Inmate Sue-Ann Bradley cried: "They're coming! O'Leary, they're coming!"
The guards who had once been hostages clattered down the steps to meet the party. The cons from the Greensleeves were back in their cells. The medic, after finishing his chores on O'Leary himself, paced meditatively out into the wake of the riot, where there was plenty to keep him busy. A faintly guilty expression tinctured his carven face. Contrary to his oath to care for all humanity in anguish, he had not liked Lafon or Sauer.
The party of fresh guards appeared and efficiently began re-locking the cells of the Greensleeves.
"Excuse me, Cap'n," said one, taking Sue-Ann Bradley by the arm. "I'll just put this one back—"
"I'll take care of her," said Liam O'Leary. He looked at her sideways as he rubbed the bruises on his face.
The governor tapped him on the shoulder. "Come along," he said, looking so proud of himself, so pleased. "Let's go out in the yard for a breath of fresh air." He smiled contentedly at Sue-Ann Bradley. "You, too."
O'Leary protested instinctively: "But she's an inmate!"
"And I'm a governor. Come along."
They walked out into the yard. The air was fresh, all right. A handful of cons, double-guarded by sleepy and irritable men from the day shift, were hosing down the rubble on the cobblestones. The yard was a mess, but it was quiet now. The helicopters were still riding their picket line, glowing softly in the early light that promised sunrise.
"My car," the governor said quietly to a state policeman who appeared from nowhere. The trooper snapped a salute and trotted away.