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“Ah,” he said. And, “Hm.” Shuffle shuffle shuffle. “Camouflaged base camp. Camouflaged hide. Camouflaged clothing?”
“All the better to avoid any predators, should they be present,” she sang.
“Mrrmmph…” shuffle shuffle. “Hu'lu'a is sending most of this nonsense anyway. For science,” pronounced, something hated I must tolerate for the greater good. “We will deploy the basics and send clean food by drone. You will record all aspects of life on Toxic Island bar the normal,” eating, ablution, and assorted waste disposal, “and you will refrain from any and all forms of vainglory.”
“Understood and obeyed,” T'reka bobbed. She would only refer to herself as T'reka the Inquisitive in her private and personal journal. For everything else, she was T'reka the Mad.
She watched with bated breath as he lined up the papers anew. And only breathed out when the stamp of approval descended on each and every page.
“You may go forth and commit science,” pronounced, disgusting thing I no longer have to be involved with. “We will send the details to your domicile.”
T'reka only dared breathe properly after she shut the door behind herself.
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[WARNING: Owing to time constraints, you may only be able to get the version with a pending ISBN. I apologise for this lapse and shall endeavour not to cut it so darn close next time.]
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