April 25, 2056. Sara was still asleep when the call came in. It was Detention 12 again. One of their retros was out. She wolfed down her coffee and toast while the file came in over the fax. Terence Allen Woods, age; 53. Detention since April of 2046. Offence; refusal to undergo aggression therapy. No overt violent tendencies, but consistent refusal of all rehab options. Cooperative with custodians, well socialized with other detainees. No previous escape attempts. Work assignment; motor pool. The mug shot showed a strong face, not handsome, not homely, clean and honest, but stubbornly, unapologetically, defiantly male. Pity. Sara punched up Central Dispatch and Lydia answered.

"Hi, Lydia, you're looking chipper this morning."

"Thanks. I just got back from two weeks in Cabo. You on call today?"

"Yeah. You got an update for me on this Terence Woods? How long has he been AWOL?"

"He missed roll call at five-thirty this morning, but they think he skipped out sometime around two. He had special permission to work late on the warden's car, but he hot-wired an old 4-wheeler and crashed the south fence."

"You said 'around two'. Didn't the alarm go off?"

"No. There was a unexplained power failure for five minutes at two o'clock, but it came back on by itself, so no one paid any attention. LocSat picked up his chip in Placer County, but he went off the scope about a quarter to seven. He made a ten-minute stop in Forest Run just off the interstate, so someone there might know something."

"Okay, thanks. Buzz me if you hear anything more."

"Sure thing. Take care."

Sara put on her field uniform, packed her gear and loaded it into the Solavette. She pulled up Forest Run on the SatAtlas and clicked on the autonav. The vehicle gently lifted and moved forward. She hadn't bothered packing a suitcase. It usually didn't take but a couple of hours to round up one of these retros. The implanted microchips made them easy to locate, and since they weren't really criminals, per se, they had little or no experience in evading law enforcement officers. Sometimes you'd get a violent one, but most were pretty docile once you caught up with them. The fact was, all any of them would have to do would be to submitto a simple laser procedure, and they could be walking around free men again. It was such a shame they were so stubborn.

The General Store at Forest Run was small and primitive, with an old-fashioned push-open door, and wheeled carts that you rolled through the aisles to pick up your purchases from open stock shelves. Evidently there were still a few remote outposts on the planet where computerized inventories and automated selectors still hadn't reached. Sara showed themug shot to the pleasant young man at the register.

"Sure, he was in here early this morning. Got me out of bed, in fact. I helped him load his order and he took off."

"His order?"

"That's right. Camping supplies and staple foods, enough to last six months at least. I had it all packed and ready for him."

"What do you mean, 'staple foods'?" Sara was puzzled by the unfamiliar term.

"You know, beans, rice, cornmeal, flour, stuff like that."

"To cook with?"

"Yes, to cook with."

"And he ordered all this stuff when?"

Two weeks ago. Paid in advance with a credit card."

"May I see the order, please?"

"Sure thing." He found the sheet in the file drawer and handed it to her. She ran down the list. Sleeping bag, tarps, dishes, pots and pans, battery powered lanterns and a solar recharger. Even a laser blade. Everything a man would need for an extended stay in the wilderness. He must have been planing this for a long time.

"I'll need a copy of this order."

"There's a copier over there. Fifty cents a copy."

Thanks. Did you happen to notice which way he went?"

"First road on your right. It's paved for about a mile, then dirt. It peters out about five miles out of town. What's this guy wanted for, anyway?"

"I'm not at liberty to say."

"He's a retro, isn't he? I don't know why you people don't just leave them alone. They're not hurting anyone, most of them, anyway."

"Well, it's their choice. Anyway, it's not up to me. I don't make the laws, I just enforce them."

"Isn't that what they said at Nuremberg? 'I was just following orders'?"

"Great. Just what I need. A history major." Sara slipped the copy into her folder and walked back to the Solavette. She flipped open the satphone and punched up Central. "Hi, Lydia, it's Sara. Listen, I'm at the Forest Run General Store, and he was here all right. He bought camping supplies and six months worth of food and charged it to a credit card. I need you to run the number for me." Sara read off the number and waited. "You're kidding! You're not kidding. He charged his getaway to the camp commissary? Talk about chutzpah! Anything new from LocSat?.....Ten miles due east of here, huh?.....He's probably hiding out in an old mine shaft or something. This whole area was one big goldmine a couple hundred years ago. I have a feeling I should've packed a change of clothes after all. This one could take a while.....Thanks, 'bye."

Across the street was a small park, or at least what passed for one in the little burg; a couple of picnic tables under a tree and a creaky old merry-go-round. She might as well have her lunch here. She zipped open a redi-meal and zapped it in the 'vette's mini-wave. Meat loaf, mashed potatoes and gravy, mixed vegetables. She hated eating on the road. She washed it all down with a pouch of soda, and dumped the waste in the autocinerator. She was ready to hit the road again.

Sara shifted from maglev to trak drive and turned onto the road the sales clerk had indicated. She was beginning to think she might have underestimated this Woods character. Those old 4-wheel drive vehicles could go almost anywhere her Solavette could go, and if he was as well-prepared as he seemed to be, he probably had a good hideout already picked out. And now he was armed, which made him potentially dangerous. At the end of the dirt road she turned on the VapoSniff and set it for gasoline. There might not be any tire tracks, but she could always follow his exhaust fumes onthe ground.

The scenery was spectacularly beautiful. All around her the spring flowers bloomed. Scrubby bushes and knee-high grass were interspersed with numerous rocky outcroppings, and in the distance the towering snow-capped peaks with their densely forested slopes caught and reflected the afternoon sun. She slammed to a halt as a white-tailed deer bounded across the meadow not fifty feet in front of her. She paused a moment, her heart in her throat.

The climb got rougher and steeper, and it was another hour before Sara finally caught a glimpse of the old 4-wheeler parked on a level area in front of an old abandoned mine. So far, so good. She turned on the hand-held locator and keyed in Woods' ID number. Nothing. He must be underground. She parked her own vehicle about a hundred feet to the right of the tunnel, set her weapon on stun, and made her way cautiously to the opening.

