EPISODE CCXL - SUSIE SALAMI AND THE SADISTIC SWAMI
Lt. Schrader ceased his rebuke of the befuddled physician as the alarms began to sound. He cast a helpless look at Nation.
"I gotta go, brother. You reckon you can keep an eye on Orwig?"
"Sure, no sweat", the good natured private replied, dragging a chair over next to the table.
"And on him", the lieutenant suggested more earnestly, pointing at Egan. "Nurse Yahbo oughta get here perty soon, so don't let the Doc practice no medicine 'til she does."
"Rah-joe", Nation acknowledged. "I can always call Hillier if I need some help."
Hearing his name, the injured ex-commando moaned from the other room. Schrader turned to leave and nearly tripped over Sgt. Marx, a sheet draped around his stocky form, and his good eye leering up at the
pilot.
"It's Battle Stations, boy!", the salty veteran growled at him. "Ain't you supposed to be down at your fighter?!?"
"I was just...", Schrader stammered.
"I know", Marx said, cutting him off, "you were going to get me a cup of coffee, and I appreciate it. But you gotta learn to prioritize, boy!"
Schrader only nodded as he moved around the grizzled sergeant and exited the medical department.
"Young people", Marx observed aloud.
"You're telling me", Nation agreed cheerfully from his chair.
Marx turned his disturbing gaze on the private. "Shut up, maggot."
Powell stood outside the armory, his appointed station during times of duress. The Dugs were hunkered down inside, still wary of visitors due to the DANA incident, readying the weaponry that might be
needed. Eve-Stay, ho had been touring the ship on his own, strolled over to where the corporal stood.
"Hawalt ayund be recognahzed!!", Powell called out as the alien approached.
The Melk dawned a curious expression. "Its ay ee may", he replied, "Eve-Stay. I'm ay eyeing tray oo tay ind fay ee they ij brey."
"This har's the ahrm'ry", Powell advised him, "you'all need ta' take a raht up at the next tarn."
"Or yay erds way are ay ange stray oo tay ee may", Eve-Stay admitted.
"Whad're y'all tawkin' abat?", the corporal asked incredulously. "I tawk jes fahn!"
Eve-Stay could see the commando was getting agitated. "At's they ought nay ut way I'm ay aying say", he remarked, trying to calm Powell down. "I ay am a ust jay aving hay ifficulty day anslating
tray or yay eening may."
"Thas cuz yer wunna them a-leens."
Startled by the heated conversation, Dug stuck his heads out of the door Powell was guarding. "What's going on?!?", left head inquired.
"Yeah, what's the deal?", right chimed in.
"This har space mayun done called me ig'nernt", Powell remarked angrily.
Eve-Stay tried to explain. "Oh nay. I ust jay ahnted way im hay oo tay ok tay ower slay."
"Well, you do have a...", left head searched for the right word, "unique accent, corporal."
"Thass raht", Powell agreed forcefully, "yoo-neek! But that duhn't mean ahm styoopid."
"I ay usn't way aying say it ay id day", the Melk stammered.
"Well, at least the Corporal speaks English", right pointed out, earning him a disapproving look from left.
Powell paused in consideration. "Well, ah reckon ah do tawk a maht odd." He shrugged as he looked back over at Eve-Stay. "Ah din't mean nothin' by that 'a-leen' thing."
"Oh nay oblem pray, Orporal kay", Eve-Stay replied amiably. "It ay uz way ust jay an isunderstanding may."
The two shook hands and began walking down the corridor. "Ah reckon ah ken take ya' to the bridge", Powell said, enunciating his words to aid the alien's translation. He looked back to where
Dug waged a heated argument with himself. "It's gown be a whall 'til they're done anyhow."
