Shock Wave by Walt Richmond & Leigh Richmond

Author:Walt Richmond & Leigh Richmond [Richmond, Walt & Richmond, Leigh]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Wildside Press
Published: 2018-04-05T00:00:00+00:00

IX

“TERRY!”

He snapped awake at the sound of his name.

“Hey! Come on! Work to do!”

For a moment Terry sank back groggily, considering telling Tinkan to go to hell. But that was only for a moment. As he jumped from bed and began dressing, Grontunk’s voice joined Tinkan’s.

“Come on! How’s a student supposed to learn anything around here? We’ve got three power stations to key back in.”

Terry grinned. Grontunk’s tone reminded him of all the Serious Sophomores at Berkeley, Notebooks at the Ready. And he remembered Cal, teasing him his second year about his own voluminous note-taking. “Listen with your mind, not that notebook,” Cal had said then. And when he’d argued that he needed to refresh his memory with the notes, Cal had laughed at him, but he’d taught him the trick. “You want to know exactly what was said in a classroom? Go back and be there and listen. Just picture the classroom around—get the details and the movement in the picture, and the little sounds real clear, and you’ll find yourself listening to the professor again.”

Finished dressing, Terry joined his companions in the corridor, and they headed for the cafeteria, over Grontunk’s protests. “You mean you’re going to feed your face when we’ve got work to do?” the Saurian complained.

“And how long have you been up?” Terry asked.

“We Saurians believe in working first, then eating. Seems more natural that way. But as a student . . .”

“But as a student,” Terry answered, “best you take into account the eccentricities of your instructor.”

“Who’s being eccentric?” The gay voice from the dining hall was matched by the slim cool figure of Murtag.

“Good m-morning,” he stammered.

“You overslept,” she said. “But I’ve already got a breakfast set out for you, and I gather we’re not in too much of a rush, so I told the boys to let you sleep a few minutes anyhow.”

“I find it a shame that we can’t offer our friend Tinkan something,” Grontunk growled. “He seems not to understand the partaking of food—though I suppose we could offer him a jolt of electricity or a bottle of oil, but that doesn’t seem quite the same thing.”

Murtag grinned. “I’ve never heard of a robot eating eggs for breakfast.”

“I,” said Tinkan somewhat solemnly, “have already reconciled myself to your animal habits. But I find a smooth-flowing intake of power to be much more efficient and . . .”

“Eggs?” Grontunk broke in. “You’re eating eggs?”

“Whoa, boy. Simmer down,” Terry said. “They’re not Saurian eggs.”

“Oh. Of course. But . . . oh, never mind. I see. It’s just another interspecies difference.” Grontunk struggled with his own concept of anyone who would eat an egg, no matter who or whose.

“And what would you like?” Terry asked.

“Oh, a chunk of boiled alup.” The word was foreign to Terry so he flipped on the translator. It replied in Galactic, “Alup: the young of a species of biped that . . .”

“What?” Murtag’s reaction was as horrified as Grontunk’s had been.

“All right, everybody simmer down.” Terry waved at both of them.

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