"Terence Woods, I know you're in there!" she shouted. "Come out with your hands up and nobody gets hurt!" No answer. "Three minutes, Woods. Come on out and you won't get hurt." She waited three minutes, then four. She sighed. He wasn't going to make this easy. She walked back to the 'vette and got her flashlight and night-vision goggles. She entered the cavern, and its coolness stunned her. The rough-hewn rock walls exuded moisture, and the air was damp and musty. Overhead the ancient timbers creaked slightly. Sara shivered. She moved forward and the crunch of her footfalls echoed off the walls. She looked down and saw she was standing on a bed of crushed rock which lay between the wooden crossties of the old railbed that led into the mine. She stepped again, this time on one of the ties, and her rubber soles made no sound. She put her light on low and pressed forward, looking always to both sides, alert for any sign of life.

A hundred yards in, the tunnel turned sharply to the right. She made a wide sweep to the left. She wasn't about to get caught in an ambush. A volley of squeaking and the rush of thousands of wings startled her, made her duck. Bats. She relaxed, laughing at herself. She pressed on. She was coming to an intersection. Another tunnel crossed at right angels to the first. She crept soundlessly froward and shone her light in both directions, but saw nothing. She switched off the light and waited a moment for her eyes to adjust. Was that a glimmer of light? There, to the left. She flipped down the night-vision goggles. Yes, there was definitely something down there.

Sara moved warily toward the light, constantly looking to both sides, her ears straining for the tiniest sound. The tunnel curved gently to the right, and again she made a wide sweep. Fifty feet down the corridor a small lamp stood alone next to the damp wall. An obvious ambush. She halted, searching for a niche, a fissure, a cubby-hole, any dark corner where a man could hide. Nothing. She raised the goggles, switched on her light and looked again. She must be missing something. He was here. She could slmost feel his breath, the very heat from his body. Suddenly there was a thud behind her, and a powerful arm encircled her shoulders. A dart of pain shot through her neck, and everything wentblack.

When she came to, she was sitting on the floor of a roomy grotto, the intersection of several main tunnels. Her hands were securely bound to the massive support beam behind her, and her shoes were nowhere in sight. Neither was Woods. She tugged at the rope, but there was no slack at all, and her fingers searched in vain for a knot. The single lamp cast eerie shadows on the walls and defined the fugitive's "home"; a spread-out tarp with the sleeping bag still rolled up in the corner, a two-burner stove, several rickety wooden crates stacked to form a kind of cupboard. In the center of the room, a bucket sat under a persistent drip, catching the water for future use.

Something was cooking in a large kettle over an open fire. Sara was fascinated by the yellow and orange fingers dancing around the edges of the stones. She'd heard about open-flame cooking as a child, but she'd never actually seen it done before. From behind her came the sound of footsteps approaching.

"Feeling better, I hope." He smiled amiably, as if she had just dropped in for coffee and doughnuts. "Those ropes aren't too tight, are they?" He checked his handiwork." Don't want to cut off the circulation."

"Terence Woods, you're under arrest," she said with all the authority she could muster.

"Of course." He lifted the lid on the kettle and stirred the contents with a large wooden spoon. He sampled it and shook his head slightly.

"You're making a big mistake here, Woods," Sara asserted herself again.

"Please, call me Terence. I know. Not enough basil. Big mistake."

"That's not what I mean and you know it. You weren't really a criminal before, but kidnapping and assaulting an officer are serious charges. Let me loose now, I'll take you back in, and we'll forget this ever happened." Terence chose a small bottle from the row of condiments in his crude cabinet and crumbled a little of it in his hand. He added it to the mixture in the pot and tasted it again.

"That's better. If I wasn't a criminal, why was I in prison?"

"It's not prison, it's a detention camp, and you could've left at any time if you'd just cooperated."

"Cooperated? By letting them brainwash and sterilize me?"

"It's a totally harmless procedure, and it's necessary for public safety reasons. I'm sure you remember how things were before, all the wars, murders, muggings, people being shot down in the street. We can't risk going back to that again."

"So along comes Dr. Nichols with her musical babies, and now you have a whole generation of pacifists with perfect pitch. Everything is all honky-dory, right?"

"Damn right! Isolating the aggression gene was the best thing that ever happened to the world, and if that gene is replaced by one that makes people more musically inclined, well, so much the better. What with gangs everywhere and murderers getting younger every day, can you blame the mothers for choosing to have non-aggressive babies?

"Ah, there's the magic word, 'choice'. Nobody gave me a choice. It was 'get processed or else'."

"Because they can't risk tainted genes getting back into the pool. If you were to go out and father a bunch of babies..." Terence laughed.

"Father a bunch of babies? By whom, may I ask? Even if I wanted more kids, which I don't, my wife died five years ago, and I'm not likely to find a partner from your generation."

"You might rape someone."

"Oh, come on! You've seen my record. You know I'm not a violent person."

"You attacked me."

"Did I hurt you?"

"No, I suppose not. Where did you learn about pressure points, anyway?"

"Army Medical Corps." Terence turned back to his cooking. "I was in Taiwan in '23 when the Chinese tried to move in. I had to treat a few POW's who weren't exactly grateful."

"So if you didn't want kids, and you don't consider yourself violent, why not just go ahead and get the treatment? You could go home tomorrow."

"It's a matter of principle. You don't imprison someone for a crime they haven't committed, and you don't treat someone for a disease they don't have. My body is my own, and the state has no right to seize it without just cause."

"It's in the interest of public safety." Sara jerked against the ropes. "The people have a right to be secure."

"That's bull and you know it. If kids grow up violent, it's because their parents didn't teach them self-control, not because they were born with faulty genes."

"Well, all I know is, there hasn't been a war of any kind in more than ten years, and the murder rate is practically zero."

"But at what cost? Self-control is one of the hallmarks of human nature. Take that away and we take a step back towards the jungle."

"That may or may not be true, but it's still the law, and I'm sworn to enforce it." Terence shook his head.

"Bad laws shouldn't be enforced, they should be overturned."

That's for the courts to decide. I just do my job."

"Now who's brainwashed? You have any kids, Sara?"

"Not yet. How did you know my name?" He reached into his shirt pocket and held up her badge and ID card. She snorted. "So now you're a thief, too."

He tossed it on to the tarp, next to her goggles and flashlight. "I've stolen nothing. You're welcome to take all your gear with you when you leave."

"When I leave, I'm taking you with me. Where's my weapon?"

"In a safe place. You married?"

"No, and I don't plan to be, not that it's any of your business. I have a good job with excellent potential for advancement, I own my own apartment, and I have more friends than I can count. A husband would just complicate things."

