Read Troy Rising 2 - Citadel for Free Online Page B

said, “you will be sedated, decanted and wake up in recovery. You will then be given your final check and a ticket back to whatever miserable hole you crawled out of. There is no appeal. You pass the ECET or you don't. Period. We will be taking four at a time. I would suggest that those of you who are not called at first study your test question booklets. Allen, Armstead, Ashline and Beckett.”
    Damn.
    “Good morning, Mr. Allen. Are you comfortable?”
    Just my luck I get fracking Monaghan. As to the question, the grab-goo was pressing on his chest so he could barely breathe. But since he liked confined spaces . . .
    “Just fine, thanks, Mr. Monaghan,” Butch said. “It's sort of comfy.”
    One of Butch's favorite games growing up was hide and seek. As the runt of three brothers, it gave him some time when he wasn't getting pounded on. It was amazing the spaces you could squeeze into with a little will.
    “List all the major parts of the navopak of a Mark Fourteen Space suit,” Mr. Monaghan said.
    “Recycler . . .”
    “In alphabetical order. Take your time . . .”
    Butch wasn't sure how long he'd been in the tank but he was sure the recyclers were messing up. He wasn't getting enough breathable and he was getting a carb panic. The CO2 was up.
    “I've got a picture of your sister here,” Mr. Monaghan said. “Cute. Clarissa is it?”
    “I've got a sister named Clarissa, Mr. Monaghan.”
    “So why'd you have a naked picture of her on your iPod, Butch? Don't you know that's child pornography.”
    “I don't have one, Mr. Monaghan,” Butch said.
    “Well, I'm looking at one,” Mr. Monaghan said. “Cute. Nice little picture. Nice girl. You think she's hot?”
    “She's six you sick bastard!” Butch said.
    “She's six Mr. Monaghan,” Mr. Monaghan said.
    “Anybody that talks about a guy's six year old sister like that don't deserve the title Mister, Mister.”
    “Do you want to pass the course, Butch?” Mr. Monaghan said, mildly.
    “Yes,” Butch said.
    “So, repeat after me. You are a sick bastard, Mr. Monaghan.”
    “You are a sick bastard, Mr. Monaghan,” Butch snarled.
    “And then there's . . . Susie. Beautiful hair. Both ends.”
    Butch snarled and ground his teeth but didn't say anything.
    “She's really blossoming, don't you think, Butch? I require a response, Butch.”
    “I have a sister named Susie,” Butch said. “And you don't have a naked picture of her. Or Clarissa.”
    “Susie, I note, has a mole on her butt,” Mr. Monaghan said. “So, yes, I am currently looking at a picture of your naked sister. Your naked, twelve year-old . . .”
    “I still don't think you've got a picture,” Butch said.
    “She's probably got Johannsen's with hair like that,” Monahan said. “If you catch them at just the right time, girls like that are just putty in your hands . . .”
    “When I get out of here I'm going to rip your head off and shit in your neck,” Butch said. “Mister Monaghan.”
    “That would cause you to fail the course, Butch,” Mr. Monaghan said, in that same mild tone.
    “Screw the course,” Butch said. “You don't go around looking at pictures of a guy's sister. You don't talk about popping 'em. And you sure as hell don't tell him about it.”
    “How's he doing?” Monahan asked, looking over at the vitals tech.
    “Angry, that's for sure,” the tech said. “But his heart rate and BP aren't up all that much. He's balancing as well as he can. Or he's just a natural.”
    “You're not going to top him on this track,” the psychologist said. She was monitoring all four tests and making suggestions.
    “It's his main hot-point,” Monahan said. “He's very protective of his sisters.”
    “It will require counseling,” the psych said. “He's marginal. He's very wrapped up in that emotional attachment. I'd say you've gone about as far as you can. I'd also say that with some training he's a pass. That's my professional opinion.”
    “Concur,” Monahan said.
    “Okay,