Outer Service Six looked behind her.
Barnaby saw the moment the guard’s finger reached her shoulder. Not a blow. A familiar, impatient touch directing her toward the gangway as if answering for her had completed the necessary work.
“The entry is clear,” the guard said.
The embarkation officer held the roll against the breeze.
“Move forward.”
“Which entry?” Barnaby asked.
The officer looked at him.
“Outer Service Six continues across the linked rolls as a task group. May we compare the personal name?”