"But you do plan to have children." Terence spread out a four-foot square checkered cloth onto the tarp and laid out napkins and silverware.

"One. I have a girl on order. She's going to be implanted later this month when my cycle's right."

"Yes, that's the way it's done now, isn't it? You place your order, tell them what kind of kid you want, and they custom-build an embryo just for you. No mystery, no suspense."

"So what's wrong with that? You wouldn't buy a car sight unseen, or a computer system, so why take chances with a baby? And nobody has to worry about birth defects anymore."

"So simple, so neat and clean. No muss, no fuss, no partner, no sex." Sara bristled.

I can get all the sex I want from any of the servers down on Bates Street, and they're all licensed and screened. I can even have one come up to my apartment if I want to. You really are behind the times, aren't you?"

"There's nothing new about prostitution, Sara. They've just cleaned them up a little and put them on a pension plan. And what about love?"

"What about it? I've been in love three times this year alone. It's great for a few weeks, but then what? You can't stay in love forever."

"You can if you want to. What you're talking about isn't love, just a passing fancy. Real love lasts for years, a lifetime if you're lucky." He yanked on the end of the rope, and her hands came loose. "Dinner's ready." Sara rubbed her wrists.

"Aren't you afraid I'll jump you and haul you in?" Terence laughed.

"There are forty miles of tunnel in this mine on five different levels. Do you know which way is out?"

"No," she admitted.

"Then sit down and eat your dinner." Terence spooned some of the hot beans from the pot onto a tin plate. He sat cross-legged on the tarp and balanced his plate on his knees. Sara followed suit. She took a generous bite of the beans.

"Say, this is really good! I can't believe you mixed all these ingredients together yourself." He laughed.

"It's called cooking. I gather you've never actually done it yourself."

"Me? Of course not. Why should I"

"Why indeed? Try the dumpling." She took a bite.

"It's delicious. And green salad too. How did you manage that?"

"Fresh-picked from the meadow downstream." He laughed at her incredulous expression. "Yes, it grows wild." Sara finished her meal and laid down her plate. She shifted uncomfortably on the mat. For the first time ever, she was beginning to have some slight misgivings about her job. This Woods really was a likeable person, in spite of his antiquated notions, and she'd never before met a man this strong and self-reliant. If only he weren't so blasted stubborn. She tossed a pebble into the dying fire.

"How long do you intend to keep me here?" she demanded.

"How long would it take for you to forget you found me?"

"That's out of the question. Even if I brought in a negative report, every time you went outside for some greens or fresh meat, the satelite'd pick up your chip. They'd just send somebody else out, and I'd lose my job in the bargain."

"Then I'll just stay underground until it gives out."

"That could take years."

"Then I'll cut it out and smash it."

"You could paralyze yourself trying to find it."

"Then you take it out for me."

"No way! Listen, you've got to let me take you in. There's just no getting around it."

"No. There has to be another way. We just haven't thought of it yet." Terence gathered up the dirty dishes and carried them to a bucket of water in the corner.

"We! What do you mean we? We're not on the same side here, you know. I'm the cop, you're the criminal, remember?"

"Not criminal. Detainee."

"Whatever. Anyway, if I don't report in by tomorrow morning they'll send someone to look for me. They'll spot my car from the air and be here in half an hour." Terence shook his head.

"I moved both vehicles well inside the tunnel."

"Then they'll pick up your exhaust with the sniffer, the same way I did."

"Even if it rains tonight?" Sara frowned. They HAD predicted heavy rain. Terence smiled. "That's what I thought." He finished washing the dishes and tossed the dirty water down a roped-off shaft. He rinsed the bucket and set it under the drip, placing the full one in the corner. Sara stood up and stretched her legs and back. Terence anticipated her question. "If you need to use the facilities, it's down the hall to the left. You'll find a pit and the necessary amenities, and a shovel to cover it when you're finished."

"Thanks a bunch." Sara picked up her light and disappeared down the corridor. When she returned, Terence had spread out the bedroll and was rifling through a small stack of thin cardboard rectangles. He gestured toward the other end of the sleeping bag.

"Sit down." He laid one of the patterned cards in front of her and another in front of himself.

"What's that for?" she asked.

"Don't tell me you've never played poker." He dealt two more cards.

"Poker's a computer game. What the hell are those?" Terence shook his head in disbelief.

"How soon they forget. People played games with cards for hundreds, if not thousands of years before computers were even invented." He dealt two more.

"But they're all the same," she protested. "How can you play poker with these?"

"Turn them over, silly, but don't let me see them." He finished dealing and set the pack between them. "Lay your discards face up in front of you. I'll deal your replacements." Sara fumbled with her handful of cards. "No," he corrected. "Spread them out in a fan, like this." A bit more fumbling and she had it. She discarded two, and he dealt her replacements, giving himself one. She laughed.

"This is so weird." She arranged the new cards in her hand. "Three nines." She laid it out on the tan fabric.

"Pair of sixes. You win." He threw down his hand and handed her the deck. "Your deal." Sara clumsily dealt ten cards and set up her new hand. "Crud." Terence tossed out four of his cards, and Sara took two. Again she won. He made a face. "How about a little 5-card stud?"

"Sure, but don't we need something to bet with?"

"You're right, of course." He walked over to the tracks and came back with a large handful of stones which he divided evenly between them.

"A fortune in gold nuggets, M'lady," he smiled. For over three hours they talked and played, the pot flowing back and forth between them. Finally all the rocks were in front of Sara. Terence shuffled the cards. "One more hand. Your deal."

"What are you going to use for a stake? You don't have anything left."

"I still have my freedom."

"You're not serious."

"Never more so." He looked her straight in the eyes. She took the deck in her hand.

"You mean if I win this hand you'll go in with me, no argument, no resistance?" He nodded.

"And if I win, you'll go back and tell them I'm dead."

"They won't believe me."

"I'll take my chances."

"You're crazy."

"Maybe. Deal." Sara dealt the hole cards, then the next pair face up. He got the king of spades, she the five of hearts.

"Not bad for a start," she allowed. On the next round he drew the ace of spades and she got the six of hearts. She raised an eyebrow. "Possible straight flush, both hands." The next round gave him the five of spades and her the nine of clubs. "Oh, well, possible flush, possible straight." She dealt the last pair. Ace of diamonds for him, eight of clubs for herself. "That's it. Pair of aces, possible flush. You sure you want to go through with this?"

