Ray

[gone_byebye]

"Yo, Rho!"

"I keep telling you, Sleeb," Ray said without looking up from the design terminal, "I'm not Rho. I'm Ray."

"Same difference," said the Worm.

"You got mad when I called you Neeble."

"Yeah, you humans. . ." Sleeb muttered something Ray didn't spare the brain cells to comprehend. "Hey, you listening to me? Food time! Eat!"

"Huh?" Ray pushed away from the machine. "Didn't we just have lunch?"

"Hours ago. You gotta get out more!" Sleeb hopped down from the desk, trotting across the floor, pausing now and again to gesture impatiently. "C'mon!"

Ray rolled his eyes and got up to follow the Worm. "You guys make really crummy lunch, you know that?"

"You gotta problem? Send out for Chinese."

They rounded the corner and stopped; Agent P was waiting in the center of the hallway, arms crossed, feet apart. Ray blinked. "Something wrong, sir?"

P held up a single finger. No, not that one.

Ray and Sleeb exchanged glances. Eventually, P cleared his throat and lifted his head.

"It would seem," P said, with the struggling air of an actor reading a horrible script, "that we're out of time."

"Oh, oh," said Sleeb, skittering towards the wall. Ray blinked, and almost said Out of time for what?, but P held up the finger again. This time he pointed it at Ray.

"Zedd was satisfied enough with your performance on the target range to clear you for-" A muscle rippled along the side of P's jaw, as if the big, burly fellow were gritting his teeth. "-Active field duty."

Ray risked a glance at Sleeb. The worm was flattened against the wall and looking like he wished he were a Chamelloid.

"Oh, oh," said Ray.

"Oh oh is right," P answered. "Come on. We got a Korilian on the rampage."

"Where?"

"Columbus Circle."

"Oh hell."

"Yeah."

They started off down the hall together; Ray glanced over his shoulder. Sleeb was waving. "Yo, Sleeb!" he called out. "Make sure Zedd gets those diagrams, okay?"

"You got it, Rho!"

"My name's- oh, never mind."

The Worm beamed and scampered off. Ray scrambled to catch up with P. "Uh, quick question before we go any further-"

"You can eat lunch in the car. You're not allergic to Tolasian squirtpacks, are you?"

"Would someone have told me if I was? That's not the question."

"No?'

"No. Um, I can't help noticing that most of you guys have Roman-alphabet designations. How come mine-"

P sighed. "I wasn't here when he got recruited," he said, "but I'm told there was a…. problem…. with the original."

"What, there was already an R in your organization?"

"No."

"Some kind of taboo or objection?"

"No."

"Then what?"

The muscle rippled again. "Apparently," he said, "he didn't take it seriously."

Ray blinked. "I don't see how-"

"Zedd doesn't like it when agents insist on introducing themselves as "Agent Arrrrrrr"."

It was everything Ray could do not to burst into laughter.

"Yeah, about that? Don't pull that in public. C'mon, we need to get you a sidearm."