But the hard part, he knew, was still ahead.

After thirty minutes or so, he heard voices approaching again, and he resumed his hiding position. Now was when he most risked discovery, he feared. They’d been through the cells, they were more casual about being here, and the chance that someone might decide to step away from the tour and come behind the counter was increased. Once again, when they came near he slowed his breathing. He trembled from fear of discovery, and clenched his fists between his knees to keep his limbs from rapping against the floor or the side of the counter.

This time, the guide’s voice was quiet, as she’d already explained the function of this part of the prison. But the tourists were talking loudly, certainly drowning out any noises Dennis might have made. He stayed where he was until their voices began to fade, as the group made its way back outside, and then he cautiously raised his head above the protective counter. He saw people—humans and aliens, as well—walking from the inside’s dimness into bright light, blinking and shading their eyes. But no one turned back to look behind them, so he slipped from his hiding spot and hurried to the door, taking up the back of the line as they headed down the slope to the waiting skimmer. As they approached the dock, he moved up, nodding casually to those who caught his eye, pretending he had been with them all along. If anyone thought different, no one mentioned it.

On the skimmer, he took a seat on a long plastisteel bench. His worst moment came when the guide looked out at the group and asked, “Are we all here? We wouldn’t want to leave anyone behind.” He was afraid she might count heads, in which case he’d be found out. But she accepted the murmurs of affirmation that came from the crowd, and the skimmer pulled out, skipping across the choppy surf like a cast stone, the city growing ever larger in the front viewscreen.

Dennis started to calm down, finally, as the craft neared the port on the San Francisco side of the bay. The beginning of this project had been inauspicious, he thought, but it was getting better all the time.

He had escaped from Alcatraz.

Waiting for the others in their chosen alcove, Will began to get into the spirit of the mission. No one went in or out the doorway—Estresor Fil had chosen well; the corner storefront had windows chemically opaqued and appeared to be an empty space—but some of the passersby glared at him and Estresor Fil with suspicion. He couldn’t blame them—anyone who had been past more than once would realize that they’d been hanging around for a long time, without leaving or apparently having any real reason to be there. After an hour of it he was starting to feel as if they really were in a hostile city where his life could be in genuine danger.

But the meeting place they’d agreed on was this intersection. They could cross the street to a different corner, but the other corners were even busier, with open businesses where they would be in the way. Here, at least, they were out of the sun and shielded from casual view to some degree.

Just a few minutes past the hour, he saw Felicia Mendoza, strolling languidly up the other side of Jones Street wearing a loose royal blue top with black pants and boots, looking as if she didn’t have a care in the world. He started to say something to Estresor Fil about it, but then realized that she fit right in with those around her, whereas if she’d been moving with definite purpose she would have stood out among the crowd. He had realized that at first glance he’d thought she was a strikingly attractive woman, but it hadn’t sunk in that she was Felicia until he looked more closely.

She hadn’t seen them, and was crossing Sacramento. She knew this was the meeting point, so she would surely come back this way, he hoped. But when he stepped out of the alcove to look for her, she was out of sight, already over the crest of the hill. He caught Estresor Fil’s wide-eyed, unchanging but somehow accusatory gaze, and went after Felicia.

When he caught up with her, she had crossed Jones and was heading back up Sacramento, toward him. “Felicia,” he said. “I’m glad I caught you.”

She smiled, her big brown eyes seeming to twinkle at him. “ ‘Caught’ me?” she echoed. “I was coming to you.”

“So you saw us?” he asked.

“In your oh-so-secret doorway hideout? Of course. Did you think I was going to dash across the street straight to you? We’re supposed to be exercising some discretion, right?”

He turned around so they were both walking the right direction, back toward Estresor Fil. “Well, yes,” he said. “Which you did, very nicely.”

She looked sideways at him, her rich black hair falling across her cheek. Seeing her like this, in civilian clothes, acting the part of a casual San Franciscan instead of the frequently harried cadet she really was, Will decided he had never quite realized just how lovely she was. “Thank you,” she said, and her voice was as clear and pure as a ringing bell.

By the time they got back to Estresor Fil’s alcove, Boon had arrived and was lounging against the wall as if he didn’t have the strength to stand up. This was just Boon’s typical posture, though, except when he was in uniform and required to stand straight and tall. After a while, most cadets learned to hold their correct posture all the time, but for Boon it was only an obligation of service and would apparently never be a habit.

“I didn’t see you when I passed by,” Felicia said to him.

“Just got here.”

“Where did you beam in?” Will asked him.

“Up to my ankles in the Pacific Ocean,” Boon complained. “Anyone else get wet?”

“I didn’t,” Estresor Fil said.

“I wasn’t too far away at all, as it turned out,” Felicia said. “So I took a walk around the neighborhood, familiarizing myself with the local landmarks.”

“So it’s just me. It’s always me,” Boon said morosely.

“Your life is so hard,” Felicia sighed.

“But we don’t know where Dennis is,” Will pointed out. “For all we know, he has it worse than you.”

“Fat chance,” Boon opined.

They waited another hour, and then some. Finally, Estresor Fil spotted Dennis on his way, and eight minutes later he reached them. After an overly long explanation of his plight and his solution to it, he produced what they’d all been waiting for—the first clue of their project.

They all looked at the document blankly. “Twins?’’ Boon asked. “What twins?”

Chapter 8

“That’s kind of the point, isn’t it?” Felicia responded. “We’re supposed to figure the clues out. If it was easy, it wouldn’t really be a challenge, now would it?”

Boon looked at her as if she’d lost her mind. “I don’t know about you, but I’m already tired of this,” he said. “It’s nonsense. Running all over the place when it’d be so much easier to use transporters. Figuring out clues. I think my feet are still pruney from the water, and they hurt.”

“I would suggest you quit, Boon,” Estresor Fil told him. “Except that we’re a squadron, and your failure would affect all of us. So perhaps you should just take it in stride and shut up.”

The Coridanian looked stricken then. Will, always curious about Estresor Fil’s ways and motivations, wondered if she was really just being blunt, or if she had intentionally tried to wound him, hoping, perhaps, that it would inspire him to greater effort. And less whining,he thought, that would be good too.Boon fancied himself a great leader and a starship captain in the making, but Will figured that any captain who bitched and moaned as much as Boon did would be begging for mutiny, probably within the first few days of his command.

He had to admit that while the complaining was annoying, Boon really did have a lot of good qualities—he was smart, made decisions fast and well, could think on his feet, and could inspire the loyalty of those around him. Until the sour attitude took over, and then all that loyalty was gone. Perhaps if Boon had been chosen as the leader of this final project, he’d have stowed the negativity and would already be leading them toward their objective. Dennis, obviously worn out from his ordeal so far, wasn’t exactly taking the helm and inspiring confidence, so maybe Boon would have been the better choice. But Will didn’t want to let Dennis’s chance at leadership vanish. He decided to spur his friend on. “Do you have any ideas, Dennis? You’ve had the clue the longest.”