Clear, clean light streamed in through the window. It was too nice a sky for anything evil to happen under it. He washed at the sink in his room and dressed. He hid his rifle between the mattress and the frame of the bed and strapped the Civiliser to his side. This place was supposed to be safe, but there was no point taking chances. On the landing he met Carveth. She was in her pyjamas, woolly slippers and dressing gown, and did not look like a key player in the struggle against alien tyranny. ‘Ugh, Boss,’ she muttered as she closed the bathroom door. ‘Morning, Carveth. Bad night?’ ‘I had that nightmare about the electric sheep again. Hardly slept.’ ‘Well, best get ready. Today is the day we start the war against Gertie.’ ‘If I knew there was a war I’d’ve had a lie-in,’ she said weakly, and she stomped off up the corridor, toothbrush in hand. Smith went downstairs. The rear of the building was cramped and scruffy, cluttered with equipment for the bar at the front.
