THROUGH the days that followed, shuttles arrived from various parts of Earth, bringing more who would be joining the Constellation. Accommodation aboard the ship was not always ready on time, and Grayling Station became a staging post, filled beyond its normal capacity. There were so many comings and goings, people crowded into makeshift dormitories for a night and gone the next, vessels docking and leaving at the Axle, that there was little opportunity to check for names and faces that one might know. But chance encounters did occur among those who had been in earlier preparatory courses together.
Linc and Julie had grabbed the chance unwind for an hour in the low-gravity exercise and pool area in the Axle. Rocky and Liz were with them, making the best of the unusual circumstance of all four getting a midday break together. They were sitting in a terrace area overlooking the Axle canteen, where the glass enclosing walls let them follow the docking operations at the ports outside and shuttles maneuvering around the Constellation in the distance. Below the terrace and the observation windows ran a gallery carrying a traffic of people moving between the docking ports and other parts of Grayling.
"Oh, I got hauled in through getting mixed up in what my older brother was into," Rocky told the others. "He used to be with the Canadian counterterrorism units and kinda ended up running his own private army when he got out. You know, stashing illegal weapons—they're real hot on that up there. Paramilitary things with other vets."
"What kind of things?" Julie asked.
"Oh . . . contract services for people who maybe wanted to exert a little pressure somewhere, you know—like dealers being slow on payment. Or maybe who are worried about protecting assets they'd rather the government didn't know about. Anyway, when they got me it was over some trumped-up thing because they figured I'd be able to give them names. So I ended up with these four guys in a back room for, you know, the treatment—and they must have been there for practice or something because they weren't much more than kids themselves. Well, I creamed all four of 'em pretty good, and they didn't like that at all . . . " Rocky paused while Liz emitted a peal of delighted laughter. She had no doubt heard it before but apparently never tired of it. "And that put me in the line for a deep hole somewhere, except that this option came up." Rocky shrugged and gestured around. "And here I am."
"Well, I'm sure glad it did," Liz said, clasping his arm.
"Did your brother show you how to fight too?" Linc asked.
Rocky nodded. "Oh sure. He learned it with the military. Used to fight as an army boxer too. You wouldn't want to mess with him."
"Where is he now?" Julie asked.
"I'm not sure. Life got too cramped, so he moved on.
Down south somewhere, I heard—South America. There's action there. That'd be enough."
Linc got the feeling that Rocky probably knew more. There were ways people like that stayed in touch. And good reasons why they kept it to themselves.
"Hey, get a load of that one moving in toward the Constellation now," Liz said, nodding toward the window wall. "Aren't those Russian markings on it?"
The others turned their heads to look. "Heavy freight lifter," Rocky pronounced. "They boost them up with ground lasers. Maybe it's full of wood to panel some general's bedroom."
"That would keep Rick busy for a while," Julie said.
Linc looked away. The table they were sitting at was by a rail looking down one of the stairways to the gallery. Among the figures moving in slow bounds or by pulling along the handrails below were three men together, one of them in a tan uniform that caught his eye—similar to the kind worn by the coaches at Coulie. One of the other two was in a regular casual jacket, while the third, in the center, carrying a briefcase, wore the black suit and reversed collar of a cleric. Linc sat up sharply as they came nearer and the light caught the priest's features. He was of dark, Mexican appearance with a thin mustache. Linc tugged Julie's sleeve and nodded. "Tell me I'm not seeing things. Is that guy in the middle down there Angelo from Coulie, or is it Angelo from Coulie?"
Julie leaned across the table to see and then gasped. "Oh, my God!" she exclaimed. "It is! . . . But what's he doing in that outfit?"
"Who's Angelo?" Rocky asked.
"Somebody we were within Phase One. Linc's first real friend there," Julie replied.
"I'll be right back," Linc said, getting up.
