*
Crawler Three was powering up as he reached the docking bay. He yelled to Bronson, hanging off the stern ladder. “Hold up!”
Bronson waved him away. “Go see Massengale!” he called, his voice scratchy through the comm. “You’ve been reassigned!”
Bandicut peered up at the crawler boss. “What? Why?”
Bronson’s grinning eyes were just visible behind his visor. “I dunno. Prob’ly didn’t like you learnin’ your job here so fast. Hell, he’s prob’ly disappointed you didn’t fall off an’ kill your damn self.”
“Yeah,” Bandicut muttered. “Okay, see you around.” Scowling, he turned back toward the airlock.
“Hey, Bandicoot.”
He swiveled back. “Yeah?”
Bronson’s grin was wide. “You did okay here, for an outa work survey jock. Take it easy, y’hear?” He waved and clambered up the ladder to the top of the crawler. Bandicut stared after him for a moment, then shook his head and walked at a leisurely pace back toward the ready room.
/// Is this what you would term
. . . a setback? ///
the quarx asked.
He shrugged. /Damn near everything I’ve been doing has been a setback, if you’re talking about our “mission.” Do you remember the last few days of work—what we’ve been doing? Charlie seemed to think he was learning something from it, though I’ll be joogered if I know what./
/// I remember those days . . .
only vaguely. ///
/Well, do you remember Herb Massengale?/
/// Um . . .
wasn’t he . . . some kind of . . . asshole?
Is that the correct word? ///
Bandicut laughed out loud and punched the airlock control. /Okay, Charlie! There is some of you in there, after all!/ He stepped into the pressurized room. Before unsuiting, he plugged his helmet comm into a wall jack and paged Herb Massengale.
The voice that answered was flat and unpleasant. “That you, Bandicut?”
“Yeah, it’s me. I’m in the ready room. Bronson said you wanted to talk to me.”
“Get out of your suit and come to my office.”
“Why didn’t you tell me before I got suited up?”
“When you’re in charge, you can ask the questions.”
“I see.” Jerk. “I’ll be there in a little while.”
“Make it snappy, Bandicut.”
/// This man doesn’t like you,
does he? ///
Charlie noted in a concerned tone.
He didn’t bother to answer, but yanked his comm plug out of the wall jack and started unzipping his pressure suit.
/// I suspect that he’s . . . baiting you.
Is that it? ///
Bandicut nodded silently, darkly. He had a feeling that he knew what Massengale had in mind for him. And he was going to like it even less than the crawlers.
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