AN: I have been grinding away all week. I decided to take enough of a break to post the next chapter.

7. If Everything were All Right, We’d Be In Jail

Wash returned to the small bunker that served Balch and himself and a handful of the mine’s workers as office space, and was immediately accosted by the Foreman.

“Where you been, Professor?”

“Went out to the number three line,” Wash said, putting his datapad down on the small desk he’d been assigned. “I wanted to check the numbers for myself.”

Balch frowned, looking Wash up and down. “Number three line’s been giving me fits for months.”

“I bet,” Wash said. “According to my numbers, you’re using more fuel and producing a lot less ore on three than on either of the other two lines. I just wanted to make sure the numbers were accurate. I mean, they’re so far off, I thought maybe they were just recorded wrong.”

Balch turned back toward his office, motioning for Wash to follow. “Ain’t wrong. You sure you ought to be out in the sun so much?”

“Well, actually, they were wrong,” Wash said. “Actually, it’s worse than the numbers I was given. And if I’m going to check the numbers myself, I kind of have to go out in the sun. Is there ever anything but sun on this rock?”

Balch’s face fell at Wash’s information. He sat at his desk and rummaged through a drawer. “I don’t suppose you got any clever ideas for fixing the problem?” he said.

“Well,” Wash replied, “I don’t know a whole lot about machines, but they do run better when you put the fuel cells in right-way-round. So I fixed that much, at least.” He’d never been in Balch’s office; Balch always kept the door closed and locked. Not for the map of the mine that covered one wall, Wash guessed, and which was layered with so much grime as to be illegible; nor for the bookcase filled with machine parts, knickknacks and dusty mugs; nor even for Balch’s desk, which was nearly empty. Probably, Balch kept his office secured because of the broadwave console inst