carts piled high with repair gear and goblin contractors filtered in to work on the damage. One of the group was a black man with a shaved head, built like a linebacker. He wore the same uniform as Fitzy with what looked like an archway on his chest. A smaller, pale man with thick glasses stood beside him, sporting the same uniform with a grinning skull in place of the archway. Both men went rigid at the sight of Fitzy.
“Here you go, sir,” Fitzy said. “May I present Keystone and Rictus, two of my lambs.”
The bigger man turned and immediately snapped to attention at the sight of Bookbinder’s rank. “Sir,” he said, soldier’s habit evident in his tone.
Bookbinder’s eyes widened. “Oscar Britton. I can’t believe I’m meeting you.”
Britton looked askance at Fitzy. The chief warrant officer nodded almost imperceptibly.
“Conditional pardon, sir,” Britton said. “I’m a proud Entertech employee now.”
“Enter . . .” Bookbinder began.
“It’s the main contract manpower provider here,” Fitzy said.
“All of the goblins and some of the Sorcerers work for ’em. Most of the maintenance and special skills work, too.”
Bookbinder turned to Taylor. “But I heard he was a Warlock or something. Isn’t that Probe magic? Shouldn’t he be . . .”
Britton’s expression went sympathetic. “I’m still getting used to it myself, sir.”
“Secure that,” Fitzy barked. Britton shut his mouth, and his eyes snapped front.
Bookbinder turned back to Britton. “Public enemy number one,” he said, then realized he could feel Britton’s flow. “You’re not even Suppressed!”
“We’re making an omelet here,” Taylor said. “I’ll explain everything once we get back to the office.” He nodded to Fitzy, who in turn growled at Britton and his companion until they followed the electric carts back inside the gate. Bookbinder watched Fitzy’s demeanor soften as soon as Britton was out of sight. He’d seen men be nasty to train people before, but this looked more like genuine hate.
On the way back to the office, they nearly ran into a man standing in the muddy track, one corner of his mouth upturned in an impudent smile. He was thin, his skin unnaturally corpse gray. His slick black hair was plastered to his head. He wore black cargo pants bloused over hiking boots. A dirty, rumpled long-sleeved polo shirt sported the Entertech logo on the right breast.
“Gentlemen,” he said. His voice cracked as if he wasn’t used to using it.
Taylor’s expression went hard at having his way blocked until his eyes reached the man’s face. Then he melted into the most disingenuous smile Bookbinder had seen in a long time. “Hey!”
Taylor said. “How’s the camp treating you?”
“It’s a mud-caked shit hole, Taylor,” the man said. “No doubt thanks to your expert oversight.”
Bookbinder sucked in his breath, but the colonel only grinned. “Yeah, it takes some getting used to, that’s for sure.
“Let me introduce you to Colonel Alan Bookbinder,” Taylor said, draping an arm over Bookbinder’s shoulders. “Alan here’s our new J1. Hopefully, he can get some of the contracting snaggles sorted out. Alan, this here’s the Sculptor. He’s our most valued Entertech consultant.”
“Great,” the Sculptor said, not looking at Bookbinder.
“Maybe now that you have a manpower expert, you can get my bonus pay unfucked.”
Bookbinder shrugged off Taylor’s grip. “Now, wait just a minute—” he began, but Taylor’s hand settled on his shoulder, gripping painfully. Taylor laughed loud enough to cut off Bookbinder’s retort. “Alan’s new here. Still learning the lay of the land.”
The Scupltor’s dark eyes settled on Bookbinder, narrowing.
Bookbinder opened his mouth, but Taylor’s grip tightened.
“New, huh,” the Sculptor said. “Well, I know you’ll get him schooled.”
“You bet we will,” Taylor said.
“Got a chopper to catch,” the Sculptor said. “I’m
“Here you go, sir,” Fitzy said. “May I present Keystone and Rictus, two of my lambs.”
The bigger man turned and immediately snapped to attention at the sight of Bookbinder’s rank. “Sir,” he said, soldier’s habit evident in his tone.
Bookbinder’s eyes widened. “Oscar Britton. I can’t believe I’m meeting you.”
Britton looked askance at Fitzy. The chief warrant officer nodded almost imperceptibly.
“Conditional pardon, sir,” Britton said. “I’m a proud Entertech employee now.”
“Enter . . .” Bookbinder began.
“It’s the main contract manpower provider here,” Fitzy said.
“All of the goblins and some of the Sorcerers work for ’em. Most of the maintenance and special skills work, too.”
Bookbinder turned to Taylor. “But I heard he was a Warlock or something. Isn’t that Probe magic? Shouldn’t he be . . .”
Britton’s expression went sympathetic. “I’m still getting used to it myself, sir.”
“Secure that,” Fitzy barked. Britton shut his mouth, and his eyes snapped front.
Bookbinder turned back to Britton. “Public enemy number one,” he said, then realized he could feel Britton’s flow. “You’re not even Suppressed!”
“We’re making an omelet here,” Taylor said. “I’ll explain everything once we get back to the office.” He nodded to Fitzy, who in turn growled at Britton and his companion until they followed the electric carts back inside the gate. Bookbinder watched Fitzy’s demeanor soften as soon as Britton was out of sight. He’d seen men be nasty to train people before, but this looked more like genuine hate.
On the way back to the office, they nearly ran into a man standing in the muddy track, one corner of his mouth upturned in an impudent smile. He was thin, his skin unnaturally corpse gray. His slick black hair was plastered to his head. He wore black cargo pants bloused over hiking boots. A dirty, rumpled long-sleeved polo shirt sported the Entertech logo on the right breast.
“Gentlemen,” he said. His voice cracked as if he wasn’t used to using it.
Taylor’s expression went hard at having his way blocked until his eyes reached the man’s face. Then he melted into the most disingenuous smile Bookbinder had seen in a long time. “Hey!”
Taylor said. “How’s the camp treating you?”
“It’s a mud-caked shit hole, Taylor,” the man said. “No doubt thanks to your expert oversight.”
Bookbinder sucked in his breath, but the colonel only grinned. “Yeah, it takes some getting used to, that’s for sure.
“Let me introduce you to Colonel Alan Bookbinder,” Taylor said, draping an arm over Bookbinder’s shoulders. “Alan here’s our new J1. Hopefully, he can get some of the contracting snaggles sorted out. Alan, this here’s the Sculptor. He’s our most valued Entertech consultant.”
“Great,” the Sculptor said, not looking at Bookbinder.
“Maybe now that you have a manpower expert, you can get my bonus pay unfucked.”
Bookbinder shrugged off Taylor’s grip. “Now, wait just a minute—” he began, but Taylor’s hand settled on his shoulder, gripping painfully. Taylor laughed loud enough to cut off Bookbinder’s retort. “Alan’s new here. Still learning the lay of the land.”
The Scupltor’s dark eyes settled on Bookbinder, narrowing.
Bookbinder opened his mouth, but Taylor’s grip tightened.
“New, huh,” the Sculptor said. “Well, I know you’ll get him schooled.”
“You bet we will,” Taylor said.
“Got a chopper to catch,” the Sculptor said. “I’m
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