"If you get lost," she continued, hitting a command so that a list of icons came up, and pointing to an icon that looked like a computer, "look for this symbol. That's an info-access terminal. You can query one as to your location and how to get to just about anywhere in the Urb. You also can ask for a 'sprite,' which is a Galactic supplied micrite. It's about the size of a fly and glows. It will leave and take the shortest primary route to your destination. Follow it. It will stop if you stop and leave when you reach your destination."
She gestured to the rest of the icons. "There's other symbols you need to get to know. There's symbols for security, bathrooms, cafeterias and stuff like that. Most of them are sort of self-explanatory, but you need to get familiar with them.
"You are permitted to leave the Sub-Urb, but it is strongly discouraged and no unauthorized personnel are permitted into the Urb and no military personnel are permitted unless they have written orders or are on hospital status and assigned . . . like you."
"You' gi' 'is for," Elgars said.
"Yes, I've given this lecture a few times," Wendy said with a grim smile. "I've been in this fucker since it was just a giant echoing hole." She thought about it for a moment. "That's all you really need to know for now. There's some minimal emergency information you should get familiar with, but it's available on channel 141. I'd recommend watching that fairly religiously for a couple of weeks; there's all sorts of tips to getting around. Any major questions for now?"
Elgars shook her head and went over to the other locker to get a bra. The locker had a chest of drawers in it and several sets of civilian clothes, mostly blue jeans and dresses. On the right hand side was a shoe rack with one pair of running shoes, two sets of shined combat boots and nine pairs of high heeled shoes, most of them black. The only thing that showed any sign of use was the running shoes.
"Man," Wendy breathed. "You've got enough clothes for five people down here."
Elgars made a questioning sound in her throat and Wendy shrugged.
"There aren't any clothes getting made these days; all the mills make stuff for the Army. So whatever people brought, and most of 'em only brought a suitcase or two, that's what they had to wear." Wendy gestured at her own outfit of a dungaree type shirt and slightly oversized jeans. "They make a few things to keep people dressed and shoes, but none of it is 'fun clothes.' You've got more dresses than I've seen in three years."
Elgars looked at them then at Wendy. They seemed to be about the same size so the captain gestured. "Yuuuh . . . waaa . . . ?"
The blonde dimpled prettily and pushed the air off her right ear. "Not now. Maybe some other time if I can borrow something that'd be great."
Elgars reached into the locker and pulled out one of the dresses. It was a violet wrap, consisting of multiple layers of lace in a variety of shades. She looked at it with distaste for a moment then thrust it at Wendy. "Take."
"Are you sure?" Wendy asked. The dress was beautiful.
"Suuurre." Elgars' face worked for a moment as if she was going to spit. "Ah don't lahk purple," she continued in a soft southern accent. There was no trace of a lisp.
* * *
Elgars looked around with interest. The corridors were wide—wide enough to slip a car through with difficulty—and high. And they seemed to go on forever. Every fifty meters there was a set of stairs and every hundred meters there was an escalator flanked by an elevator. At each such intersection there was another emergency pack, but unlike the one in her room, most of these were hanging open and empty. The plastic walls changed color, but all were calming pastels. The tones were pleasant, though, not institutional in any way. Occasionally there were walls of what looked like stone but with a smooth look as if it had been extruded or melted.
Overhead there were regular sprinklers and innumerable pipes with cryptic markings like "PSLA81." At intervals the one of the pipes that was marked with a red and blue pattern would have an extension downward to a double headed ending. Since it was valved and capped, Elgars imagined that it was probably designed to supply emergency water for some purpose.
The main corridors were open but there were memory-plastic doors on either side, some of them marked and others not. Most of the ones that they passed seemed to be residences although a few were marked with names like "The Cincinnati Room." At intervals in the main corridors there were open doors with control panels on both sides. These were heavier and seemed to be designed to close in the event of an emergency.
At every set of stairs or escalator was a sign: "Primary evacuation route" with an arrow up, down or pointing into the corridor. Flanking it was another: "Secondary evacuation route" pointing in a different direction. In addition to the emergency signs there were signs with some of the icons that Wendy had pointed out. Elgars was fairly sure she could figure out the bathroom and the cafeteria signs. But what was the one with three things that looked like feathers?
As Wendy had pointed out, there were regular markings on the walls, a letter followed by three numbers. In their perambulations they had proceeded out of Sector F and into B. It seemed to Elgars that they were taking a very roundabout route; they seemed to be staying in personnel quarters corridors and away from the main thoroughfares.
Most of the residential corridors were narrow, no more than two persons wide, and showed signs of wear. In one area most of the glow-paint had been damaged, leaving long sections of near total darkness. Wendy didn't stop but Elgars noticed that she seemed to be much more cautious in her movements, slowing as she approached intersections as if to listen for other footsteps, and the few people that they passed seemed to avoid eye-contact.
"This is the older section," Wendy said quietly as they were headed down a secondary corridor. This one had scorch marks on the walls as if a fire had once raged through the area and the damage was never completely repaired. "I was here when this corridor was as new and shiny as your room. But it's near a maintenance section now and . . . well . . . it's sort of a bad neighborhood. On the other hand, the security pantywaists don't like it much, so I don't think we have to worry about them."
What they did have to worry about became evident as they came to a residential intersection. In the better sections there was a slight widening of the corridors at the intersection, a water fountain and signs to the significant support facilities in the area. Two of the three corridors leading to this spot had had their glow-paint almost entirely stripped away and the water fountain had been ripped out of the wall and was sitting in a pool of rusty water.
As Wendy stepped cautiously into the shadows along one wall, there was the rasp of a match and a group of figures emerged from one of the darkened corridors.
"Well, whatta we got here?" the leader asked, lighting her cigarette. The girl was below normal height and unhealthily skinny. Her face had been badly tattooed with a figure that was probably a spider and her hair was pulled up in patches that had been dyed a variety of colors. She was wearing heavy boots, short shorts and a midriff top. Elgars would have laughed at the combination if it wasn't for the aluminum baseball bat she was swinging in one hand.
"I think we've got trespassers," giggled another. This one was above average height and heavyset with wide hips and pendulous breasts. The two would have made a comical couple were it not for the weapons in their hands.
"Whatcha got in the bag, cutey," the leader said as the other three started to spread out.