Allon ben Isaac rode the little car through the long straightness of the abandoned tunnel.  He was grateful for the hardness of the floor.  He hadn't been sure that it would hold against the heaviness of the trailer that he pulled.  Even the pneumatic tires probably couldn't have held against the shocks that a bump would have caused.  Cautiously, he scouted ahead for any rock fragments which might have fallen from the ceiling.  Most of them were large enough to steer around, but the two-way, double-trough design of the tunnel didn't leave much room for maneuvering.

There was a stone too large to go around.  As he got out of the vehicle, he was momentarily grateful for the poverty of his family during his childhood.  The poorer residents of Hazera's blocky skyscraper of a living space - called Byutt Nephtali - lived either in the "upper" floors, close to rotating Hazera's center, or like his own family, in the lower floors near the outer edge of the great rotating wheel.  Housing was cheaper there, because the closer to Hazera's hub one went the lighter the centrifugal force, which was used in place of gravity.  Earth normal, One G, was in effect at Byutt Naphtali's center.  Throughout the gigantic structure, gravity varied by only about a fifth of a G.  Yet it was amazing, the difference in strength that could result in growing up on the bottom as against the top floors.  Allon doubted if an upstairsnik could have lifted the stone.  It was a large piece of slag.  He carefully hoisted it over the lip of the trough and onto the roadway for repair crews headed in the opposite direction.

Rounding a corner, he cursed to himself.  Ahead of him was the turnoff to one of the coolant pumps.  Part of the space was already occupied by one of the cars designed for use in these tunnels, its wheels stretched out at an angle, riding the curving walls of the trough like a train rode a track.  In this part of the coil section!  He'd checked and double-checked - the chances of meeting someone here during the day had to be thousands to one.  At this time of night, he'd guessed that it had to be millions to one.

Something must have gone wrong with one of the pumps.  Now, of all times!  He checked the airlock lights on the little compartment of the pump shed.  The light was throwing out a ruby glow; the airlock was cycled.  That meant that the breakdown had to do with the pump's electrical system.  The volatile coolant within the tubes could not be exposed to the air, and the pump itself had to be repaired in vacuum.

The vacuum and the softness of the fiberglass tires had prevented his approach from being noticed.  He raised his hand to the front of his helmet in perplexity.  He'd been working for the industrial interests of Nouveau Paris for close to 10 years.  He guessed that this made him a traitor.  Now a new crime would be a added to that of industrial espionae - murder - when the repairman emerged from the pressurized chamber.

Allon's name had been David...

"Deuteronomy," said his father, seating himself.  "Chapter Nineteen."

Young David ben Isaac stood in front of his father, his heart quickening.  His stomach jumped.  Why ask him to repeat something that he had learned months ago?