"I'm sure." They both checked their hole cards.

"You can still back out." Sara looked him full in the face.

"I'm in. All the way." Terence turned over his hole card, the four of diamonds. "Pair of aces." Sara smiled ruefully and flipped the last card.

"King of clubs. Nothing. You win." She stood up and stretched, then leaned over to touch her toes, first one side, then the other. Terence took a long drink from the bucket of drip-water. He refilled the cup and handed it to her. She sipped hesitantly at first, then drank eagerly.

"Thanks. That's delicious. Tastes like Perrier." She handed back the cup. "If I tell them you're dead, they're going to want proof. Physical proof."

"So give the microchip. That should convince them." She shook her head.

"It's not enough. They want an identifiable portion of the corpse, ideally the right hand."

"You could tell them I was eaten by wild animals."

"There'd have to be something left, or else how would I know it was you?"

"True. Then how about if I fell down a narrow crevice, and you could see me, but couldn't get to me?"

"In that case, I'm supposed to call for a salvage crew."

"Well, don't worry, we'll think of something."

"You'd better hope so. If they give me too much trouble, I'll come back after you."

"I'll be here. Right now, just take out the chip." Terence went over to his make-shift cupboard and returned with the laser blade and a first-aid kit. Sara set the blade depth to 1/32 and its power to low. He sat cross-legged on the tarp, head bowed, and she knelt behind him. She shaved the back of his neck and swabbed it with disinfectant.

"This may not be as easy as you think," she warned him. "Sometimes these things migrate."

"Just do it." He flinched as she made the first cut. The second and third were longer and deeper. He gritted his teeth and closed his eyes and tried to think about Carmen. Her face floated in front him momentarily, then faded.

"There it is. Hold still now." Two more hot bursts, two more tiny cuts. She reached for the tweezers. "Don't move." She gripped the pea-sized implant and pulled it loose. "Got it. You can relax now." She poured disinfectant into the wound and pulled the edges together with an adhesive-tape butterfly. A sterile gauze bandage finished the job. Terence straightened up and rubbed his eyes. Sara smiled and showed him the silicone bead. He shuddered.

"Maybe you could tell them I fell down a narrow shaft and all you could get to was my head." Again she shook her head.

"They would expect me to bring the whole head."

"Bloodthirsty SOB's, aren't they?" She shrugged.

"Don't worry about it. I've been tracking escaped prisoners for over twelve years now, everything from detainees like you to rabid serial killers, and I've yet to come beck empty-handed. I'll convince them somehow." She zipped the pellet into a plastic pouch and stowed it in her side pouch. "I don't know about you, but I need to get some sleep. I've got to drive back to Madison in the morning."

Terence offered her the use of his sleeping bag, but she adamantly refused, so he fashioned a temporary bed for her from a folded tarp and a heavy overcoat, and folded a blanket on top of it. He bid her good night, turned down the lantern, and zipped himself in. Sara lay on her back, wide awake, staring at the huge beams that criss-crossed the ceiling. It wasn't the lumps in her irregular bedding that kept her from sleeping, or the occasional fits and snorts of her roommate's heavy breathing. It wasn't even the problem of convincing Central that Woods was dead. What was keeping Sara awake was the storm of confusion that raged through her mind.

Why was she letting this man go? He was a retro, a danger to society, or was he? He seemed tame enough, but that could be just an act. Would he be so docile if he were provoked? He still had her weapon. What if he killed her in her sleep? No, if he wanted to kill her, he could have done that when she first entered the mine, or any time since then. Still, he was an untreated retro. He was supposed to be locked up. It wasn't her job to judge him, it was her job to bring him in. So why didn't she? She still had a vial of verazine in her side pouch. She could pop it into his shoulder right now, cuff him, and call for backup. She had no doubt that she could find her way out without too much trouble.

So why was she lying here doing nothing while he slept so soundly just a few feet away? Because he won a hand at poker? Please! No one could seriously expect her to jeopardize her future for a handful of cards! Because she had given her word? But what was her word to a wanted man? Obviously he trusted her to keep her part of the bargain, and she'd certainly taken a giant step in that direction, but why? It certainly wasn't physical attraction. He wasn't all THAT handsome, and he was a good twenty years her senior. He was amiable and good-natured, and a good host, if you overlook the fact that hosts don't generally knock their guests unconscious as soon as they walk in the door, but what did any of that have to do with the law and her job? With these and other thoughts plaguing her mind, she tossed and turned half the night, eventually falling into a restless and troubled sleep.

She woke to the smell of fresh-brewed coffee. Terence was squatting next to the fire, stirring a pot of something beige and bubbly.

"Good morning," he smiled.

"Good morning, yourself," she responded. Then she caught sight of the bandage on his right hand. A small paper-wrapped bundle lay on the floor next to her sidepouch. She started to reach for it, but recoiled in horror. "My God," she gasped. "What the hell have you done?" He shrugged.

"No reason why you should lose your job over an old retro like me," he replied. "You show them that, they'll believe I'm dead." Sara shuddered.

"You're crazy. You are absolutely insane." He shook his head.

"I'm not crazy, just tired of trying to fit into a world where I don't belong anymore. Come on, eat your breakfast. You've got a long drive home." Sara got up, stretched, and walked over to the fire.

"What's that, hot cereal?"

"Uh hum. Sorry I don't have any instant breakfast. I mixed up a little powdered milk, though." Sara took the proffered bowl, stirred it a bit, and gingerly took a bite.

"Pretty good. I haven't had hot cereal since I was a little kid. My dad was a health nut. He always fixed it for us on cold mornings. Funny how you forget things." They finished their meal with a minimum of conversation. Sara didn't have much of an appetite, but she managed to at least finish the bowl of cereal and one cup of coffee. She gathered up the dirty dishes. "I'll wash the dishes. You'd better keep that bandage dry."

"Thanks." He disappeared down a side tunnel and returned with her weapon. "When you're ready, I'll take you back to your car."

Outside the sun was shining, though the ground was still wet from the overnight rain. Terence took a deep lungful of the fresh, cool air.

"Beautiful day for a drive," he smiled. "I almost wish I were coming with you." He laughed at her shocked expression. "I said 'almost'." Sara shook her head. She took the satphone from the dash and walked out into the open. She dialed up Central.

