At the end of a hot day under a sun far bluer than Sol, the work party was finally called in. One of the guards pulled me aside and rumbled, “You, human Brooks, go Warden.”
The Warden was waiting for me. “Your period of servitude is over. Time off for leading work party and general good behavior has been applied. Your debt is paid, and you have five thousand credits of savings from bonuses. Crawler will take you to town in twenty shorts.”
I started crying. I don’t know what the Warden thought was wrong with me. He looked uncomfortable.
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