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him. But the moment he was touched, Dean had reacted violently, kicking and
yelling, but stopping as soon as he came to and realized what he'd been doing.
"Sorry, Dad," he muttered.
"Don't worry about it, son. Been a long, long, hard day for all of us."
Krysty had collected some blankets for the boy. She followed Ryan into the
room, quickly making up a bed for Dean.
"You can take off your boots and pants," Ryan told his son. "Not many places
you can. But this is about as safe as it gets."
Dean looked at him dozily. "Can't I sleep in the same room as you?"
"No. Most nights of our lives we all have to sleep in together. Either for
security or warmth. Or both. This is somewhere we can close a door on the
world. Doc's that side of you. Me and Krysty'll be this side. And
Mildred and J.B. are one room along. You know where the can is?"
"Yeah. End of the passage on the right."
Ryan and Krysty stood and waited for the boy to get into bed, but he didn't
move.
"I'll be fine, Dad. Good night, Krysty." He paused. "You can leave me now. I'm
fine."
Krysty tugged Ryan away, giving the despondent little figure a smile and a
half wave. "Sleep well, Dean."
She closed the door and pulled Ryan with her into the next room, closing the
door behind them. "Kid wants some privacy, lover. Doesn't want me watching him
get undressed."
"Guess so. You mind watching me?"
Krysty grinned. "Wait and see."
They pushed two of the metal-framed bunks together and laid mattresses
sideways across them. The blankets and sheets were all single, so it needed
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some skill to contrive a comfortable arrangement.
Fortunately the complex was warm enough for it not to be too big a problem.
Ryan took off his clothes and stacked his weapons on the floor near the head
of the bed. Krysty kicked off her dark blue cowboy boots, the overhead light
glinting off the chiseled silver points on the toes. The rest of her clothes
followed until she stood by the bed wearing only a pale turquoise pair of
bikini panties.
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"Light off or on, lover?" she asked.
Ryan had already climbed carefully into the nest of bedclothes and he looked
up at her. "Part of me says
'on' and part says 'off.' I guess off. Save one of us having to get up
afterward."
She nodded and walked to the main light switch, conscious of his gaze on her.
She deliberately sashayed her hips as she moved, turning and placing one arm
coyly across her breasts, blowing him a toss as she plunged the room into
total darkness.
Ryan heard her bare feet, then felt the mattresses dip as she climbed quickly
in beside him. For a moment there was a stretched stillness, then Krysty
shifted closer, her knee brushing against his thigh.
"Hi, lover," she whispered. "Been a long time since we had this sort of
luxury."
"Can't remember when." He eased his body against hers, his hand reaching for
her.
"Too long." Her fingers found him, feathering across the flat wall of his
stomach, grasping him with a gentle firmness.
He rolled on his side, closer, lips brushing the skin of her throat, kissing
her softly. Krysty moaned as his right hand delved between her thighs,
bringing her to instant arousal.
"Love you so much," she whispered, her breath quickening, brushing the short
hairs on the side of Ryan's neck.
"Me you, too," he said.
"Let's do it, lover."
RYAN ROSE FIRST. He climbed silently into his clothes, carrying his heavy-duty
combat boots outside so he wouldn't disturb Krysty.
The air in the corridor still held the scents of last night's supper,
confirming his suspicion that the conditioning was on the blink. He walked
into the kitchen and switched on a pan of water, intending to use it to brew
up a hot drink and to shave.
A sound behind him made him whirl, to see J.B. grinning at him. The Armorer
was wiping his glasses on the sleeve of his shirt.
"Getting jumpy, friend?"
"Better to be jumpy"
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"Than asleep," finished the slight figure. It had been one of the Trader's
favorite sayings.
"Want some coffee-sub?"
"Sure. Krysty asleep?"
Ryan nodded. "Yeah. Mildred?"
"Was when I left her. How about the boy? Didn't hear him in the night."
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Steam billowed as Ryan poured out the boiling water, the harsh smell of the
drink filling the kitchen. He passed one of the mugs to J.B.
"Didn't hear a sound. Oh, yeah, I heard Doc coughing his way to the pisser.
Once or twice." He took a great gulp from the hot, brown liquid. "Fire-blast!
This is damned good coffee-sub!"
"What're your plans for the boy, Ryan?"
The one-eyed man sighed. "Only knew about him a couple of days ago. Spend all
my life thinking one thing, then I'm a father. Boy of ten. By a woman I knew
for less than a week. Haven't seen for over ten years. Thought was dead. Is
dead. Now" He shook his head. "I don't know, J.B., and that's the honest
truth. What do you think?"
"Trader used to say you never went out on the highway with either animals or
young children."
Ryan sipped at his coffee-sub. "Sure. One thing I was wondering"
"Jak Lauren?"
"That's right." He was startled at the way the Armorer had thought along the
same lines. "If we can get him down there. Long way. But he'd be safe."
" Safe , Ryan?"
The kitchen was silent. Ryan was trying to run some alternative plays through
his mind. From what he'd already seen of Dean, there didn't seem any doubt
that he was an amazingly tough and self-sufficient ten-
year-old boy.
But he was a ten-year-old boy.
"NEW CLOTHES!" Mildred exclaimed. "I can't fucking believe it. Oh, pardon my
French! But I'd forgotten that such things existed."
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"Be a good idea if everyone got fixed up, best as they can." Ryan looked along
the shelves at the shrink-
wrapped, sealed packs of equipment. The stores were controlled for temperature
and humidity, and everything looked to be in fine shape.
"Changing rooms out back here," J.B. called. "Must've known we were coming.
There's six of them."
Ryan beckoned to Dean, ticking items off on his fingers. "Combat boots. Tight
but not too tight. All-
weather combat top and pants. T-shirt and underclothes. Good socks. Put those
on before you try the boots. Shirt. Cotton, with pockets. Nothing in bright
colors. Some kind of hat."
"Don't like hats."
"Get something, anyway. When you've got everything ready, come show me. All
right?"
"What about a blaster?" '
"Clothes first."
"All right, Dad."
Everyone eventually managed to make some changes to their wardrobes.
Some things altered, some things remained the same.
Doc agreed to get fresh underclothes and a new white shirt, but he clung to
the old-fashioned frock coat and antiquated breeches, as well as the cracked [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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