The Kruton Interface Read Online Free PDF Page A

U.S.S. Intrepid, which underwent total systems breakdown and spent a year in the graving dock. Well, Mr. Sadowski, can you tell us anything about that?”
    Sadowski shook his russet head. “Aye, there’s mony a weary airt in th’ solar wund, sir, for a’ that an’ a’ that.”
    Wanker looked to Rhodes for help. “Number One, do you have any idea what this man is jabbering about?”
    Rhodes shook his head. “None, sir. I don’t speak Scots, I’m afraid.”
    Wanker said, “Neither do I. In fact, I think I pulled a D in Scots when I was in school.” His tone became ironically bright. “Well, we’ll just have to muddle through. Oh, what’s this? Three disciplinary actions in the last year… ’Intoxicated on duty’ … ’Intoxicated on Duty’ and”—Wanker squinted—”‘Unconscious on Duty’! Quite an accomplishment, that last. Anything to say for yourself, Mr. Sadowski?”
    “Fegs, sir, antimatter’s a brawer thing ta mak ye fou than whuskie.”
    “Isn’t that amazing, I just read that in a fortune cookie at lunch. Moving on… ”
    Wanker sidestepped to the next officer, a petite woman with overlong brown hair, green eyes, and a pixie face. “Who’s this, now?”
    Rhodes said, “Our navigator, sir. Diane Warner-Hillary, lieutenant, junior grade.”
    Wanker smiled. “Diane Warner-Hillary. Nice name. Certainly an improvement over Angus Sadowski. Let’s see. Lieutenant, it says here that you missed your last assigned tour of duty as navigator because you weren’t there when the shuttle lifted off. Any explanation?”
    Warner-Hillary grinned sheepishly. “I couldn’t find the spaceport, sir.”
    Wanker frowned. “You couldn’t find the spaceport?”
    “I got lost, sir,” Warner-Hillary said with a shrug. “When I drive I have this, like, totally bogus sense of direction. I get lost all the time, sir. It’s terrible.” She giggled nervously.
    Wanker’s voice boomed, as if announcing to the world at large. “A navigator with a terrible sense of direction.” An aside to Rhodes: “Don’t you find a wistful poetic irony in that?”
    Rhodes gave an inward grimace, but nodded dutifully. “Yes, sir.”
    Wanker turned to Warner-Hillary. “Don’t you think a navigator having a bad sense of direction is a trifle ironic? Not to say impractical.”
    “Oh, our last captain, Captain Chang, thought it was funny.”
    “Oh, he did?”
    Warner-Hillary said between giggles, “It was a she, sir. Oh, yes, sir. We had a little running joke about it. We’d get completely lost and she’d go, ‘Lieutenant Warner-Hillary?’ And I’m like, ‘How the hell should I know?’” She burst into elfin laughter.
    This was apparently quite funny to the rest of the bridge crew. They could not contain their mirth, much to Wanker’s chagrin, which he concealed behind a broad, good-natured smile.
    “So, that was your little joke’?”
    Still tittering but fighting to control it, Warner-Hillary nodded. “Yes, sir.”
    Wanker smiled through gritted teeth. “A laugh riot every light year. Who’s next?”
    Rhodes said, “Darvona Roundheels. Rank: lieutenant, junior grade. Assignment: communications officer.”
    Darvona saluted. Wanker automatically began to return it, but before he could follow through, Lieutenant Darvona wrapped him in her arms, gave him one colossal smooch right on the chops, and released him.
    Wanker was flustered almost beyond recovery. “Well, that was decidedly unmilitary, but I appreciate the sentiment.” He straightened his uniform and tried to focus his crossed eyes on the personnel roster.
    “You have lipstick on you, sir,” Rhodes told him.
    “Huh? Oh.” Wanker rubbed his face. “Is it all off?”
    “Right there, sir. No, other side.”
    “Here? Okay, thank you.” Wanker exhaled, having regained his composure. “Darvona Roundheels, lovely name. Ah, I see her record is spotless. Not one merit or citation to sully the purity of her total incompetence. How did you land a