"Yeah, Lydia, it's me.....Sure, I'm okay.....I know. I had trouble tracking him down in the maze of tunnels of this old mine here, and then when I finally did find him, he was wedged in at the bottom of a narrow shaft. I spent the night inside and walked out this morning.....Yeah, he's dead..... Yes, it's a shame. I got the chip, though, and the confirmation.....Tell the captain I'll be in around noon..... Thanks, 'bye." She turned to Terence. "Are you sure you'll be alright here by yourself?"

"I'll be fine. You just go on home. Forget you ever saw me." She shook her head.

"THAT would be impossible." He waited while she brought the car out of the cave. "You take care of yourself," she said. "Don't let that get infected, or they'll have to amputate." He laughed at her lame joke.

"And you remember to look up once in a while."

"I will." She glided down the slope to the edge of the forest. At the bottom of the rise, she turned to wave, but there was no one there. "Goodbye," she said softly. "Be careful."

He was right, it was a beautiful day for a drive. Puffy white clouds drifted across an azure sky, and the trees were outfitted in their freshest green. Birds sang their tried and true love songs, and multicolored butterflies flutter from flower to flower. Sara tried her best to enjoy the scenery, but her thoughts kept coming back to the thing in her sidepouch. The more she tried to push it out of her mind, the more it forced its way back in. It wasn't the thing itself that bothered her, she'd carried worse before. It was the reason for it being there. The more she tried to make sense of it all, the more jumbled it became. What would drive a person to do such a thing? To turn down a simple and painless procedure for reasons of principle and remain in detention indefinitely was foolish enough, but to cut off one's finger in order to live out one's life in a cave! It made no sense at all!

When she finally got back to headquarters it was past twelve, and by the time she got her report typed up it was nearly one o'clock. Capt. Silvers was in his office. She laid the report and the package on his desk. She shivered and turned her head away as he unwrapped it and compared the print with the one in the file.

"You say he was already dead when you found him, is that right, Webster?"

"Yes, sir."

"So why just the one digit? Why not the whole hand?"

"Well, sir, the way the body was wedged into the shaft, I was lucky to get even that without going back out for a winch."

"I see. Well, good work, Webster."

"Thank you, sir." She hesitated, momentarily undecided.

"Is there something else, Webster?"

"Yes, sir. I have some vacation time coming, about four weeks worth, and I'd like to take it now, if I may."

"All of it?"

"Yes, sir, if it's not too inconvenient. I ran across some interesting territory on this assignment, and I'd like to do some serious exploring."

"I see. Well, I don't see why not. You've certainly earned some time off. Enjoy yourself, Webster."

"Thank you, sir." Sara walked out of the office and closed the door.

Sara tossed the sleeping bag onto the passenger seat of her Solavette and deleted it from the list on her palm pad. Lydia smiled and shook her head knowingly.

"I told you there was no way you were going to fit all that gear into your trunk."

"Minor miscalculation. So sue me. Now where's that fishing rod?"

"Right behind you, girl, next to the hiking boots and that hideous yellow poncho."

"It's not hideous, it's practical." Sara snapped the computer shut and slipped it into her shirt pocket. "I guess I'm ready."

"What you are is out of your mind. You've never even been to Yosemiteland in an RV, and now you're going camping out in the middle of nowhere with some guy you just met? He could be a rapist or murderer or who knows what all? You sure you didn't want me to come with you?"

Sara laughed. "So you can get raped and murdered, too? Anyway, there aren't any more rapists or murderers, We've bred them out of existence, remember?"

"Theoretically, sure, but there's always one or two that slips through the cracks. Remember that retro you went out after last week? If he can escape detention, others can, too."

Sara bristled. "He wasn't a criminal. He never harmed anyone. Anyway, he's dead now. I brought back the proof."

"One finger does not a body make. Anyhow, the point is that detention isn't escape-proof. And what about the ones who've never been caught? There are probably hundreds of undetected retros out there with forged docs, just waiting for a sweet young thing like you to come along."

Sara climbed into the diver's seat and started the engine. "Just because a person has a functioning aggression center doesn't necessarily make them dangerous. Besides, I'm not exactly helpless, you know. I'm a sworn peace officer, and perfectly capable of defending myself."

"I know, I know. Just be careful, okay?"

"I'll be fine. Don't forget, Tony gets a can of cat food every morning, and keep the dry food bowl full."

"I got it. Now go, already."

"Say hi to Jack and kiss the kids for me." "I will." Lydia waved as the car glided silently down the driveway and into the street.

Sara took a deep breath and let it out slowly. That remark about the finger had caught her by surprise. Could they possibly suspect? True, she'd never before brought back less than full verification, but Captain Silvers had accepted her explanation without argument. On the other hand, Lydia was only a dispatcher, so if she knew about it then probably everyone in retrievals knew, and they were talking about it. Even if nothing was entered into her record, that kind of gossip could undermine her credibility. She'd make damn sure she set them straight when she got back. She put a violin concerto in the CD player and pulled out onto the interstate.

Out past the suburbs the traffic thinned out to almost nothing and Sara switched from autodrive to manual. It was a bit more effort actually driving the car, but she liked the feeling of control it gave her. She pressed on the accelerator and the vehicle leaped forward. 75, 80, 85 miles per hour. An orange light flashed on the control panel. 90, 95. The light changed to red. 100 miles per hour.

"Sara, dear," a calm female voice overrode her Stravinsky solo. "You know you shouldn't be driving this fast. It just isn't safe. Imagine how your father would feel if you were to have an accident."

"My father is dead, thank you very much." Sara snapped at the heedless sentinel. "When's the last time you purged your data banks?" Nevertheless she slowed to 70. She didn't want the violation to be entered on her DMV record. She took the Forest Run exit and headed up the old mining road into the mountains.

When the dirt track finally dwindled down to nothing, she stopped to stretch her legs. She shouldn't have any trouble finding the mine entrance. Before she left headquarters last Friday he'd downloaded is last LocSat position into her palm pad and then made a couple of minor adjustments to the data in the file. If anyone went looking for him based on those entries, they'd end up a good ten miles to the north. The coordinates she had would take her right to the mine, but the real question was, would he still be there? Did he trust her to keep her word not to turn him in, or had he moved on just to be safe? She entered the calibrations from her portable into the 'Vette's AutoNav and correlated them to her current position. Almost due east. She engaged the tracdrive and moved out.

