Alpharius sat in the shadows, looking at the shocking bloody welts across Eli's back.
His mind raced once more.
Taking punishment for someone else? In a model of exchanged interests, that was an utterly irrational act with a "negative return." Why would he do it?
Was he trying to burden me with enormous guilt so he could demand a greater reward later? Such as making me take the blame for a crime that might carry a death sentence?
Yes, that had to be it. Seemingly uncouth mortals like him often concealed the most cunning street wisdom.
"Thank you... Eli. I'll repay you someday, I promise," Alpharius said in a timid voice filled with gratitude.
"Repay me, my ass!" Eli rolled his eyes in irritation. "Just be a little sharper next time, kid. Stop copying the 'tons' in agricultural output as 'grams,' and that'll be repayment enough. Get to sleep! We have to be up early tomorrow!"
Alpharius silently lay down on his shabby synthetic bed.
Soon, he thought.
In another two days, every disguise would be torn away. Faced with a genuine life-or-death crisis, these mortals' so-called "solidarity between coworkers" would turn to ash in an instant, like thin paper struck by a lasgun.
He would clearly record the moment Eli, driven by despair and the need to survive, revealed his ugly true colors. It would make the most vivid case study in his flawless test report.
The stress test arrived without warning one afternoon, three days later.
At the time, more than thirty scribes were mechanically moving their quills through the stifling air of the archives.
Sitting beside Eli, Alpharius lightly tapped his fingers against the edge of a brass dataslate, entering a string of gibberish that only the deep code of the Adeptus Mechanicus could decipher.
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