Neptune Crossing (The Chaos Chronicles) (13 page)

*

Base-morning came all too soon. Bandicut awoke to a chirruping alarm-clock sound and rolled over, remembering with a shiver the dreams, and then the presence of the quarx in his mind; and for a moment, he wanted to ask, do all of your hosts die in terrible catastrophes, but before he could form the words, he fell asleep again.

The next time he awoke, it was to a brash bugle call in his head, blatting a musical reveille.

/// GOOD MAWWWNIN', TRITONNNN! ///

He groaned, pushing himself up on one elbow. "What the kr'deekin' hell?" And then he realized the source, and his vision turned red, even in the darkness of the bunk. /Charlie, what are you—/

/// It's from an old movie!

Just trying to help you start the day right! ///

/Well,
DON'T!
/ He practically screamed the words out loud.

/// Sorry...I guess I didn't— ///

/No, you didn't. I do
not
like to be awakened that way. Ever. I do not have a sense of humor in the morning./ Bandicut sank back and ran his hand through his hair, blinking in an effort to come fully awake.

/// I really didn't mean to— ///

/Never mind. Just let me wake up, okay? God, were those your memories I was dreaming?/ The dream images clung to him like cobwebs, vague but troubling.

/// Probably.

I was...dreaming...myself.

Was it...the Fffff'tink? ///

The quarx's voice was muted, and seemed sad.

He sighed, nodding, and rolled back up on one elbow. /Hell of an autobiography you could write, man./ He was answered by silence, which was perhaps just as well. For a little while, he thought, he would like to hear just one voice in his head. He yanked his privacy-curtain aside and slid down from his bunk. He made no effort to greet the others who were emerging from their cubbies, but went straight into the shower with his wash kit. By the time he came out, somewhat more awake, he saw that Krackey was up. He greeted his friend with a grunt.

"Mining ops today?" Krackey murmured sympathetically.

He nodded and shrugged on his jumpsuit. Krackey seemed to recognize his need for quiet this morning, for which he was grateful.

Not everyone else was so respectful. "Bandicoot!" called Mick Eddison, a tall, whiplike, moodily dispositioned man who worked in the deep mines. "I hear you're coming down to join us in some real hands-on work today. You going to be one of the guys for a change?"

Bandicut sighed, realizing that there was no hope of avoiding this sort of needling. "Well, Eddie—since you asked—I heard you guys weren't doing too well down there. Not enough brains, is the way Cole Jackson put it to me. So I offered to come help you out."

Eddison glared at him, but several of the others guffawed at Eddison's expense and snapped their towels at him until he shouted, "Keep that up, and I'm gonna put someone's kreekin'
head
through that wall!" That brought some thumping from the opposite side of the wall. Bandicut left to go to breakfast, shaking his head in amused exasperation.

/// Are they always so...crude? ///

Charlie wondered on the way to the cafeteria.

/Hah! Charlie, my friend, this is the working man's world,/ Bandicut answered. /We don't exactly run what you would call a highbrow operation here./

/// Apparently not.

May I ask: why do they call you Bandicoot? ///

Bandicut took his place in the food service line. /It's just a dumb nickname they gave me. It's an animal—either a rat, or a marsupial, depending on whether you're talking India or Australia. I looked it up. They're both pretty ugly critters./

/// Oh. I think I see.

Would you like me to call you Bandicoot also? ///

/Try it and you'll be one dead mokin' goak,/ Bandicut threatened cheerfully. /Bad enough I have to put up with it from these cretins. From you I expect respect./

Charlie hesitated.

/// Oh. Now I think I see. ///

Bandicut slid a plate of cultured eggs onto his tray, along with some toast and a cup of roastamoke, and looked for a quiet place to sit. He knew he wouldn't get through breakfast without more ribbing from his coworkers, but most of it turned out to be good natured. He was finally starting to feel almost good—except for a busrobot that was chittering annoyingly at him as he dumped his own breakfast tray—when Eddison walked in and asked loudly, "So whose team are they putting you on, Bandicoot? Whose equipment gets fried today?"

