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. I can't talk anymore. We've got company." Xris cut off Harry's protest.
"We've been having a problem with the fleas down here," Drake was saying to Tycho. "The filters catch them in the air exchangers and they're breeding--"
Xris returned. "If you don't mind, Commander, we are running behind schedule and my men need to get back to work."
"You want me out of the way." Drake smiled broadly. "I understand. Stop by my office before you leave, if you have time. The other crew usually does. I've got hot tea, fresh doughnuts."
"Sure thing, sir. Thanks," Xris said, and watched the commander walk off.
A nice guy. Xris hoped like hell nothing would go wrong. He turned to Quong, who was scratching at his neck.
"With all this talk of fleas, I'm starting to itch."
"It's all in your head. Listen, I've had word from Harry.
Lima Three Niner, Deck Eight."
Quong ran a check. "That area's serviced by 'bot eleven---one Tycho's already 'fixed.'"
Xris breathed a sigh. That would save time. His luck was holding.
"I'll start the malfunction cycle." Quong pulled out a handheld minicomputer from the pocket of his coverails.
He tapped in several commands, extended the small antenna, and transmitted instructions. Several seconds later, the microchip that Tycho had installed into the 'bot's control circuitry responded.
"All systems go," the Doe announced
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