“Take it easy, Danson.”
“Shut up! Shut your damned mouth because I’m not finished! Tell me, god, have you ever been confined to a pint sized prison? You ever had your brain picked clean by a flock of intellectual buzzards? You ever sat in a room, with the walls closing in on you, listening to a couple of blue-uniformed knotheads stand outside your door talking a babble of language that sounded like Chinese, and not be able to speak to them? Not be able to take a piss because you don’t know how to find the toilet and don’t know how to ask where it is?
“Well, I have. I have and I’m up to my ears with this whole bit. I lie here every night and dream about taking this so-called starship and ramming it up your ass, plate by plate...”
Danson broke off suddenly, unable to continue his wild tirade. He sat there on the edge of the bunk, his face a livid white, with the cigarette dangling from his lips. His left eye closed against the bite of the smoke and his jaws knotted as he stared at the wall.
“All finished,” Lors demanded quietly.
Danson grunted. “Yeah. Yeah, ace, I’m all finished. In a way, I’m sorry ... but it felt good. I’ve wanted to get all that off my chest for a long time.”
“I can see your position, Danson,” Lors told him. “I know what you’ve been through, but I can’t do anything about it. I follow orders.”
Danson grinned. “Who’re you trying to kid, pal. You got Commander Zark’s daughter eating out of the palm of your hand. Hell, I’ll bet you pull more strings around this ship than a puppeteer.”
[p119]
“I’ve underestimated you, Danson,” Lors told him in a soft voice. “You have an interesting mind. Quite a grasp.”
Danson snorted again. “You guys aren’t the sharpest people in the world. I will give you a bit of advice, for free. You better either return me to earth, or kill me. In another thirteen months, I’ll figure out a way to blow this hulk into a million pieces.”