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Like Pekk from Monitoring, Gresh was an ysok - a short-statured, rodent-like race that could probably be found on every inhabited world at this point. Unlike Pekk, who managed to land a desk job, Gresh has made a career within the least known and certainly underappreciated division of ProfSec: Pest Control.
"Must've chased that damned <span class="mu-i">skritti</span> across three or four nodes," he tells you excitedly as he sprays solvent onto the foam and bags the corpse. It kept staying a turn or two ahead of me the whole time - couldn't get a clean shot. Until it ran into you, I guess. And now my legs hurt and I've worked up an appetite," he flashes you a toothy smile. "So, dunno how long it's been for your shift, but... wanna do early lunch?"
A few minutes later you're both settling down in a slightly wider section of the tunnel, with just enough room to comfortably stretch out your legs.
"Do you always carry lunch for two?" you ask as Gresh hands you a wrapped, slightly soggy package from his pack and then grabs a second for himself. "Oh damn, is this from that kreygo place you showed me once?"
"Darn right it is. Still the best darned roast protein on the station. They were having a buy one, get one for half special, so I figured I'll pick up dinner as well."
"Shit, let me pay you back then."
Gresh waves you off.
"It'll be your treat next time. Anyway, how have you been, Elne? I keep meaning to call and catch up, but you know... stuff happens."
"Mmm," you nod, already biting into the thick, oily, vat-grown krego meat sandwich. Not the sauce you'd have gone with, but you weren't the kind of basic bitch who'd complain about free food. "You know how it is. Another day, another shitshow, another crisis to solve."
"And how's that going?"
"Came in to work today only to get told the whole power grid across Starboard was this close to failing. Just... boom. No lights, no air, nothing. But I found the problem, came up with a solution, and saved the day," you give the ysok a lofty look. "I'm a fucking hero, Gresh."
"Are ya now?" he raises an eyebrow at you.
"Fuck no," you burst out laughing. "They shut down some air scrubbers to keep the grid stable and now they're wasting the time this bought arguing over which actual solution will cause them the least grief. By evening we'll be having people getting them O deficiency headaches - probably in Belly, the poor bastards - and they'll still be arguing, most likely. Hey, wanna earn a quick few cred? Go buy a bunch of oxygen tanks and tomorrow you'll be flipping them at four hundred percent. But anyway, how's life on vermin patrol?"
"Oh, same old. Been fairly quiet since those darned fungi. But now that Barter's open for business again, I'm sure we'll be getting a whole passel of new and exciting critters to claw faces, piss battery acid, and spit flesh-melting neurotoxins."
"The usual then."
"Mmm."
(cont)
