"Before we leave," Georges corrected me gently.

"Georges, I think this route would work, for me. For you, all it would do is get you farther and farther away from Québec. Didn't you say that McGill is your other base?"

"Dear lady, I have no wish to go to McGill. Since the police are being difficult here, my true home, I can think of nothing I would

rather do than travel with you. Once we cross into Washington Province of California you can change your name from Mrs. Tormey to Mrs. Perreault, as it is certain, I think, that both my Maple Leaf card and my Credit Québec card will be accepted."

(Georges, you are a gallant darling... and when I'm trying to pull a caper I need a gallant darling the way I need an Oregon boot. And I will have to pull one, dear-despite what Janet said, I will not be home free.) "Georges, that sounds delightful. I can't tell you that you must stay home... but I must tell you that I am by profession a courier who has traveled for years by herself, all over this planet, more than once to space colonies, and to Luna. Not yet to Mars or Ceres but I may be ordered to at any time."

"You are saying that you would rather I did not accompany you."

"No, no! I am merely saying that, if you choose to go with me, it will be purely social. For your pleasure and mine. But I must add that when I enter the Imperium I must go alone, as I will be back on duty at once."

Ian said, "Marj, at least let Georges get you out of here and into territory where there is no silly talk of interning you, and where your credit card is valid."

Janet added, "It's getting free of that silly internment thing that is important. Marj, you can hang onto my Visa card as long as you wish; I'll use my Maple Leaf card instead. Just remember that you are Jan Parker."

"Parker?"

"Visa has my maiden name on it. Here, take it." I accepted it, thinking that I would use it only when someone was looking over my shoulder. When possible, I would charge things to the late Lieutenant Dickey, whose credit should remain viable for days, possibly weeks. There was more chitchat and at last I said,

"I'm leaving now. Georges, are you coming with me?"

Ian said, "Hey! Not tonight. First thing in the morning."

"Why? The tubes run all night, do they not?" (I knew that they did.)

"Yes but it's over twenty klicks to the nearest tube station. And dark as the inside of a pile of coal."

(Not the time to discuss enhanced vision.) "Ian, I can walk that

far by midnight. If a capsule leaves at midnight, I can get practically a full night's sleep in Bellingham. If the border is open between California and the Imperium, I'll report to my boss tomorrow morning. Better so, huh?"

A few minutes later we all left, by surrey. Ian was not pleased with me as I had not been the sweet, soft, amenable creature that men prefer. But he got over his annoyance and kissed me very sweetly when they dropped us at Perimeter and McPhillips across from the tube station. Georges and I crowded into the twenty-threeo'-clock capsule, then we had to stand up all the way across the continent.

But we were in Vancouver by twenty-two (Pacific Time-midnight in Winnipeg), picked up applications for tourist cards as we entered the Bellingham shuttle, filled them out en route, had them processed by the exit computer as we left the shuttle a few minutes later. The human operator didn't even look up as the machine spit out our cards. She just murmured, "Enjoy your stay," and went on reading.

At Bellingham the Vancouver Shuttle Station exits into the lower lobby of the Bellingham Hilton; facing us was a glowing sign floating in space:

THE BREAKFAST BAR

Steaks-Short Orders-Cocktails

Breakfast Served Twenty-Four Hours

Georges said, "Mrs. Tormey my love, it occurs to me that we neglected to eat dinner."

"Mr. Tormey, you are so right. Let's shoot a bear."

"Cooking in the Confederacy is not exotic, not sophisticated. But in its own robust way it can be quite satisfying-especially if one has had time to grow a real appetite. I have eaten at this establishment before. Despite its name, one may have a variety of dishes. But, if you will accept the breakfast menu and allow me to order for you, I think that I can guarantee that your hunger will be pleasantly assuaged."

"Georges-I mean 'Ian'-I have eaten your soup. You can order for me anytime!"

It was truly a bar-no tables. But the stools had backs and were padded and they came up to the bar without banging knees-comfortable. Apple-juice appetizers were placed in front of us as we sat down. Georges ordered for us, then slid out and went over to the reception desk and punched us in. When he returned, he said as he sat down again, "Now you may call me 'Georges,' and you are 'Mrs. Perreault.' For that is how I punched us in." He picked up his appetizer. "Sante, ma chère femme."

I picked up mine. "Merci. Et a la tienne, mon cher man." The juice was sparkling cold, and as sweet as the sentiment. While I did not intend to have a husband again, Georges would make a good one, whether in jest, as now, or in reality. But he was simply lent to me by Janet.

Our "breakfast" arrived:

Ice-cold Yakima apple juice

Imperial Valley strawberries with Sequim cream

Two eggs, eyes-up and gently basted, resting on medium-rare steak so tender it would cut with a fork-"Eggs on Horseback"

Large hot biscuits, Sequim butter, sage and clover honey

Kona coffee in oversize cups

Coffee, juice, and biscuits were renewed constantly-a second serving of steak and eggs was offered but we had to refuse.

The noise level and the way we were seated did not encourage conversation. There was an Opportunity Ads screen back of the bar. Each ad remained on screen just long enough to be read but, as usual, each was keyed by number to be called back for leisurely viewing at individual terminals at each guest's place at the bar. I found myself reading them idly while I ate:

The Free Ship Jack Pot is recruiting crew members

at Vegas Labor Mart. Bonus to combat veterans.

Would a pirate ship advertise that baldly? Even in Vegas Free State? Hard to believe but still harder to read it any other way.

Smoke the Toke that Jesus Smoked!

ANGEL STICKS

Guaranteed Noncarcinogenic

Cancer cannot worry me but neither THC nor nicotine is for me; a woman's mouth should be sweet.

GOD is waiting for you at suite 1208 Lewis and Clark Towers. Don't make Him come get you.

You won't like it.

I didn't like it anyhow.

BORED?

We are about to abandon a pioneer party on a virgin planet type T-13. Guaranteed sex ratio 50-40-10±2% Median bio age 32±1. No temperament test required No Assessments-No Contributions-No Rescue

System Expansion Corporation

Division of Demography and Ecology

Luna City GPO lock box DEMO

or punch Tycho 800-2300

I called that one back and reread it. How would it feel to tackle a brand-new world side by side with comrades?-people who could not possibly know my origin. Or care. My enhancements might make me respected rather than a freak-as long as I did not flaunt them.

"Georges, look at this, please."

He did so. "What about it?"

"It could be fun-no?"

"No! Marjorie, on the T scale anything over eight calls for a large cash bonus, lavish equipment, and trained colonists. A thirteen is an exotic route to suicide, that's all."