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   Chapter 55 No.55

Bypass Gemini By Joseph R. Lallo Characters: 5248

Updated: 2018-01-19 19:02


"I have no idea what to say to you, " he said, shaking hands.

A moment later, the door opened and Hendricks and Miss Misra entered.

"This way, Mr. Alexander, " she said primly.

The trio proceeded down the hall, Miss Misra leading the way and Hendricks following like an incredibly hostile shadow. It turned out that the confusing network of hallways had evidently been thanks entirely to the trip to the "waiting" room, as the office was right down the hall from the receptionist's desk.

"I trust your meeting went well, " she remarked.

"Oh, yeah. It went great. Evidently I have the choice of indentured servitude or death, " Lex replied.

"Well, at least you get a choice."

"Too bad I'm not the one who gets to make it. Your uncle isn't exactly a teddy bear."

"One does not achieve his status through sentimentality and leniency."

"You seem to think very highly of him."

"As well I should. Operlo is the dross of the galaxy, Mr. Alexander. We are under no delusions to the contrary. Mr. Patel was born and bred here, and he has, through his own skill and determination, managed to attain no small level of success and influence, on the planet as well as off. He did so not through being a brute, as so many in his line of work have, but through cleverness and perspicacity. His methods may not be the most scrupulous, but he managed to wrestle power from men far worse, and his business dealings, legitimate and otherwise, are the only reason this planet hasn't collapsed into total chaos and financial ruin. Since he ascended to power, this p

th pockets and bearing a patch with "TRAINEE" written in bold capital letters. Combined with the wide-brimmed hat that accompanied it, wearing it made him feel like the tour guide on a safari ride. He'd had more dignified outfits, but at this point, a tutu would have been an improvement over the flight suit, which he was fairly sure was beginning to ferment. The shower and change of clothes, though recuperative, didn't do much to do away with the alcoholic stupor he'd managed to achieve. Either that rum had more of a kick than he was used to or he really was a lightweight.

He sat on the edge of a bunk, scratched at his unshaven face, and sorted through the facts.

"Let's see. I'm on an out-of-the-way planet, being essentially held prisoner by a well-educated sociopath, sitting in borrowed clothes on a bunk in an empty dormitory. . . again. This is a weird little rut my life seems to have gotten into, " he muttered, "but on the plus side, a pretty lady said she'd rather me be a slave than a corpse. I've got that going for me."

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