knew already what I would do. And in case I wasn’t feeling guilty enough, as I stripped down to my damp undershirt and hung my sodden work clothes on the hook, a gust of cheers blew up and Rousseau climbed like a hero out of the elevator shaft, shaking his head, waving off questions and concerns. He halted on the top rung, waiting for the din to ease. Rousseau never liked shouting over other people’s noise.

“It’s all over, folks, nothing much to it. Go on back to what you were doing.”

Instead, he got a chorus of FAQs: Boss, what about this? What about that? What if they come back, what if they bring their friends? Didn’t want to let him off easy.

“Boss, was it Adders?” a final voice shrilled.

“No, no, not Adders.”

Rousseau was a big man, ebony-skinned and well-muscled, solid rather than tall. He moved with grace and an old-fashioned formality totally at odds with his casual garb: an old leather vest over a bare chest, well-worn jeans and bare callused feet. The formality enforced a halo of private space around him, even in a crowd. You never saw anyone hug Rousseau, or pat him on the back, even the guys in his cadre from before. He was never just folks. A handshake was as close as you got.

Insistent now, he raised both palms, pale against his dark, scarred arms. His voice was deep and practiced. “Listen up! There’s nothing to worry about, so let’s settle on down. It’s dawn time. Night shift’s coming in. They need their tallies done so they can hit the Mess or their bunks. Let’s be on about it!”

The mob parted obediently to let him through to the big central hall, dubbed Main, then piled in after him to mill about and bring their racket inside.

Rubio caught up at the cubbies. “Always sounds like he’s at a press conference.”

Whatever that was.

“You could learn from him.” I flashed him a sour grin. Really didn’t want him around right then, with my decision to be sure of. “I gotta go tally.”

“What’s the rush?”