tray toward the center of the table. ?All right, you want to know what’s wrong? I’ll tell you what’s wrong. I’ve learned how to get along here. I never thought that I would but I have. I don’t mind the dark, I don’t mind the bugs, I don’t mind the isolation or all the talk of ghosts in the machinery. But I mind Golic.?He waved at the individual in question, who blissfully continued scarfing down his food.

Dillon turned to Boggs. ?That the way you feel about it??

Boggs continued to stir his food nervously, finally looked up. ?I ain’t one to start something or cause trouble. I just want to get along and serve my time like everybody else.?

The big man leaned forward and the table creaked slightly beneath his weight. ?I asked you if that’s the way you feel about it.?

?All right, yeah. Yeah. Hey, the man is crazy. I don’t care what Clemens or the ‘official’ reports say. He’s nuts. If he wasn’t like this when he got here then he is now. The planet or the place or both have made him like that. He’s running on smoke drive, and he smells bad. I ain’t goin’ outside with him anymore. Not to the beach, not to check the shafts, not nowhere. And ain’t nobody can make me,?he finished belligerently. ?I know my rights.?

?Your rights??Dillon smiled thinly. ?Yes, of course. Your rights.?He glanced to his left. ?You got anything to say for yourself??

Golic looked up, particles of food clinging to his thick lips, and grinned idiotically. He essayed an indifferent shrug before returning to his meal.

Dillon regarded the other two steadily. ?Because Golic doesn’t like to talk doesn’t mean he’s crazy. Just nonverbal. Frankly, from everything I’ve seen he manages to express 61

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what he’s feeling as well as anybody else. There are no orators here.?

?Get to the point,?Boggs mumbled unhappily.

?The point is that he’s going with you. He’s part of your work team and until further notice or unless he does something more threatening than keep his mouth shut, that’s the way it stays. You all have a job to do. Take it from me, you will learn not to mind Golic or his little idiosyncrasies. He’s nothing more than another poor, miserable, suffering son of a bitch like you and me. Which means he’s no crazier than any of the rest of us.?

?Except he smells worse,?Rains snapped disgustedly.

?And he’s crazy,?Boggs added, unrepentant.