Bandicut handed his empty tray to the robot to shut it up. "Well, now I guess that's up to Herb, isn't it?" he said mildly. "If we're both lucky, it won't be yours."

/// Who's Herb? ///

Charlie asked, preventing him from hearing Eddison's reply over the muttering of laughter, which was probably just as well.

/Herb Massengale. The mining supervisor./

/// You don't sound happy. ///

Bandicut followed the general movement of workers down the corridor. /I think, if I had a choice, I'd rather work with Lonnie Stelnik,/ he said.

/// My.

Are all of your supervisors so unpleasant? ///

Bandicut chuckled. /Well, now, haven't you just put your finger on it. Lemme put it this way. Lonnie Stelnik's self-centered and ambitious, but at least he's no dummy. Cole Jackson's different—he's a cowardly rule-worshiper—but give him his due, he's not dumb, either. But Herb Massengale? Well, you'll see./

Charlie seemed thoughtful.

/Why so quiet, suddenly? Are you wondering why you aliens ever bothered listing humanity on the roll call of sentient species?/ he asked. When there was no answer, he added, /We
are
on the rolls, aren't we? Of sentient species?/

/// Mmm. ///

/What the hell does
that
mean? Oh, I get it—that was a joke, right?/

Charlie seemed to clear his quarxian throat.

/// Sort of.

But the truth is,

I'm wondering about the people in authority here.

Their character...well, we must take it into account,

when we make our plans. ///

/Ah./ Bandicut grunted. /I wish I could offer you more encouragement on that score./ He followed a group of men toward the ready room, but paused when he heard Gordon Kracking's voice behind him in the corridor.

"Bandie—didn't you look at the postings this morning?"

He turned around. "No, I looked last night. Why?"

Krackey caught up with him. "You're not supposed to be here. You're supposed to be upstairs for a hearing on your accident."

"You're sure?"

"Sure I'm sure. I work on the system board, don't I?"

Bandicut grinned. "Reprieve! Thanks, Krackey." He turned and started back the other way, heading for the pole up.

*

He ascended the pole with a few easy arm-over-arm pulls and stepped off on the third and top floor of the station. The briefing room was just past Cole Jackson's office, near the station commander's. He could hear Jackson's voice, and Lonnie Stelnik's. What fun, he thought. /Charlie, if they start grilling me, be ready with some good answers, all right?/

/// I'll do my best. ///

"There he is!" said Stelnik, as Bandicut walked into the cramped conference room. The station commander's administrative assistant, a thin Chinese woman named Li Chang, was there also.

"You might have let a guy know," Bandicut said, taking a seat. "As of last night, you had me slated for the mines this morning."

Cole Jackson pushed up his eyeglasses and smiled. "Don't worry, John. We'll get you right back down there. But first we'd like you to look over your report and tell us if there's anything you'd like to add or change." He pushed his glasses up his nose again and handed Bandicut a hard copy of his report.

Bandicut glanced at the paper. "Has Pacho found the problem yet?"

Stelnik snorted. Jackson answered, "Mr. Rawlins has not yet determined the cause of the malfunction, no. In fact, he admits to being rather puzzled." Jackson glanced at Stelnik as though expecting a vulgar characterization. When none was forthcoming, he continued, "Therefore, John, it's especially important that you search your memory for
anything
that could illuminate the cause of the incident. We're holding up the survey for the time being, but we can't do that forever."

Bandicut nodded, and frowned down at his report. /For a pack of lies, it looks pretty reasonable,/ he muttered to the quarx. He swallowed, trying to maintain a normal expression. "No, I wish I could help you, but I think this really about covers it," he said. /Give or take an alien or two./

/// Only one. ///

"Take your time, John. This is important."

"Well, yes, but—"

"Let me emphasize," Jackson said, with a sideways glance at Chang, who would be reporting to the station commander. "We have certain quotas to fulfill—"

"You can't put quotas on finding alien metal deposits," Bandicut pointed out.