He loped across to the stairs and descended as fast as was possible in the reduced gravity, floating like a balloon on his feet and moving more by pulling with his hands. By the time he caught up with the group, they had turned a corner into the main corridor leading to the docking ports and unloading bays. "Hey, Angelo!" he called. The figure in the dark suit stopped and looked back. Then his face split into the familiar wide grin.
"Linc!" The two men with Angelo looked at him questioningly. He said something to them. They nodded and moved on.
"Don't forget the gate closes in fifteen minutes," one of them called back.
Linc and Angelo moved to one side of the corridor, out of the flow of people, and shook hands warmly. Linc spread his arms in disbelief. "I thought you'd have lost that tan out here" was all he could think of to say just at that moment.
"Why? The Sun's stronger. So how you been making out? Doing okay?"
"Sure. We went through Seville T, in Texas."
"Uh-huh." Angelo nodded. It evidently needed no explaining. "You're looking great. The military, eh? Somehow I wouldn't have thought it."
"Oh, I didn't exactly plan things that way, but that's another story. How about you? Where did you go from Coulie?"
"Oh, a little here, a little there. You know how they move you around."
"Right. Always hectic. Say, you remember Julie?"
"Julie with the eyes? Who wouldn't?"
"She's here too—in fact, with some friends just a little way back there. Do you want to stop by?"
Angelo showed his palms. "I'd love to, but I'm boarding in a few minutes. Shipping back out with the Constellation. You say hi to her for me, you hear? Tell her we'll all meet up again in the Zone sometime. And that's a promise."
"Oh, too bad. So you'll actually be on your way out there tomorrow? . . ." Linc's brow creased. Did Angelo just say shipping back out? He stared again at Angelo's clothes, the unvoiced question written across his face. Angelo had evaded saying exactly what he'd done after Coulie. Certainly, nothing about going on to a Phase Two anywhere. Angelo returned an easy grin and waited, letting Linc figure out the implication for himself.
And then it hit him. "You were right," Linc breathed, staring incredulously. "That first time we met, when I was digging that ditch after Royal whined out. There were plants in Coulie. You were one of them!"
Angelo looked apologetic but kept smiling. "Hey, it was the only way, you know. We had to be aware of what was happening among you guys. Somebody had to be in there to start breaking down all that distrust and anger, and begin turning it around. And, I mean, getting dragged up rock faces and having to help you deal with situations like Arvin . . . "
"He's a cadet here too," Linc said, still in a dazed voice.
"There are easier ways of making a living, you know, man. No hard feelings, eh?"
It was true. Angelo had been the first person to treat Linc with anything like decency, that day. It was Angelo who had insisted on their going back to the counter to compliment the kitchen girl's efforts. Angelo had been the first to stand next to Linc when he'd faced Arvin and the other two alone . . . .
"It's okay," Linc said, although he hadn't fully absorbed it. "Back then I might have gotten mad. But now I've seen too much."
Angelo seemed relieved and genuinely pleased. "You'll do okay now. Believe me. I've seen a lot. One of the reasons they picked me is that I'm older than you probably think."
"So you're actually going back . . . ." Angelo's nod told Linc there was no need to complete the question. "Is it really everything they say out there?" Linc asked instead.
"More than they say. It's not so much the luxuries—forget all that. But being among people who are alive, who haven't had the spirit drained out of them. You'll see it for yourself. Another ship's due out next month—the Neil Armstrong. I'll lay a dollar to a cent you'll be on it."
"You really think so?"
"We need everyone we can get . . . " Angelo glanced at his watch. "Well . . ."
"I'll run into you again out there, maybe."
"You bet. I'll make a point of tracking you down."
"Then, take care, okay . . . . And thanks, really—for everything."
"Just doing my job." Angelo began moving away.
"I never even told you who I am," Linc called after him.
Angelo looked back from among other figures going the same way. "It's okay, I know. Linc Marani, right?"
Linc stood watching him recede, until suddenly the rest dawned on him. "I don't know yours," he shouted out.
"Hilvarez," Angelo's voice carried back.