“He knew better. These Lani know gas capsules. All George had to do was hold his breath. In that cell George would have killed you. You couldn’t have stayed away from him.”
Kennon shrugged. Maybe that was what Douglas had wanted. Kennon sighed. He didn’t have the answer. And it could just be that Douglas had tried to show off. Well, he would pay for it. He’d have a stiff neck for months, and perhaps that was a proper way to end it.
* * *
Commander Mullins, a thin gray-faced man with the hard cold eyes of a professional soldier, came into the corridor followed by another trooper.
His eyes took in the wreckage that had been George, the split lips, the smashed nose, the puffed eyes, the cuts and bruises, and then raked across Kennon.
“Spaceman—hey?” he asked. “I’ve seen work like that before.”
Kennon nodded. “I was once. I’m station veterinarian now. Douglas called me over—said it was an emergency.”
Mullins nodded.
“Well—why aren’t you tending to it?”
“I have to examine them,” Kennon said gesturing at the cells. “And I don’t want any more trouble like this.”