Shorter Human: “Is that the last of them? Did they all make it to the shuttles?”
Taller Human: [squinting]: “Looks like it. How many did you sign?”
Shorter Human: “Eleven.”
Taller Human: “What?! We were only supposed to approve organic sentients for this mission…”
Shorter Human: “Look, we get commission for every bunk that gets filled and I need the money.”
Taller Human [aghast]: “How many murderbots did you send aboard that ship? Two? Three??”
Shorter Human: “I think the preferred term is ‘cyborg’. And yes, I approved all three. They might wind up being assets on this journey. Or they might kill everyone. Not my cybermonkeys, not my space circus.”
Taller Human: “But the little girl in the princess outfit? Surely you just accepted her application in good humor, right?”
Shorter Human [deadpans]: “You’re new to Charybdis, aren’t you?”
