least two men—that's why I'm paying you level-eight. Other than that, frankly, you aren't worth much to us. Take it or don't; it's up to you.'
'Thanks, but no go,' Jonny gritted out.
'Okay.' Grange took out a card and scribbled on it. 'Take this to the main office in Cedar Lake and they'll give you your pay. And come back if you change your mind.'
Jonny took the card and left, trying to ignore the hundred pairs of eyes he could feel boring into his back.
The house was deserted when he arrived home, a condition for which he was grateful. He'd had time to cool down during the drive and now just wanted some time to be alone. As a Cobra he'd been unused to flat-out failure; if the Trofts foiled an attack he had simply to fall back and try a new assault. But the rules here were different, and he wasn't readjusting to them as quickly as he'd expected to.
Nevertheless, he was a long way yet from defeat. Punching up last night's newssheet, he turned to the employment section. Most of the jobs being offered were level-ten laborer types, but there was a fair sprinkling of the more professional sort that he was looking for. Settling himself comfortably in front of the plate, he picked up the pad and stylus always kept by the phone and began to make notes.
His final list of prospects covered nearly two pages, and he spent most of the rest of the afternoon making phone calls. It was a sobering and frustrating experience; and in the end he found himself with only two interviews, both for the following morning.
By then it was nearly dinner time. Stuffing the pages of notes into a pocket, he headed for the kitchen to offer his mother a hand with the cooking.
Irena smiled at him as he entered. 'Any luck with the job hunt?' she asked.
'A little,' he told her. She had arrived home some hours earlier and had already heard a capsule summary of his morning with the road crew. 'I've got two interviews tomorrow—Svetlanov Electronics and Outworld Mining. And I'm lucky to get even that many.'
She patted his arm. 'You'll find something. Don't worry.' A sound outside made her glance out the window. 'Your father and Jame are home. Oh, and there's someone with them.'
Jonny looked out. A second car had pulled to the curb behind Pearce and Jame. As he watched, a tall, somewhat paunchy man got out and joined the other two in walking toward the house. 'He looks familiar, Momer, but I can't place him.'
'That's Teague Stillman, the mayor,' she identified him, sounding surprised. 'I wonder why he's here.' Whipping off her apron, she dried her hands and hurried into the living room. Jonny followed more slowly, unconsciously taking up a back-up position across the living room from the front door.
The door opened just as Irena reached it. 'Hi, Honey,' Pearce greeted his wife as the three men entered. 'Teague stopped by the shop just as we were closing up and I invited him to come over for a few minutes.'
'How nice,' Irena said in her best hostess voice. 'It's been a long time since we've seen you, Teague. How is Sharene?'
'She's fine, Irena,' Stillman said, 'although she says
'Yes, I am,' Jonny said, coming forward. 'Congratulations on winning your election last year, Mr. Stillman. I'm afraid I didn't make it to the polls.'
Stillman laughed and reached out his hand to grasp Jonny's briefly. He seemed relaxed and friendly... and yet, right around the eyes, Jonny could see a touch of the caution that he'd seen in the road workers. 'I'd have sent you an absentee ballot if I'd known exactly where you were,' the mayor joked. 'Welcome home, Jonny.'
'Thank you, sir.'
'Shall we sit down?' Irena suggested.
They moved into the living room proper, Stillman and the Moreau parents exchanging small talk all the while. Jame had yet to say a word, Jonny noted, and the younger boy took a seat in a corner, away from the others.
'The reason I wanted to talk to you, Jonny,' Stillman said when they were all settled, 'was that the city council and I would like to have a sort of 'welcome home' ceremony for you in the park next week. Nothing too spectacular, really; just a short parade through town, followed by a couple of speeches—you don't have to make one if you don't want to—and then some fireworks and perhaps a torchlight procession. What do you think?'
Jonny hesitated, but there was no way to say this diplomatically. 'Thanks, but I really don't want you to do that.'
Pearce's proud smile vanished. 'What do you mean, Jonny? Why not?'
'Because I don't want to get up in front of a whole bunch of people and get cheered at. It's embarrassing and —well, it's embarrassing. I don't want any fuss made over me.'
'Jonny, the town wants to honor you for what you did,' Stillman said soothingly, as if afraid Jonny was becoming angry.
That thought was irritating. 'The greatest honor it could give me would be to stop treating me like a freak,' he retorted.
'Son—' Pearce began warningly.
'Dader, if Jonny doesn't want any official hoopla, it seems to me the subject is closed,' Jame spoke up unexpectedly from his corner. 'Unless you all plan to chain him to the speakers' platform.'
There was a moment of uncomfortable silence. Then Stillman shifted in his seat. 'Well, if Jonny doesn't want this, there's no reason to discuss it further.' He stood up, the others quickly following suit. 'I really ought to get home now.'
'Give Sharene our best,' Irena said.
'I will,' Stillman nodded. 'We'll have to try and get together soon. Good-bye, all; and once more, welcome home, Jonny.'
