"Jumped ship in 3867--I think. It's so hard to tell what year it is on
Earth."
"And physical description?"
"He was my twin," Alan said. "Identical twin."
MacIntosh jotted down the data Alan gave him and transferred it to a
punched card. "I don't remember any spacers of that name," he said, "but
nine years is a long time. And we get so many starmen coming up here to
take out Free Status."
"You do?"
"Oh, fifteen or twenty a year, at least--and that's in this office
alone. They're forever getting stranded on leave and losing their ships.
Why, there was one boy who was robbed and beaten in the Frisco Enclave
and didn't wake up for a week. Naturally he missed his ship, and no
other starship would sign him on. He's on Free Status now, of course.
Well, let's see about Donnell Steve Male, shall we? You realize the law
doesn't require Free Status people to register with us, and so we may
not necessarily have any data on him in our computer files?"
"I realize that," Alan said tightly. He wished the chubby records-keeper
would stop talking and start looking for Steve's records. It was getting
along toward late afternoon now; he had come across from the Enclave
around noontime, and certainly it was at least 1600 by now. He was
getting hungry--and he knew he would have to start making plans for
spending the night somewhere, if he didn't go back to the Enclave.
MacIntosh pulled himself laboriously out of his big webwork cradle and
wheezed his way across the room to a computer shoot. He dropped the card
in.
"It'll take a few minutes for them to make the search," he said,
turning. He looked in both directions and went on, "Care for a drink?
Just to pass the time?"