It was midafternoon when Sara arrived at her destination. She parked just outside the entrance and made a cursory exploration of the immediate area. No fresh footprints. No sign of the 4-wheeler. She walked about fifty paces into the cavern, making as much noise as possible, and called into the subterranean blackness.

"Terence, it's Sara." Her voice echoed off the rock walls and bounced down the tunnel. "I'm alone and unarmed. I just want to talk to you." She waited for a response, but none came. Not that she had really expected one. She pressed on into the tunnel, past the curve and the intersection to the spot where he had ambushed her before. She called again. Still no answer. She walked back out into the sunlight and took a long look around. The old mine was situated on the side of a steep hill, about halfway between the base and the crest. Nearby was a clear-running stream, and here and there were outcroppings of granite shot through with glistening quartz. Standing there in the stillness, she could almost hear the shouts of the miners and the clanking of the primitive machinery.

The climb up the hill wasn't a long one, but it was fairly steep, and Sara was out of breath by the time she reached the top. To her left lay an endless panorama of rolling green hills, to her right the forbidding Sierra Nevada, its permanently snow-capped peaks seemingly unclimbable . Overhead a red-tailed hawk sailed effortlessly across a cloudless blue sky, shrieking defiance at a world that gave no quarter and asked for none in return.

"Magnificent, isn't he?" His voice startled her and she whirled around, losing her footing in the loose gravel. She wound up sitting down on a patch of new grass. Terence grinned. "Don't get up on my account, please." He walked across the slope and sat down beside her, his long legs stretching out past her size seven sneakers. "You need to get yourself a good pair of hiking boots."

"Actually I did." Sara returned his smile. "They're down there in the car."

"Where I'm sure they'll serve you very well. So is this trip business or pleasure?"

"I guess in a way you could call it unfinished business. I mean, I'm not here to take you in or anything. You're officially dead. It's just that, well, I still don't understand. I thought it I could hang around a few days, maybe we could talk some more, and maybe it would start to make sense."

"I'm afraid you've come a long way for nothing, Sara. There are some things that simply can't be explained. Either you feel them or you don't. However, you're welcome to stay as long as you like. A few days out of the city might do you some good at that."

"Sara smiled ruefully. "Oh, I also brought you some penicillin from the dispensary. How's your hand?"

"Healing okay. You sure they're not tracking you?"

"No reason why they should. I'm just taking a long-overdue vacation. As long as I'm back by the twenty-eighth, that's when I'm due at the clinic for my impregnation."

"Ah, yes. The immaculate conception. You certainly don't want to be late for your big romantic moment."

Sara gave him a puzzled look. "What on earth does pregnancy have to do with romance?"

He smiled sadly and shook his head. "Nothing. Absolutely nothing."

"Then why...?" Terence raised his hand for silence and pointed down the hill to where a mother cottontail rabbit had just emerged from her burrow with five babies in tow. She moved randomly about on the ragged slope, stopping here and there to graze on the new green shoots. The procession of bunnies bounced along behind her, taking an occasional tentative bite. "Oh, how precious." Sara hardly dared whisper the words.

They watched in silence until the last one had disappeared from sight. The sun was riding low over the western foothills, and the air was getting distinctly chilly. Terence stood up and brushed himself off, then gave her a hand up.

"You'd better move your car inside the tunnel," he said. "You never know what eyes in the sky might be watching." Sara retrieved her sleeping bag and overnight case from the car and followed him down the labyrinthine corridors to his spartan living quarters.

"It looks different from what I remembered," Sara observed.

"It is. I moved everything to another section, just in case they didn't buy your story."

"But they would have come back with dogs and tracked you from the entrance."

"I haven't been using the main tunnel. There's an airshaft farther on up the hill. It's a bit of a bother, but I couldn't take any chances."

Sara set down her gear and undid her bedroll. "How did you happen to know about this place, anyway?"

"That's no big secret. There are hundreds of these old mines all over this part of the country. Anyone can find them." Terence stirred the fire and added some more wood.

"But that's just the point. You have to find them. I was only four hours behind you, and you were already settled in. You had to know exactly where you were going."

He gave her a long, searching look. "Information is always available." He set a pot of water on the grate. "Some things you're better off not knowing."

"You still don't trust me."

"It's not a matter of trust. Sometimes things just slip out. Casual conversation can be more dangerous than interrogation."

When Sara woke the next morning she was alone. A small lantern hung from a steel peg, and a long white cord stretched into the corridor, disappearing into the blackness. A square of white cardboard with a big red arrow announced "EXIT". She smiled to herself. Cute. Really cute. She had just finished dressing when Terence appeared with the rest of her baggage. He dumped his load on the rock floor.

"Is there anything at all left in your apartment?" he joked.

"Just my cat and my waterbed," she responded. "Tony gets carsick, and I had to leave him SOMETHING to sleep on. My friend Lydia's taking care of him 'til I get back."

"Too bad. He would've loved breakfast. Come on." Together they walked out to the main tunnel. Terence had prepared a small fire pit just inside the opening, and four freshly caught trout lay in the frying pan. "It's about time you learned to cook," he told her.

The next three weeks went by quickly. They spent most of their time outdoors, hiking, fishing, and swimming. He showed her how to tell the difference between the potentially deadly rattlesnake and the harmless gopher snake, and taught her which plants were edible, and which never to even touch. They talked a lot, too, about politics, about philosophy, about his past and her future. Other times they just sat in the sunshine, enjoying the sights and sounds of nature and each other's company. At night they slept in the safety of the cavern, where the temperature hardly varied from an even sixty-five degrees.

The morning of the twenty-seventh dawned appropriately cold and gloomy. A low overcast shrouded the foothills and hid the high mountains almost completely from view. Sara piled all her belongings into the 'Vette and rolled it out into the clearing.

"You don't have to go."

She turned to face him. "Yes, I do. Listen it's been absolutely great and I've really enjoyed myself, but I couldn't live like this, not permanently. I'm a city girl, remember?"

"I know." Terence lifted her chin and kissed her forehead. "Take care, you hear."

