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Norton, Andre, 1912-2005

"Plague Ship"


But Rip merely registered a mild resignation. "You the Com-tech? Where's
your unit? I'll indit at once if you want it that way."
Whether their readiness to co-operate allayed some of the agent's
suspicion or not, he relaxed some, giving them one more stare all around
before he turned on his heel. "This way."
They followed him down the narrow hall, Rip on his heels, the others
behind.
"Lonely post," Rip commented. "I'd think you boys'd get space-whirly out
here."
The other snorted. "We're not star lovers. And the pay's worth a three
month stretch. They take us down for Terra leave before we start talking
to the Whisperers."
"How many of you here at a time?" Rip edged the question in casually.
But the other might have been expecting it by the way he avoided giving a
direct answer. "Enough to run the place--and not enough to help you clean
out your wagon," he was short about it. "Any dumping you do is strictly
on your own. You've enough hands on a spacer that size to manage--"
Rip laughed. "Far be it from me to ask an Eysie to do any real work," was
his counter.


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