"I said I'd buy you a mug of tea. Then, we'll talk, and that's all. I mean it."
"I just got outta—Listen, I can't take it so good any more, see?"
"Don't worry. We aren't going to have any games this morning. Come on, let's go."
When Sornal started talking, the flow of words was almost continuous.
He had come to Kellonia almost four years before, on a standard one-year contract. For over twenty years, he'd moved around, working in space-yards over the galaxy. He'd worked on short contracts, banking his profits on his home planet. And he'd planned to finally return to his original home on Thorwald, use his considerable savings to buy a small business, and settle down to semi-retirement.
But an offer of highly attractive rates had brought him to Kellonia for one last contract with Janzel.
"They got my papers somewhere around here," he said, "only I can't get 'em back any more." He shook his head wearily and went on.
Everything had gone smoothly for the first half of his contract period. He'd drawn impressively large checks and deposited them. And after thinking it over, he had indicated he would like an extension.
"That was when they nailed me down," he said. "There was just that one bad run, only that was the job that sneaked through the inspection and went bust at Proof."
"Blowup?"