"Perhaps not. But we have quotas on volume and tonnage to be processed, and it is
very important
that we meet those quotas," Jackson said, somewhat more sternly than was necessary. "This is not a game! We are here at enormous expense to the MINEXFO consortium, and there are important products to be developed from our findings. It is crucial that we demonstrate progress. There are consortium shareholders to satisfy, and potential competitors who might want to replace us here. I just want to make sure you understand that, John."

"I understand it," Bandicut said testily. "I'm ready to go back out as soon as you fix my rover."

Jackson sat back, pressing his hands together in front of his face. After studying Bandicut for a moment, he nodded, with another glance at Chang, who had not said a word and looked as though she did not intend to. "Very well. But we cannot do so until we are certain we have established safe working conditions." He cleared his throat noisily. "Well, then, if we might go through this report, we will try to clarify any points of confusion. Lonnie, would you like to take it from that angle?"

Stelnik's eyes glinted as he sat forward and said, "Indeed. John, tell me—with reference to your report of lost communications and navigation—what was your first indication of trouble yesterday?"

Bandicut took a breath. /What did you tell that robot?/ he whispered silently.

/// A voltage spike,

scrambling the nav settings... ///

He caught himself in the act of nodding to the quarx, and let the movement continue as a nod to Stelnik. "Well, Lonnie—I was just out of visual range of marker Wendy when I saw a fluctuation in the nav. I suspected a voltage spike. But the comm dropped out before I could call in..."

If his listeners were forming opinions, he could not discern it on their faces as he continued spinning his tale.

*

"Thank you, John. We'll be in touch as the investigation proceeds, and we'll call you back if we have further questions. You can report to mining ops now."

"Right. See you around, Cole. Lonnie."

The quarx spoke softly as he slid back down the pole to the first level.

/// What was the purpose of that meeting, John? ///

Bandicut stepped off and walked toward the ready room for the second time that morning. /Charlie, you've just witnessed modern management at its best. What you saw was a careful effort by Jackson to make sure that he and the company are covered, if any questions arise—either about safety, or productivity./

/// Uh-huh. ///

/Plus, Lonnie was probably hoping to catch me in a lie, because that would prove how sharp he is./

The quarx didn't sound happy.

/// Uh-huh. Anything else? ///

He reached the ready room. /Plus, let's give them credit. I suppose they really
were
trying to figure out what the hell happened./ He let out a long breath. /And I have to say, my quarxian friend, that the hypocrisy of all this has not escaped me. I do not feel too wonderful about having, yet again, lied through my teeth./

Charlie was silent a moment, but Bandicut could feel the mental tension building. When Charlie answered, it was in a very soft voice in the center of his consciousness.

/// I do understand, John Bandicut.

I share your ethical misgivings. ///

/You do?/

/// Yes, but I am afraid I must say, as well...

that meeting did not give me reason to feel

that we would dare entrust our secret

to those individuals. ///

Bandicut nodded, his vision clouding as he realized what the quarx was saying. They were not going to be sharing their secret with
anyone
, anytime soon. But neither could he muster any good reason to disagree.

"BANDICUT! Get the hell over here!" Herbert Massengale was standing in the doorway to his office, clipboard in hand. As Bandicut approached, Massengale glared at him. "I just got the bad news, Bandicut. You're on my team."

"So I'm told."

"Now, what the fokin' moke am I supposed to do with a nine-pin-head goak who don't even got his pins anymore?" Massengale rapped his knuckles on the clipboard in disgust.

/// What's he talking about?

What's a nine-pin-head goak? ///

/It's an, er, "affectionate" nickname for neurojackers./

/// Affectionate? ///

/Well...no. See, he doesn't neurolink himself, and he hates the guts of anyone who does./

/// That doesn't seem reasonable. ///

/What's reasonable got to do with it?/

"What are you grinnin' about?" Massengale growled. "You look like you're plugged into a mokin' computer right now. Are you gonna go zombie on me before you even start?"