*
He went to bed early and slept like a rock.
First thing in the morning, he went to Jackson’s office. Cole wasn’t in yet, so on an impulse, he sat down at a terminal and tried to pull up his job performance report. The system honked and refused to admit him. He sat for a moment, thinking.
“Bandicut! Where the hell have you been?” Cole Jackson strode into the office, carrying a large steaming cup of coffee. It reminded him that he hadn’t eaten yet.
“I got . . . your message,” he stammered, then added, “Since Switzer put me on the disabled list, I’ve been taking it easy, trying to rest.”
“Yeah, okay,” Jackson said, walking around to his desk. “There was no need to come in person. You aren’t going to get that ankle healed by doing a lot of unnecessary walking, you know.”
Bandicut nodded. “I see you’ve put me back on the job. What was the outcome of the inquiry—if you don’t mind my asking?”
“I don’t mind. Why should I?” Jackson rocked back in his chair, sipping his coffee. “They gave you credit for the field repair, just like I said they should.”
Oh, Bandicut thought.
Jackson added, “My people know how to do their jobs. I’ve always said that. So what you did was something neither more nor less than expected.”
Bandicut allowed a half-smile to cross his lips. Cole, if you knew . . . if you only knew . . .
“So,” Jackson said, eyeing Bandicut expectantly. “Are you going to be in shape tomorrow?”
Bandicut suppressed a chuckle. “I doubt that Switzer will okay it so soon after the accident. He said five days. You know how these company quacks are—sticklers for medical detail—they like people to be at least half recovered before they put them back on the job.”
Jackson frowned and sat forward. “Well, you take care of the recovery, and let me handle Switzer, okay? Are you well enough to come in and do some desk work?”
Bandicut shrugged. “I guess so, as long as I don’t overdo it.” He hesitated. “I notice we’re redoing some of the original survey.”
That brought a scowl from Jackson. “Why the hell you think we’re in such a hurry? Maybe now they’ll start listening to me when I tell them the damn datanet is vulnerable to sabotage. I’ve been saying that all along.”
Bandicut kept a poker face. “Sabotage? You think someone . . . sabotaged . . . the system?”
Jackson’s face darkened further. “Why? Do you know something about it?”
Bandicut shook his head, not trusting his voice. He felt his face going blank.
/// What are you doing?
Are you trying to draw suspicion
to yourself? ///
“No,” he managed finally. “How would I know anything about it? I’ve been on the sick list.” /Of course not. I just—/
Jackson glared. “Bandicut, why are you looking like that?”
He flushed. “Nothing. Just—the painkillers, I guess. I suppose I should go lie down or something.”
“That’s what I just told you. Anyway, go see Switzer and let me know what he says. We need you out there. Now, get some rest, will you?”
Bandicut rose and limped carefully from the room.
Chapter 19
Exoarch
DR. SWITZER SHOOK his head, chuckling. “Your boss called and said he wants you back at work tomorrow. I told him that was ridiculous. What does he think this is, anyway? I couldn’t possibly approve sending you out in less than three days after a broken ankle. Now, if you’d taken the nanomed treatment like I told you—”
Bandicut started to answer, but the doctor had already turned away to consult his computer screen.
“Actually,” Switzer said, returning, “you might have done the right thing, refusing that particular course of treatment. We discovered another batch with faulty programming just yesterday. Instead of bringing a fever down, it gave some poor guy chickenpox.” He barked a short, harsh laugh. “I don’t know why they can’t quality-control the stuff better than that. Here, now, let’s have a look.”
Bandicut watched, none too confidently, as the doctor hoisted his ankle and jacked a monitor into the fastract cast. “You been taking those pills I gave you?” Switzer asked.
“I think I forgot once.” Actually, he’d forgotten more often than he’d remembered.
Switzer grunted, snapping a few switches. “Well, then, don’t blame me.” He glanced at Bandicut with a chuckle. “Here we go.” His eyebrows contracted as he studied the machine. “You’re not doing too badly here. According to this, your cast can probably come off in two more days.”
Bandicut nodded. “I guess Cole is going to have to be disappointed.”
Switzer scratched the back of his head. “Well, now—he did make it sound pretty urgent, didn’t he?”
“Not that urgent, I’m sure.”
Switzer seemed not to hear him. “I guess maybe we could work something out. As long as you’re just going to be driving. I mean, you won’t be getting out and stumbling around out on the plain, will you?”
Bandicut stared at him, thinking, that’s probably exactly what I’ll be doing.
Switzer chuckled, as though they had just shared a joke. “Look, I’ll tell you what—check in with me first thing in the morning, and I’ll see what we can do for you.”
“You don’t have to do anything special for me.”
Switzer chuckled and clapped Bandicut on the shoulder. “I like to keep my workers on the job. That fever of yours hasn’t come back, has it?” When Bandicut shook his head, the doctor shrugged. “Okay, I guess we’ll let sleeping dogs lie on that one. Come back tomorrow, and don’t forget to take the rest of those pills.”
You don’t like embarrassing mysteries in your office, do you? Bandicut thought, sliding off the table. He knew he should be glad that Switzer wasn’t pursuing the question of the fever, but he couldn’t help wondering what the old quack would say if he knew Bandicut was possessed by—or rather, was harboring—an alien.
/// Thank you for that correction.
It’s going to remain an academic question,
isn’t it? ///
/Does this guy look like someone I would trust to tell about you?/ Bandicut loped off down the corridor, his cast thumping lightly and rhythmically on the deck.
/// Good point.
Where to now? ///
/To find Julie./
/// Oh . . . ///
/Prepare to hold your gorge, Mr. Xenophobe./
There was no answering remark from the quarx, which suited him just fine.
Neptune Crossing Page 40
