"Wait." Nasha bent down, touching a concrete stone. "There's something inscribed on this."
"What is it?" Tance hurried up. He squatted in the dust, running his gloved fingers over the surface of the stone. "Letters, all right." He took a writing stick from the pocket of his pressure suit and copied the inscription on a bit of paper. Dorle glanced over his shoulder. The inscription was:
FRANKLIN APARTMENTS
"That's this city," Nasha said softly. "That was its name."
Tance put the paper in his pocket and they went on. After a time Dorle said, "Nasha, you know, I think we're being watched. But don't look around."
The woman stiffened. "Oh? Why do you say that? Did you see something?"
"No. I can feel it, though. Don't you?"
Nasha smiled a little. "I feel nothing, but perhaps I'm more used to being stared at." She turned her head slightly. "Oh!"
Dorle reached for his hand weapon. "What is it? What do you see?" Tance had stopped dead in his tracks, his mouth half open.
"The gun," Nasha said. "It's the gun."