Quoted By:
“SILENCE! Regardless of who was at fault, and I bloody know damn well who’s responsible, all of you played your roles out to this spectacular conclusion. Nobody is going to escape punishment for this gross display of tomfoolery. Warren!”
The security chief stands to attention. “Yes, sir?”
McGuire gestures to Shannon and McDonald, leveling a steely glare in their direction. “Throw these amoebae in the brig. Ten days should be enough for the alcohol to leave their systems and return them to higher-functioning mammals.”
Shannon looks like he might try to protest, but McDonald elbows him in the ribs before he can get them in any further trouble. Dumb and Dumber opt to remain silent as they’re manhandled and hauled away by the security team. Your face betrays nothing as they disappear out the door. The last thing you want to do is set McGuire even more off with even the ghost of a smirk.
He’s still pretty steamed though, eyes blazing as the full brunt of his attention reaches you. “Silneq Unami. Why is it that whenever something happens, I can always find you at the center of attention?”
Well, that’s hardly fair. Once, for your unexpected transfer so many years ago, and then every so often for report delivery and meetings with your debt-liaison. Other than that, you stayed out of sight, out of mind….right up until the diving bell kerfuffle. To think, that was only three days ago. And you got to sit in a real leather couch!
But you wisely keep your mouth shut, and don’t refute that claim. If anything, the only thing you’re concerned about are the thirty-thousand ducats that Pierce owes you. Not that you’re about to bring that up in front of the rig manager.
McGuire grimaces, collapsing into his seat, and snaps his fingers. One of the guards approaches you, and undoes the bindings shackling you to the table. Your make no sudden movements, keeping your hands in sight as you rub at the places where the cuffs bit into your wrists.
“If not for Larkin vouching on your behalf,” he says brusquely, “You’d be joining them in the brig. But I would think that you would know better. You’re a PUEXO pilot, indentured servitude non-withstanding.”
Indentured servitude. Babylonia’s polite term for the institution of debt-slavery. Mostly because they don’t want to sound even remotely anything like what the Toghril Khanate practices.
But, you digress. You do know better than to get in fights that jeopardize your life. But every man has his limits. And you aren’t nearly about to let some puffed-up digger try and extort you for money that you don’t even have. Most of all, he sure as fuck doesn’t deserve.
“Permission to speak freely, sir,” you politely ask.
“Denied,” he refuses flatly. “It’s your first strike on an otherwise unblemished record, one that I'm willing to overlook in light of your prior performance. Do not fuck yourself by trying to smooth-talk your way out of this.”
(cont.)