"You, too." She climbed into the car and eased it down the slope. At the bottom of the hill she turned to wave goodbye, but there was no one there. A cold wind touched the back of her neck and she shivered. She pushed the button and the car's roof closed over her head. The heater came on, but it didn't help. She turned on the radio and her favorite satellite station came in loud and clear. Vacation's over, she told herself. Time to get back to the real world. She'd never see him again, but so what? What was he to her? Just a man. She knew lots of men. They hadn't even had sex, for Pete's sake. What was that all about anyway? What kind of man lives with a woman for three weeks and never makes a pass at her? She turned the radio up loud. She didn't want to think about him. Didn't want to think at all. Back on the interstate she switched on the autodrive and took a sleeping pill. Got to stop thinking about him.

When Sara woke up she was almost home. She brushed her hair and put on fresh makeup. It was good to be back in the city. Can't beat civilization. She unlocked her apartment door and stepped inside. Nothing had changed and yet everything seemed different. Three weeks is a long time to be away from home. The cat rubbed against her legs.

"Tony, how have you been?" She scooped him up and cuddled him to her cheek. "I sure have missed you." The phone rang. It was Lydia. "Yes, I just got in.... Of course, I'm okay.... He was nice, a great companion.... No, I don't think I'll be seeing him again.... No, nothing like that. It was just a one-time thing, that's all. You know me, no commitments, no strings.... Yes, I'm going to the clinic tomorrow.... So, I'll see you next week, then.... Okay, bye."

"You missed a great picnic." Lydia set her bag on the kitchen counter and plunked herself down in the chair next to Sara. "They had a parade and everything. You really should have come."

"I had too much to do. Anyway, I'll go to the fireworks show tonight." Sara offered her friend a cold soda. "You really dig Fourth of JUly, don't you?"

"Yup." Lydia took a swig of the soda. "So how's the nursery coming along?"

"Great! I'm glad you came by, though. I could use some help with the new curtain rods. Mini-blinds are fine for a study, but my little girl deserves something a bit more elegant."

"Well, let's do it, then." The small room across the hall from Sara's bedroom had undergone a remarkable transformation. New pink throw rugs decorated the gleaming hardwood floor, and ducks and rabbits cavorted up and down the pink and cream wallpaper.

"It's this big window here." Sara gestured toward the south wall. "I have the brackets up, but I'm having trouble hooking on the rod. I can get one end or the other, but not both at the same time."

"Don't you have a ladder?" Lydia frowned. "That chair doesn't look very stable to me."

"It's fine. I've been using it all morning. Here, you're taller. You stand on the stool there and I'll hand you the rod." Lydia frowned but did as she was told.

"Be careful, girl. Be careful."

Sara climbed onto the chair and reached toward her. "Okay, give me the end and we can put both sides on at once." The sheer pink panels fluttered as the young women lifted the rod into position.

"I've got my side, how's yours?" Lydia finished first and turned to her friend.

"It's so damn tight! I can't get the point into the hole. I almost get it and then it slips." Sara turned to get a better angle, and her foot went off the edge of the chair. A moment later she was on the floor in a tangle of curtains and chair.

It was twenty minutes before the ambulance arrived, and the ride to the hospital seemed to take forever. The doctor was sympathetic but pragmatic.

"You're a young woman. There will be other babies. You're just lucky you weren't seriously hurt. A couple days rest and you'll be good as new." Sara didn't feel very lucky. She felt downright miserable. All her plans. All that waiting. And her beautiful baby. She would have been perfect. Sara just knew it. She stared at the ceiling and tried not to cry.

Lydia came by about ten the next morning. She took Sara's hand and sat down on the side of the bed.

"I know this must be awful for you. I never should have let you climb up on that damn chair."

"Don't blame yourself, Lydia. It was my own stupid fault. I should have known better. I've always been kind of a klutz."

"By the way, there's something else I have to tell you. When you were admitted yesterday the computer red-flagged your file and sent it to Security."

"My file? What on earth for?"

"Well, according to your records, you were delivered in 2019 by a Dr. Eldridge Brusweil, right?"

"Yeah, so what?"

"You know what a bootleg baby is, right?"

"Sure. We learned that in school. Some doctors in the late 'teens and early 'twenties were certifying babies as "aggression free" when they weren't."

"Well, Dr. Brusweil was one of them. He was arrested in 'twenty-three, but he destroyed all his files so they couldn't track down his patients except as they came through the system later on."

"But I've been to doctors before and nothing was ever said."

"Because you've always been to private doctors. This is the first time you've ever been admitted to a public hospital."

"Okay, but just because I was delivered by this doctor doesn't necessarily mean that I'm one of the outlaw babies."

"True, but they ran your DNA and it came back positive. And since there was no record of a mitigation procedure they did a brain scan while you were out. You're a retro, all right."

"That's impossible! I would know, wouldn't I? It has to be a mistake!"

Lydia shook her head. "Bios don't lie. You know we always DID wonder why your retrieval rate was so high. I guess now we know. Anyway, it's not a big deal. You can have the procedure done now, while you're here, and get it over with."

"But that means having all my eggs burned off. I'll be sterile!"

"Well, that's the whole idea, isn't it, to keep from passing on aggressive genes? You'll still be able to have a baby, you'll just use someone else's eggs."

"But I haven't done anything wrong," Sara protested. "I've never laid a hand on anyone except in the line of duty, and then only as a last resort."

"Come on, Sara, you of all people shouldn't be fighting this. It has to be done and you know it. If you don't have the procedure you'll lose your job, you'll get chipped and sent to detention. Then even if you do comply later, you still won't be able to get a security clearance. You'll be finished in law enforcement. Listen, I have to get back to the office. I'll stop by again after work. They'll bring the papers for you to sign a little later. Just do it, okay?" Lydia squeezed her hand and slid off the bed. She walked halfway to the door and turned. "Oh, I almost forgot. When you file was flagged, Central went back over your records. You know that Retro you went out after last April, The one where you brought back just the one finger? Well, they're sending a canine team up there tomorrow to search the area. I hope for your sake they don't find anything." She opened the door and left. An armed guard stood just outside the door.

Sara had only an hour to cry before Compliance brought the papers. She signed them. What other choice did she have?

It was a little after eight-thirty that night when a nurse materialized beside her bed with a tray of pill cups. She set the tray on the bedside stand and checked Sara's chart.

"You're Sara Webster, right?" Sara nodded. "It says here you're getting aggression therapy day after tomorrow," she observed." Is that your free choice?"

