foolish and embarrassed? Why was she hurrying away as fast as she could go with the heavy bag, desperately afraid that mocking laughter would follow her?
She was halfway back to the dock before she realized she had hours left of leave time. Forget it. She just wanted to get back to Evangeline and a world where the rules were hard and fast. She shifted her carry bag, set her face, and walked on.
Her orange coveralls were enough to get her waved past the safety lock that separated the docks from the station proper. She was halfway down the corridor to the security checkpoint when it suddenly occurred to her that she was carrying contraband. Incredibly stupid, not to have thought of this before. But she’d never before had anything to fear from the checkpoint. She slowed her step, not daring to stop and fearing to continue. Odd, how she had been aware of the illegality of her errand from the very beginning, but it only now dawned on her that this was where she would be caught. She kept walking, taking step after step toward her fate, her face set in stillness. Inevitable. No avoiding it. No turning back. Even if no one got suspicious at the lock, she had nowhere else to go. Might as well get it over with. This was where she paid for all her stupidity. They’d stop her, they’d confiscate the recordings, and the violation would let them access the confidential portion of her records. The Adjustment would be on there, and Readjustment would be mandatory. Only this time they would leave nothing untouched, not one memory would be unhandled, undiscussed, or unimproved. A coldness blew through her.
The girl at the checkpoint had her eyes down, focused on something, probably a lap terminal. Connie watched the crown of her head as she walked steadily toward her.
“Wait!”
The voice came from behind her, a half-hissed plea. She faltered, glanced back. John. He looked angry. She felt her guts tighten at the fury in his eyes. She retreated a half step closer to the checkpoint desk.
“Stop!” he hissed, and she was suddenly aware of the effort he was making not to shout. She halted where she was,and glanced once more at the security clerk. She was still absorbed in whatever she was doing.
A few strides of John’s long legs caught him up to her. He stepped between her and the clerk, glanced back down the hall, gave a half smile and a wave to someone else down there. Still smiling, he growled at Connie, “What do you think you’re doing? How stupid can you get?”
She looked up at him, indecision and confusion freezing her. He casually wrested the handles of the carry bag from her hand. That galvanized her. “Hey, that’s mine!”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I know whose this is, and I know where it came from. What kind of a fool do you take me for?”
Connie stared up at him, unable to speak. She had never seen another Human in such a pitch of anger before. It terrified her more than his words.
He glanced back the way they had come. Another group of Mariners were coming along behind them. “Damn. No going back now. Okay, then. You shut up. Don’t say a word, no matter what. Maybe we’ll manage to get through this with our licenses and minds intact. Then again, maybe not.” His words were grim, his eyes bright with anger, but the forced smile never left his face. Still gripping the tote bag, he strode toward the security clerk. Connie followed in his wake as if towed.
They stopped in front of the security check.
The guard glanced up at them. “Ship?” she asked disinterestedly.
“The Evangeline. Owned by Tug.” Connie listened to John calmly giving the answer.
“Names?”
“John Gen-93-Beta, ship’s captain.” John palmed in.
His glanced nudged Connie. “Connie Gen-103-Castor-Horticol-six. Crew.” Connie set her palm to the reader panel.
The attendant keyed in the information lazily, received a green flash to both. A match. “Station products?”
“Uh, garments. Entertainment tapes.” John lied
She was halfway back to the dock before she realized she had hours left of leave time. Forget it. She just wanted to get back to Evangeline and a world where the rules were hard and fast. She shifted her carry bag, set her face, and walked on.
Her orange coveralls were enough to get her waved past the safety lock that separated the docks from the station proper. She was halfway down the corridor to the security checkpoint when it suddenly occurred to her that she was carrying contraband. Incredibly stupid, not to have thought of this before. But she’d never before had anything to fear from the checkpoint. She slowed her step, not daring to stop and fearing to continue. Odd, how she had been aware of the illegality of her errand from the very beginning, but it only now dawned on her that this was where she would be caught. She kept walking, taking step after step toward her fate, her face set in stillness. Inevitable. No avoiding it. No turning back. Even if no one got suspicious at the lock, she had nowhere else to go. Might as well get it over with. This was where she paid for all her stupidity. They’d stop her, they’d confiscate the recordings, and the violation would let them access the confidential portion of her records. The Adjustment would be on there, and Readjustment would be mandatory. Only this time they would leave nothing untouched, not one memory would be unhandled, undiscussed, or unimproved. A coldness blew through her.
The girl at the checkpoint had her eyes down, focused on something, probably a lap terminal. Connie watched the crown of her head as she walked steadily toward her.
“Wait!”
The voice came from behind her, a half-hissed plea. She faltered, glanced back. John. He looked angry. She felt her guts tighten at the fury in his eyes. She retreated a half step closer to the checkpoint desk.
“Stop!” he hissed, and she was suddenly aware of the effort he was making not to shout. She halted where she was,and glanced once more at the security clerk. She was still absorbed in whatever she was doing.
A few strides of John’s long legs caught him up to her. He stepped between her and the clerk, glanced back down the hall, gave a half smile and a wave to someone else down there. Still smiling, he growled at Connie, “What do you think you’re doing? How stupid can you get?”
She looked up at him, indecision and confusion freezing her. He casually wrested the handles of the carry bag from her hand. That galvanized her. “Hey, that’s mine!”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I know whose this is, and I know where it came from. What kind of a fool do you take me for?”
Connie stared up at him, unable to speak. She had never seen another Human in such a pitch of anger before. It terrified her more than his words.
He glanced back the way they had come. Another group of Mariners were coming along behind them. “Damn. No going back now. Okay, then. You shut up. Don’t say a word, no matter what. Maybe we’ll manage to get through this with our licenses and minds intact. Then again, maybe not.” His words were grim, his eyes bright with anger, but the forced smile never left his face. Still gripping the tote bag, he strode toward the security clerk. Connie followed in his wake as if towed.
They stopped in front of the security check.
The guard glanced up at them. “Ship?” she asked disinterestedly.
“The Evangeline. Owned by Tug.” Connie listened to John calmly giving the answer.
“Names?”
“John Gen-93-Beta, ship’s captain.” John palmed in.
His glanced nudged Connie. “Connie Gen-103-Castor-Horticol-six. Crew.” Connie set her palm to the reader panel.
The attendant keyed in the information lazily, received a green flash to both. A match. “Station products?”
“Uh, garments. Entertainment tapes.” John lied
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