shed metallic shed.

"Where are we? Where are you taking me?"

"This is the spaceport. Now shut up."

"Let me go."

"No."

"I'm not dead," Nancy insisted. "You know I'm not dead. I won't press
charges against you--just let me go free."

"I told you it wasn't that simple. He wants them to think you're dead,
and that's what they'll think."

Nancy passed fingers across her eyes. "Who? Who are you talking about?"

"Doc Candle. He won't let them know you're alive."

Nancy rubbed her forehead with both hands. "Sam, you don't know what
you're doing. You don't--know what you're getting yourself into. Just
let me show myself to someone. They'll know I'm not dead. Really they
will."

"Okay," he said. "Let's find somebody."

He led her toward a more nearly completed building, showing rectangles
of light. They looked through the windows to see several men in uniforms
bending over blueprints on a desk jury-rigged of sawhorses and planks.

"Sam," Nancy said, "one of those men is Terry Elston. He's a Waraxe boy.
I went to school with him. He'll know me. Let's go in...."

"No," Collins said. "We don't go in."

"But--" Nancy started to protest, but stopped. "Wait. He's coming out."

Collins slid along the wall and stood behind the door. "Tell him who you
are when he comes out. I'll stay here."

They waited. After a few seconds, the door opened.

Nancy stepped into the rectangle of light thrown on the concrete from
the window.

"Terry," she said. "Terry, it's me--Nancy Comstock."

The blue-jawed young man in uniform frowned. "Who did you say you were?
Have you got clearance from this area?"

"It's me, Terry. Nancy. Nancy Comstock."

Terry Elston stepped front and center. "That's not a very good joke. I
knew Nancy. Hell of a way to die, killed by some maniac."

"Terry, _I'm_ Nancy. Don't you recognize me?"

Elston squinted. "You look familiar. You look a little like Nancy. But
you can't be her, because she's dead."

"I'm here, and I tell you I'm _not_ dead."

"Nancy's dead," Elston repeated mechanically. "Say, what are you trying
to pull?"

"Terry, behind you. A maniac!"

"Sure," Elston said. "Sure. There's a maniac _behind_ me."

Collins stepped forward and hit Elston behind the ear. He fell silently.

Nancy stared down at him.

"He refused to recognize me. He acted like I was crazy, pretending to be
Nancy Comstock."

"Come on along," Collins urged. "They'll probably shoot us on sight as
trespasse