The Stars Down Under Read Online Free PDF

corner.
    â€œI could just leave you alone,” he said casually, “or I could turn on the fire-suppression equipment for this room. It’ll be hard to remain inconspicuous later when you’re soaking wet.”
    After a moment a young sailor emerged from the shadows behind a boiler. He was a scrawny kid, barely old enough to shave, tall and gawky in a flagpole sort of way.
    â€œSorry, sir,” he said.
    Myell sighed.
    The sailor noticed Myell’s insignia. “I mean Chief, not sir.”
    â€œWhat are you doing down here, sailor?”
    A frown, a shrug. “Just being derelict, Chief.”
    Myell scratched his chin. “Dereliction’s a pretty serious charge. You might as well come down to my office and be useful instead.”
    â€œChief?”
    â€œIt’s over here. It’s the luxury suite.”
    Myell led the way. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the sailor wipe at his eyes quickly. No worries there. Myell had done his own fair share of retreating to dark corners over the years. By the time they reached his office, the sailor’s face was splotchy but dry.
    â€œRomero, is it?” Myell asked, eyeing the sailor’s nametag.
    â€œYes, Chief. AT Putty Romero.”
    â€œWell, AT Putty Romero, what do you think of my palace? Too gaudy? Maybe I should tone it down.”
    Romero blinked uncertainly.
    â€œDon’t be afraid of hurting my feelings.” Myell turned to the deskgib and slapped the side of it, hoping to cease the clicking noise. If anything, the sound grew worse. “I’m told interior design isn’t my forte. What’s yours?”
    â€œMy what, Chief?”
    â€œYour special area of expertise.”
    Romero’s face scrunched up. “I’m not so bad with gibs.”
    â€œCan you fix this one?”
    Romero examined the deskgib, pried open the back panel, and began fiddling with the insides. “Power unit’s okay but the brain’s fried up. You’ll need a transplant.”
    â€œLet’s go shopping,” Myell said, and showed him to the supply room.
    It took thirty minutes with improvised tools for Romero to have the unit working properly. Myell would have taken twice the amount of time on his own. Once powered up, the gib didn’t get him to Core, but Myell could sync his bee to it if he wanted connectivity, and Romero jury-rigged a printer that was excruciatingly slow but serviceable.
    Romero was mostly silent as he worked, but Myell did worm out of him that he was part of the class graduating on Friday. He had orders to the Kamchatka, which was deploying soon for Earth. He’d never been off world before.
    â€œYou’re from around here?” Myell asked.
    â€œPennefather. The boondocks.”
    Myell’s grasp of Fortune’s geography was still tenuous. “Where I grew up, the nearest town was called Pink Skunk. You don’t know the definition of ‘desolate’ until you’ve been that way.”
    Romero brushed dust off the top of the printer. “I guess I’d better get back to study hall. I only have one exam to take before graduation Saturday.”
    â€œWhich exam is that?”
    â€œFifth-generation X-relation databases.” Romero was still gazing at the printer, as if it contained secrets of the universe. “I hate them.”
    â€œThey’re not so hard, once you understand them.”
    â€œOh, I understand them. They’re kinda easy. But clunky, you know? No beauty at all.”
    Myell asked, “Do you find the courses here too easy?”
    Romero shrugged. “They’re not so bad.”
    â€œBut not what you’re interested in.”
    That was it. Romero’s eyes gave him away before anything else did.
    Myell had heard many recruiting horror stories. “Recruiter lie to you? Promise you some other rating, and then switch you at the last minute?”
    â€œAeronautics tech. They said I could crew on birdies and