No Sons Left to Die!
stopped trembling, held herself rigid. Long ago she had learned not to cry. There was no excuse for breaking a rule. Her mother had once told her that things had not always been this way; that if everyone worked hard enough things would soon be again as they were in that bright and free past. To break a single rule was to commit a crime against everyone on the planet and delay that bright future. She waited.

"You're working dayshift in the factory?"

She nodded.

"How many hours??"

"Twelve."

"If you want to make a complaint you have to take it to the Council."

A man who looked older than the others advanced. On his shoulder was the emblem of the crossed pens, indicating he was an instructor. He glared around at the others. "You know better," he said, "than to sneak a girl in here."

Somebody chuckled. "She was on the compound. Did you want her to be discovered and maybe get permanent restriction? We'll get her out safe somehow."

The instructor turned back to Susan. "You'll have to keep mum at the factory," he warned. "A single word and you'll have the Council on our necks."

"But I have to find someone," she said. "From Firelance."

"Oh!" Glum looks spread.

"His name is Darth Brady," she went on quickly. "He trained here. He went out three years ago."

"Darth Brady!" somebody said. "That gibbering cripple—"

"Quiet!" ordered the instructor. "The next man that mentions a forbidden subject will go before the Council." He turned back to Susan. "We must get you back to your place."

"But I have to find Darth Brady."

The men turned away, shook their heads. Susan felt a cold numbness growing in her body and limbs.

"You, Carson," the instructor ordered, "get passes for yourself, Merritt and Saxon. I'll issue the order via wrist communicator. Get two groundcars. Wait in them outside the compound. You others form a ring about this girl. What's your name, girl?"


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