Well into the night we planned our escape. I convinced Hank that I could at least get us into the hanger, if not all the way to the Spacer’s ship. It was worth a chance.
When we ran out of plans, we paired. Since last form we’ve been pretending it, because I was always hesitant, and Hank was always understanding. That night I was hesitant no longer. The possibility of our escape had excited me, and I initiated the pairing. I could tell you, in intimate detail, what I felt, how I acted -- I remember each delectable second; but a girl has to have some privacy.
This morning, I know I must have gone to school. I just can’t remember anything about it. I thought only of the spaceport and our escape.
Getting into the port was no problem. The Jeffies are used to the students swapping ComServe days. We put our chops on the roster and stepped through the force membrane and into port. We did a few turns on the grunt run, in a pattern calculated to bring us by the hanger at a mech entrance.
I parked the hovercart near the showers. We were several kilosecs away from a shift-change, so it was deserted. Rows of the dull orange coveralls stood waiting for the next shift. We found two that fit and quickly put them on. I took a tub of lubricant and smeared it on our coveralls and our exposed skin so we would look like we’d been working. I was used to the smell. Hank curled up his nose and made a face. He knows how to make me laugh.
A few SecPols stood guard at the Spacer ship. Following Hank’s lead I sauntered past them with my head held high. We were proud mechanics here to do our job. We didn’t salute them or anything since grunts are mere civilians.