Kinsman put his cup down on the phone terminal next to the couch. Colt did the same.
"Frank, you really shouldn't clobber kids like Kelly the way you did."
"Hey, he jumped me!"
"I know. He's scared. He's got a wife and kids sitting next to a SAC base."
"So whattaya want me to do, turn the other cheek?"
Grinning, "That'll be the day."
Colt spread his hands. "Look, Chet, I'll try to go easy on these peaceniks you got up here. But I've got a job to do and I'm gonna get it done. If it takes splitting heads or bruising delicate egos, I can't help it. This base has gotta be prepared against an attack."
"I know," Kinsman admitted. "But just don't go out of your way to batter people. Most of them aren't in your league. It's unfair to sock 'em so hard."
"Yassuh," Colt joked. Or maybe it was only half joking. He got up from the couch and started shuffling, stooped over, toward the door. "Us colored folks know our place, massah. Don't want to make no trouble, no how."
"Go to hell," Kinsman said, laughing.
"See ya," Colt said at the door.
"Can you find your way back to your quarters okay?"
"Blindfolded."
"Good night, Frank."
As soon as Colt shut the door behind him, Kinsman leaned over and touched the ON button of the phone terminal. The screen lit up but showed no picture.
"Pat Ketly, please."
For a moment the phone hummed to itself, then the computer's synthesized voice said, "Not in quarters."
"Find him."
It took several minutes before Kelly's face appeared on the screen. He still looked tight-lipped, tense. Behind him, Kinsman saw a stenciled sign on the wall identifying his location as corridor C, area twenty.
"Taking a walk?" Kinsman asked.
