"Yes, ser," Florian breathed, thinking: What about Andy? What about the pigs? They said I could go to AG.And because the Super had answered and he was terribly afraid this wasthe right Assignment, he caught up with Catlin.
It was a Staging-room, like in the Game he knew. His old Super had said it was an Assignment, there would be Rooms, all of this he knew: it would be like Rooms he had done before and he would be more out of Security than AG after this.
But it was not right. He was supposed to bunk with a girl. He was put into a place she knew and he didn't. He was going to make more mistakes. They always said a Super would never refuse to talk to you, but the one back there made him afraid he was already making mistakes.
Like being late to start with.
He came into the Staging-room behind Catlin; he knew it was going to be a Security kind of Room, and he was not terribly shocked to find guns and knives on the table with the tools, but he didn't even want to touch them, and there was a queasy feeling in his stomach when Catlin picked up a gun. He grabbed pliers and a circuit-tester; Catlin took a length of fine cord and he started through the components tray, grabbing things and stuffing them into his pockets by categories.
"Electronics?" she asked.
"Yes. Military?"
"Security. You know weapons?"
"No."
"Better not have one, then. What kind are your Rooms?"
"Traps. Alarms."
Catlin's pale brows went up. She nodded, looking more friendly. "Ambushes. There's usually an Enemy. He'll kill you."
"So will traps."
"Are you good?"
He nodded. "I think so."
And he was staring again. Her face had been bothering him all along. It was like he knew her. He knew her the way you knew things from tape. Maybe she was remembering him too just then, the way she was staring. He was not completely surprised, except that it had happened at alclass="underline" tape never surprised him. He knew it was not a mistake if he knew her from tape. She was supposed to be important to him, if that was the case, the way his studies were important, and he had never thought that was supposed to happen until he was Contracted to somebody.
But she was azi. Like him.
And she knew all about her Assignment and he was new and full of mistakes.
"I think I'm supposed to know you," he said, worried.
"Same," she said.
No one had ever paidthat much attention to him. Not even Andy. And he felt shaky, to know he had run into someone tape meant for him.
"Why are we partners?" he asked.
"I don't know," she said. Then: "But electronics is useful. And you know a different Room. Come on. Tell me what you know."
"You go in," he said, trying to pull up everything, fast and all of it, the way he would do for a Super. "There's a door. There can be all kinds of traps. If you make one go off you lose. Sometimes there's noise. Sometimes the lights go out. Sometimes there's someone after you and you have to get through and rig traps. Sometimes there's an AI lock. Sometimes there's water and that's real dangerous if there's a line loose. But it's pretend, you don't really get electrocuted."
"Dead is dead," she said. "They shoot at you and they trap the doors and if you don't blow them up they'll blow you up; and sometimes all the things you said. Sometimes gas. Sometimes Ambushes. Sometimes it's outside and sometimes it's a building. Some people get killed for real. I saw one. He broke his neck."
He was shocked. And then he thought it could be him. And he thought about door traps. He took a battery and a coil of wire and a penlight, and Catlin gave him a black scarf—for your face, she said. She took a lot of other things, like face-black and cord and some things that might be weapons, but he didn't know.
"If they have gas masks in Staging it's a good idea to have one," Catlin said, "but there aren't. So they probably won't do gas, but you don't know. They aren't fair."
A bell rang.
Time was up.
"Come on," Catlin said, and the door opened and let them out with what they had.
Down a hall and through more doors. And upstairs again, until they came out in another concrete hall.
With a lot of doors.
"We're looking for 22," Catlin said.
That was two more. Catlin opened the door and let them into a plain little room with a double bunk.
"Top or bottom?" Catlin asked.
"I don't care," he said. He had never thought about a room all his own. Or even half his. There was a table and two chairs. There was a door.
"Where does that go?"
"Bathroom," Catlin said. "We share with the room next door. They're Olders. You knock before you go in. That's their Rule. If they're Olders you take their Rules."
"I'm lost," he said.
"That's all right," Catlin said, emptying her pockets onto the table. "I've been here five days. I know a lot of the Rules. The Olders are pretty patient. They tell you. But you better remember or they'll tell the Instructor and you're in trouble."
"I'll remember." He looked at her emptying her pockets and thought how his stuff was right where he wanted it. "Do we have to change clothes for the Room?"
"In the morning, always."
He emptied his pockets, but he put everything together the way he wanted it. Catlin looked at what he was doing.
"That's smart," she said. "You always know where all that stuff is."
He looked at her. She was serious. "Of course," he said.
"You're all right," she said.
"I think you must be pretty good," he said.
"They don't Get me often," she said. And pulled back the chair and sat down with her arms on the table while he was emptying his pockets. "Do they you?"
"No," he said.
She looked quite happy in her sober way. And picked up the gun and flipped up the panel on the grip and snapped it shut again. "The gun's real," she said. "But the charges aren't. You still have to check, though. Rounds can get mixed up. Once somebody's did. You always think about that. The Enemy could have mixed-up rounds. And blow you to bits. The practice rounds have a big black band. The real ones don't. But these can still kill you if you get hit close up. You have to be careful when you're working partners. More people get killed with practice rounds than anything else in training."
Catlin knew more stories about how people got killed than he had ever heard in his life. He felt his stomach upset.
But Catlin wanted to know all about the traps, all about the things he had seen. She was full of questions and with everything he said he saw her strange eyes concentrate in the way people would if they were smart and they were going to remember. So he asked about Ambushes, and she told him a lot of things she had seen.
She wassmart, he thought. She sounded like she could do the things she said. He had never planned to be in Security. He had never planned to have a girl for a partner and he never imagined anyone like Catlin. She did sort of smile. It lit up her eyes, but her mouth hardly moved. She made him so nervous he was gladder when she did that than when most people smiled wide open. A smile out of Catlin was hard to get. You had to really tell her something that impressed her. And when you got one you wanted another one because in between there was just nothing.
They went to mess, which was what they called the dining hall here. They all had to stand and wait till they could sit, and they were years younger than anyone. Most were boys, very tall, a few were girls, all of them were in their teens and everybody was on strict manners. He would have been terribly nervous if Catlin had not known when to stand and when to sit and tugged at his sleeve to cue him. But it was very good food, and as much as you wanted, and when the near-grown boys around them talked they were polite and didn't act annoyed that they were there. Who's your partner? one asked Catlin, and she said: Florian AF, ser. Like talking to a Super.