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.
No comments:
Post a Comment
We welcome your comments!