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Updated: June 11, 2025
The transparent plastic of the coveralls went on easily enough, and his hands found the seals quickly. He slipped his few possessions into a bag at his belt, slid the knife into a spring holster above his wrist, and picked up the bowl-shaped helmet.
Not too long after she managed to make herself presentable, four warriors wearing Alanna arms on their drab coveralls and more heavily armed than usual for peacetime entered her room. She bowed to them, acutely conscious of the scab forming on her cheek. They didn't return the courtesy, of course; instead, two of them secured her arms behind her back.
Domber's face was red and his mouth was screwed into a snarl. Suddenly Stan felt sorry for Swen. He nodded to Hans as he climbed up. Looking down he saw the mechanics with their bulging coveralls crowding in close. Several of them had ripped their suits open and had their hands inside. Stan eased back against the shock pad. The left brake was the one to kick down hard.
He was so used to being snapped at that he reacted without thought. Stan laughed. "You jump like monkeys when they yell at you, don't you?" he said. "Pig," Hans muttered under his breath. Stan went to work again. At twelve o'clock he took off his coveralls and slipped several parts into his coat pocket. "Tell the boss I'm ready to go to bed," he said.
They gave them replacements for all the things that had been taken away from them. They gave the man a one-piece suit of Marine combat coveralls; Lillian gave the woman a lavender bathrobe, and Anna contributed a red scarf. They found them quarters in one end of a store shed, after making sure that there was nothing they could get at that would hurt them or that they could damage.
They use the stuff to treat fabric for protective garments. It isn't anything like collapsium, of course, but a suit of waxed coveralls weighing only a couple of pounds will stop as much radiation as half an inch of lead. Back when they were getting fifteen hundred a ton, the hunters had been making good money, but that was before Steve Ravick's time. It was slightly before mine, too.
The poison story had been a gag to make him think he had outwitted Domber. He climbed out of the cockpit and walked over to Hans. "We'll hit her again," he said. Turning back he noted that several of the mechanics had moved in close. A quick glance showed bulges under their coveralls which looked a lot like army pistols or automatics. The water boy moved toward Stan.
"Don't be crazy, mister! They " He turned, saw it was Gordon, and his face turned blank. "It's your life, buster," he said, and reached for the brake. "I'll give you five minutes to get into coveralls and helmet and out through the airlock." Gordon needed less than that; he'd practiced all the way from Earth.
A large, plump-faced, young man in soiled khaki shirt and shorts, with extremely hairy legs, was doodling on his notepad and eating candy out of a bag. And a black-haired girl in a suit of coveralls three sizes too big for her, and, apparently, not much of anything else, lounged with one knee hooked over her chair-arm, staring into the screen at the distant horizon.
Most wore white coveralls, though two were dressed in simple business suits. Hanson moved forward purposefully, acting as if he had urgent business. If he stopped, there would be questions, he suspected; he wanted to find answers, not to answer idle questions. There was no one at the desk in the little reception alcove, but he heard the sound of voices through a side door leading out.
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