"I don't want to talk about it," Sara snapped. "Just give me my sleeping pill and leave me the hell alone."

"Actually, these are vitamin pills. I'm not a nurse, and I don't work here. I just wanted to let you know you do have another choice."

"Like what, detention?"

"No, a real life in a real community of people just like you. There are a lot more of us than anyone knows."

"Must be a pretty violent community if it's nothing but retros."

The "nurse smiled. "Not really. It's by invitation only, and we don't take anyone with a history of violence. It's just a lot of people like you and me who've been prejudged and found guilty of being human."

"So what would I do in a place like that? I'm a retrieval specialist."

"We can always use a good peace officer. We do have our share of petty crimes, burglaries and such. I think you'd be happy there."

"I'm happy here. I just wasn't prepared for something like this. It just doesn't seem right, you know?"

"I know. Anyway, you have until tomorrow afternoon to make up your mind." She took a black maker pen out of her pocket. "If you do decide to join us, just mark an "X" on the back of your left hand by two o'clock. You'll be taken care of. Good luck, whatever you choose."

"Wait a minute." Sara grabbed her arm. "I don't know if you can do anything, but there was this retro I went out after last April..."

"You mean Terence Woods? Don't worry. He's clear." Then she was gone, as quickly and silently as she had come."

"You're looking kind of ragged this morning," Lydia commented the next day. "I guess the miscarriage took a lot out of you. I'm sorry. I didn't mean that the way it sounded."

"That's okay." Sara managed a wan smile. "I know what you meant. No, I just didn't get much sleep last night, that's all."

"They gave you a pill, didn't they?"

"Yeah, but it didn't help much." Sara pulled herself up on her elbows. "Lydia, supposing I didn't have to have the procedure. What if I could just go away, some place where they wouldn't care, where everyone was like me?"

"Sara, you're talking nonsense. Even if there were such a place, who'd want to live there? You'd be in constant danger. How could you even think such a thing? Besides, what would I do without my pal? You're just tired and upset. You'll feel a lot better after tomorrow. Just like a whole new person."

Sara lay back on her pillow. "A whole new person. But that's the trouble, don't you see? I don't want to be a whole new person. I like me the way I am. Why should I have to change into someone else?"

"I'm sure you won't change all that much," Lydia reassured her. "You'll just be more calm. Less, you know, aggressive."

"Still, I wonder."

"Well, stop wondering. It's not good for you. Just relax, take it easy, and I'll see you tomorrow."

"Yeah, tomorrow."

Noontime came and with it a first-class lunch, but Sara hardly touched a bite. One o'clock. She took the marker pen out of the drawer and toyed with it, making imaginary X's up and down her arm. She knew once she did it for real there would be no turning back. IF she did it for real. But could she? Could she leave everything behind and start over? She had a good job, but the woman last night had as good as promised her a new one. She'd always been kind of a loner, so she wouldn't be leaving a lot of friends behind. Even she and Lydia weren't that close. Of course there was Tony. She hated the thought of leaving him, even though Lydia would probably take him in.

She thought about Terence. If he wasn't in the mine anymore, maybe he'd be in this new place. That'd be nice. She chewed on the pen for a few minutes. Then she took off the cap and slowly, deliberately marked an "X" on her left hand.

Two o'clock came. A two-thirty the nurse came in to take her vital signs.

"I have a cat," Sara told her.

"That's nice," the nurse answered. The doctor made his rounds at three.

"Did you know I have a cat?" Sara asked him.

"Cats make nice pets," the doctor agreed. "Good for the blood pressure." A little after four the janitor came in to empty the wastebasket.

"I have a cat," Sara told him. He looked her kind of strange but said nothing. Dinner came at five.

"I have a cat," she told the server.

"I'm allergic to cats," was the only response. The night nurse showed up a nine with her sleeping pill.

"Did you know I have a cat?" Sara was still hopeful.

"No, I didn't," the nurse smiled. "I have three, myself."

Breakfast was served at six, but Sara didn't get any. At six-thirty the nurse came to take her vitals.

"How come I didn't get any breakfast?" Sara asked.

"You're scheduled for surgery at eight. They'll get you something when you wake up. We can't have you getting sick from the anesthetic." Sara felt a little sick already. Had the message not gotten through? Why would they get her hopes up and then leave her to go through the procedure after all? Tears stung her eyes and dampened her cheeks.

"Don't cry, hon," the nurse sympathize. "I know it's tough losing a baby like that, but you're still very young. You can try again in a few months. The doctors will put you on a hormone schedule and you'll be right as rain."

Eight o'clock. They put her on a gurney and wheeled her down the halls to surgery. She didn't struggle. Didn't even cry. What good would it do? The anesthesiologist measured the pentothal into the syringe. Sara wished it were a lethal injection. It would be kinder, she thought. The needle pierced her arm and the fluid flowed into her vein.

"Count backward from ten," he said.

"Ten, nine, eight, sev..." Darkness closed over her like a soft, warm blanket.

She woke up in a bed. Not a hospital bed, a regular bed. A young nurse sat in a chair nearby reading a fashion magazine. She looked up when Sara stirred.

"Welcome back," she smiled. "How are you feeling?"

"Okay, I guess." Sara didn't feel much like smiling. "So it's over, then?"

"Pretty much. You'll stay here tonight and then tomorrow you can pick out your new apartment." The nurse got up to go. "There's some of your clothes in the closet over there. Get dressed whenever you're ready. Dinner's in half an hour. You must be starved."

"Wait a minute!" Sara started to sit up, then fell back, still a bit woozy. "What do you mean, 'my new apartment'? What's wrong with my old place?"

"Nothing, except you can't go back there. You're officially dead,you know."

"Dead? What are you talking about?"

"Yes," the nurse smiled again. "Quite unexpected, of course, but apparently you had an aneurysm that didn't show up on the scan. You were cremated immediately inn accordance with your wishes, and your ashes are being held for your next of kin."

"I don't have any family," Sara said. "Just my cat. I don't suppose..."

"Asleep over there in the corner. Seems someone broke into your apartment while you were in the hospital. They didn't take much, just some video equipment and your jewelry box." She opened the closet and showed Sara. "Unfortunately whoever it was left the window open, and the cat got out. At least that's what it says in the police report." She closed the closet and walked over to the door. "By the way, there's someone waiting in the hall to see you. Shall I send him in?"

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