Troy Rising 2 - Citadel by John Ringo Read Free Book Online

Butch, we're letting you out, now,” Monahan said. “We're also going to up your O2 and get rid of some of that carb. When you come out, you can take a swing at me or we can talk. Your call. Take the swing and you're going home to see your sisters.”
    “Sit, Butch,” Monahan said, tossing the probationary trainee a half full pack of Marlboros. “As long as you were in the tank you could probably use a smoke.”
    “Thought there was no smoking in the building,” Butch said, still glaring.
    “There are rules and rules,” Mr. Monahan said, shrugging. "They're waived under certain conditions. Get the nic fit under control so we can talk. To start, no, I never had a picture of your sisters. I am, in fact, a very sick bastard. But not on duty.
    “The next question at the top of your head is did you pass. The answer is . . . sort of. You got all the fixed answers solid. You did your homework, that's obvious.”
    “Thank you, sir,” Butch said, his jaw working.
    “But you need to get that temper under control,” Mr. Monahan said. “There's a time and a place for it. But if you get put on a crew they're going to test you. They won't have all the information we have, but they'll wiggle it out of you. And they'll find your hot points. And they'll poke. They test the hell out of the FNGs that come up there, much harder than we can here. The best I could do was talk dirty about your sisters. They'll find a picture of one of them, Photoshop it onto a real piece of child porn and stick it in your locker just before you go on shift. Then call the nosies to tell them you've got child porn in your locker.”
    “That's sick,” Butch said.
    “They are, we are, a very sick crew,” Mr. Monahan said, still in that same mild tone. “There's actually a reason for it. The same reason we do it here. You know about the ninety day probationary period and the penalties for failure if you don't pass it?”
    For the first ninety days of actual work, the trainee was on “hard probation.” They could be dismissed with our without cause. And they owed the full cost of their training, preparation and suit, nearly three quarters of a million dollars. It was more money than Butch could ever repay and one of the tiny little codicils in the contract he'd barely read.
    You could quit at any point in training and not owe a dime. But once you got implants and a suit, the company owned you.
    “What is not mentioned in the contract,” Mr. Monahan said, "is that every crew has the right of refusal over a new member. Oh, they don't abuse it. There's just too much damned work. But if two crews refuse to work with you, you get dismissed. And then you owe more money than you're ever going to see in your life.
    “They are, in fact, the final test. They don't want to work with anybody that can't hack it. Their lives depend on you being able to keep your cool, no matter what. So they're going to push and push and push and push, looking for a weak point. Your protectiveness of your sisters is admirable. I did have pictures of them, but only fully clothed. They are lovely young ladies and you are blessed to have them in your life. The crews are going to take that admirable emotion and rip it to shreds. That is why you are still considered marginal. You can probably hack the actual physical aspects of space work. The emotional part is your weak point.”
    “So what do I do?” Butch said. The smoke was helping and he was smart enough to see what Mr. Monahan was driving at. It made sense in a sick sort of way. He figured once he was a full tech, he was probably going to do the same thing. You didn't want somebody who was a hot-head holding a laser that could cut through the suit of the guy next to him.
    “There are various techniques,” Mr. Monahan said. “Deflection: ‘Yep, she's hot.' One-upmanship: ‘Yeah, Susie's a nice piece. Unlike your wife.' Rolling with it. That, however, can make you look like a wuss and they'll be wondering when you're