The loss of two such valuable beings from his section would, in any case, have made Caxton mad, quite apart from other considerations. O’Mara sighed heavily, decided that his nervous system demanded a more positive release than that, and swore. Then he picked up the feeder and returned to the bedroom.
Normally the Hudlarians absorbed food directly through their skin from the thick, soupy atmosphere of their planet, but on any other world or in space a concentrated food compound had to be sprayed onto the absorbent hides at certain intervals. The young e-t was showing large bare patches and in other places the previous food coating had worn very thin. Definitely, thought O’Mara, the infant was due for another feed. He moved as close as seemed safe and began to spray carefully.
The process of being painted with food seemed to be a pleasant one ( for the young FROB. It ceased to cower in the corner and began blundering excitedly about the small bedroom. For O’Mara it became a matter of trying to hit a rapidly moving object while practicing violent evasive maneuvers himself, which set his injured leg throbbing more painfully than ever. His furniture suffered, too.
Practically the whole interior surface of his sleeping compartment was covered with the sticky, sharp-smelling food compound, and also the exterior of the now-quiescent young alien, when Caxton arrived.
“What’s going on?” said the Section Chief.
Space construction men as a class were simple, uncomplicated personalities whose reactions were easily predictable. Caxton was the type who always asked what was going on even when, as now, he knew-and especially when such unnecessary questions were meant simply to needle somebody. In the proper circumstances the section chief was probably a quite likeable individual, O’Mara thought, but between Caxton and himself those circumstances had yet to come about.
O’Mara answered the question without showing the anger he felt, and ended, “. .. After this I think I’ll keep the kid in space, and feed it there. .
“You will not!” Caxton snapped. “You’ll keep it here with you, all the time. But more about that later. At the moment I want to know about the accident. Your side of it, that is.”
His expression said that he was prepared to listen, but that he already doubted every word that O’Mara would say in advance.
“Before you go any further,” Caxton broke in after O’Mara had completed two sentences, “you know that this project is under Monitor Corps jurisdiction. Usually the Monitors let us settle any trouble that crops up in our own way, but this case involves extra-terrestrials and they’ll have to be brought in on it. There’ll be an investigation.” He tapped the small, flat box hanging from his chest. “It’s only fair to warn you that I’m taping everything you say.
O’Mara nodded and began giving his account of the accident in a low monotone. It was a very weak story, he knew, and stressing any particular incident so as to point it up in his favor would make it sound even more artificial. Several times Caxton opened his mouth to speak, but thought better of it. Finally he said:
“But did anyone see you doing these things? Or even see the two e-ts moving about in the danger area while the warning lights were burning? You have a neat little story to explain this madness on their part- which, incidentally, makes you quite a hero-but it could be that you switched on the lights after the accident, that it was your negligence regarding the lights which caused it, and that all this about the straying youngster is a pack of lies designed to get you out of a very serious charge-”
“Waring saw me,” O’Mara cut in.
Caxton stared at him intently, his expression changing from suppressed anger to one of utter disgust and scorn. Despite himself O’Mara felt his face heating up.
“Waring eh?” said the section chief tonelessly. “A nice touch, that. You know, and we all know, that you have been riding Waring constantly, needling him and playing on his disability to such an extent that he must hate you like poison. Even if he did see you, the court would expect him to keep quiet about it. And if he did not see you, they would think that he had and was keeping quiet about it anyway. O’Mara, you make me sick.”