There hadn't been an explosion in over a hundred cycles.
He wondered how he should take the incident. On the one hand, it was just the sewage plant, and the Rock had more than enough of those.
On the other hand, this was Omega Station and everything meant something more than was apparent at first glance.
Eversyn sighed and called his secretary.
"Yes, Captain?" The young Halsan woman's voice practically sparkled over the intercom.
"Please call Master Dyll and express my apologies, but I will have to cancel our dinner meeting. Explain to him that an emergency has arisen and duty calls."
"Yes, Sir. Will there be anything further?"
"That will be all, Lisolia, thank you."
He clicked the comsys off, then took his standard issue sidearm from his desk drawer and holstered it, picked up his data pad and stylus, pocketed them in his flack vest and headed for the door.
He hated missing his meeting with Rudof Dyll. From what he knew of Dyll—and that wasn't very much—Eversyn was fairly confident that the most influential sentient on the Rock would not take offense. On the contrary, thought Eversyn, Dyll always seemed to take particular interest in his job. Why was beyond Eversyn's ability to grasp. Politeness? Dyll didn't need to be polite to anyone; he was too rich. Sincere curiosity in the routine headaches of the head of the Consolidated Guard's presence on Omega Station?
Or perhaps Rudof Dyll simply sees me as an equal.
That was a comforting thought and it kept him smiling all the way down to the still flaming tanks of the sewage plant.