The Kruton Interface

CHAPTER 3

“Rusty” was in the cargo hold sweeping up the debris left by some last minute crating. He didn’t like sweeping up, but he wasn’t about to complain. Jobs as research assistants were at a premium these days. Budget cuts. It wasn’t a high-paying job, as jobs went, but it paid the bills and gave Rusty three meals a day. And there were other benefits that were much better than any salary.

The job had given him a chance to travel. Here he was, aboard a military starship far out in space. They were to rendezvous with another ship, the test ship. Once aboard, “Rusty,” “Chicolini,” and the Boss would begin a series of test runs that would be the culmination of years of experiment and research.

Six long years of work.

Well, not hard work, but work just the same.

Six years of spending government money. The equipment and supplies they’d bought! Millions spent on antiproton generators and microfusion reactors and endless varieties of technological extravagance.

The parties they’d had! Hundreds of thousands squandered on wine and women and drugs and kicky off-the-shelf brainware…

Ooops. Better not go into that. But the Boss was in good with the government. He had many and powerful friends in high places. It was okay to throw a little money around, live high, have a good time, as long as you delivered the goods.

Rusty kept sweeping, working his way between high stacks of plastic crates. The overhead lights were few and far between in this part of the ship, and it was getting dark in these narrow aisles.

He heard a sound behind and turned.

Rusty squinted. What was that? Something moving. He stopped. One of the crew, perhaps.

Rusty began to sweep again, but halted. He looked around. Hell, this was clean enough. He started retracing his steps through the maze of aisles between the high stacks.

Squash, squish.

“What the…”

Rusty looked at his shoes. He was standing in a puddle of something.

“Hey, who spilled—? Yuck, what is this stuff?”

Rusty walked through the puddle, made a few turns, and arrived at the cargo bay hatch. He went out into the corridor and flagged down a passing warrant officer.

“Hey, space-guy, know where I can get a mop?”

“Janitorial stuff’s right in that compartment.”

Rusty followed the pointed finger.

“ ‘Space-guy,’” the warrant officer muttered, walking away.

Rusty didn’t find a mop, but this nifty vacuum scrubber would do fine. He hauled the thing back to the cargo bay.

But he couldn’t find the puddle. He searched and searched, threading the maze and becoming more irritated the longer he kept at it. It was gone. Dried up. Or it was just something leaking that flowed away somewhere? In which case, it was the space-guys’ problem, not his. He shrugged and lugged the vacuum scrubber back to the hatch.

As he was leaving he happened to glance back and saw Chicolini coming out of the stacks.

“Hey. Were you back there?”

“I was looking for you.”

Rusty’s coworker wasn’t in character, but then neither was Rusty.

“You know, I didn’t see you when I was … never mind. What’s up? The Boss?”

Chicolini nodded. “He’s getting wild. He’s always wired, never goes out of character. You better go up and see what you can do with him.”

“What can I do with him?”

“You’ve been with him longer, you know him better than I do.”

“Hey, he’s a genius. I’m just a lab tech.”

“Get up to the cabin. If he blows the project, the politicians might want to know what we’ve been spending all the money on. In detail. Get the picture?”

“Got the picture.”

“So, leave. And get into character.”

“Sure. Always do when I’m around the Boss. He hates reality.”

“All humans do.”

Rusty chuckled. “You’re not human?”

“Forget it,” Rusty’s coworker said.

“Hey, by the way, when you were back there, did you step into a puddle of something?”

“Something? What something?”

“Couldn’t see what it was. Something wet and sticky.”

“Forget about it.”

“Hey, it could have been lubrication leaking from one of our crates. What do you mean, forget—”

“I’ll take care of it,” Chicolini said, taking the vacuum scrubber. “You go look after the Boss.”

Rusty shrugged. “Anything you say.”

“And remember to get into character.”

“I’ll switch on before I go in the door.”

“All right, just don’t forget, you know how touchy he is.”

“Sure. See you later.”

“See you. Don’t worry about the leak. I’ll look after it.”

“Okay!”

Rusty jogged off down the corridor, his tattered trench coat trailing and napping.

“I’ll take care of it. Yeah, sure.”

The one called Chicolini retreated into the shadows of the hold.