Emmanuel Lancaster was not a happy man.

Some people… the idiots… might have attributed that to the fact that he was a human running a Reploid refugee camp. Those who knew him a tiny bit better would attribute it to general hatred of all living things. They would be much closer to the truth.

Emmanuel, or Manny as his friends called him, was a logistics expert. In his opinion, his profession was the most essential and least appreciated in the known world. It was his job to carefully plan ahead, arranging the shipments of food, the electrical system, the chemical toilets… and deal with any problems as the came. And sure as death and taxes, there were always problems.

It was also part of his job to deal with complaints. And that was what had him quietly swearing. His assistant, a short, tiny Reploid girl in red and gold armor, her hair held up by gold barrettes, stepped out of the trailer they were using as a temporary HQ. She paused, watching her boss for a moment.

Manny was middle aged, with dark hair beginning to grow grey, and a small beer belly. He was still fairly good-looking, though, and was excellent company when he was relaxed and off-duty. Neither of which was true right now. She wished she could go right back into the trailer and let him work off steam by himself.

Alas, she had a job to do, and it was going to make his job harder. She squared her shoulders, and walked over. Manny quickly spotted her.

"Swift, do you know why I volunteered for this job?" He asked, as she fell in beside him obediently.

"You didn't want to organize the camp in Africa, boss?" Their choices had been a bit limited, and she was guessing this one had been the most attractive. But Manny shook his head.

"No, well, yeah, but that wasn't the main idea. I picked this one because it's a Reploid camp." Swift tilted her head in a questioning gesture. Being a listener for Manny's gripes was an unofficial part of her job description. Whenever it annoyed her, she just reminded herself that if he quit, she'd immediately be promoted to his position. That made her patient again. "I thought Reploids couldn't possibly be as difficult as humans. All the complaints about the tents, the food, the water… the goddamn chemical toilets… Reploids just had to be easier."

"You poor, innocent fool," Swift said sympathetically, and Manny grinned sourly.

"Tell me about it. These people are finding just as many ways to drive me nuts as the damned human camps. Jesus, if I get one more request to use the rechargers, someone's going to get this clipboard down their throat!" Manny sighed, writing another note on his clipboard. "We made Reploids, right? Why, why couldn't we have made them better?"

"Um. Well, I hate to make your day even more joyful, boss, but you mentioned the rechargers?" Manny shot Swift a suspicious glance. "3 and 8 are out. We're not sure why."

"Oh, Christ." The rechargers were meant to be used by the essential Reploid staff who were manning the camp… especially the Army types guarding it. Which was why the civilian Reploids inside the camp weren't allowed to use them. They had barely enough for just the essential personnel. If two of them were out… "Tell me we're getting the technicians soon."

"Sorry, boss. They're still at Camp 4. They won't get here until next week, unless we make a priority call." Manny cursed heartily. If they made a call, people would be peeved that he was pulling the techs away from other essential duties.

"Jesus." Manny drummed his fingers against the clipboard, then turned to look at the camp. "We'll have to do a cattle call. This is gonna be fun." A cattle call was when they made an announcement, searching for someone with the right skills to help out. It was never easy to do, and was usually held back as a last resort. But calling the techs ahead of schedule would screw things up even more.

"Right, boss. I'll go get it started." Swift quickly walked away, serene with the conviction that if anyone caught hell, it wouldn't be her.

There was something to be said for being an assistant.

"There you go, there you go!" The small Reploid scampered out. It wasn't humanoid at all, and looked like a half-human sized, armored mouse. But instead of paws, it had long, clever hands and a knack for dealing with recalcitrant machines. "They should be working now. Try them, try them!" The mouse sat up, grooming her whiskers with her paws/hands. Manny waved at Swift, who nodded and sent power to the recharger units.

The gentle hum of active, working units was music to their ears. Swift grinned, and even Manny looked pleased.

"So, what's your name?" Manny asked pleasantly, and the mouse waved its tail proudly.

"I'm Minnie!" He wrote that down, and ticked the female box without asking. With that name and the mouse theme, there really wasn't much question. Although it was likely that 'she' was actually sexless. Most fully animal style Reploids were. Then the little Reploid scampered back to one of the rechargers, and touched it longingly. "Can I have a rest…?" Many Reploids much preferred using the recharge units, rather than sleeping. It took less time and left them feeling far more refreshed. Also, they did not dream, and after suffering a huge Maverick attack and being driven out of Earthsaver II, not many of the refugees wanted to dream.

"Sure you can," Swift jumped in with a warm smile. "But only because you're working for us right now, okay?" The mouse nodded, and promptly opened the cover and scampered inside, settling in blissfully. Manny made a note by the mouse's name. Letting any refugee use the units was against the rules, but since Minnie had done work for them, it was technically allowable. He'd have to write it up in the report.

"Well, that's one problem taken care of." Manny said, then groaned. "Oh for gods sake. What's wrong now?" Someone was sprinting towards them. The runner skidded to a halt, almost falling as he hit a patch of mud.

"Boss! The transport truck with the fuel cells broke down. They won't be here until tomorrow, maybe the day after."

"Oh crap!" He exchanged glances with Swift. "Will our equipment last that long?" They had been working the fuel cells heavily, confident that more would be coming. She pursed her lips.

"They will if we put them on minimum load. That'll mean shutting off the lights to the camp, though." Swift said, and Manny grimaced.

"Wonderful!" He flipped over the paper on his clipboard, and sourly started writing something else. Swift blinked as she saw it… it looked like a grid of some kind.

"What are you doing, sir?" She couldn't figure it out. Manny looked up with a sour grin.

"Starting a pool on how many complaints we'll get about that. Want to place a bet? Twenty? Thirty?"

"Forty-four." She said promptly. "How much?"

"Just a buck." She nodded and passed over the money. Manny quickly noted her name and her target… then wrote himself in, with the target of fifty. He was sure that by the end of the day, all the support staff and most of the Army types would be in play for their own wild guesses. And whoever was closest would get the money.

It was one of the few amusements they could get around here.

As it turned out, the complaints topped out at twenty-eight, and Minnie won the prize. She'd joined in four hours later, fresh out of the recharger. Forty dollars richer, she'd scampered back to her tent in the camp, although not before offering her help if they had any problems in the future. If something came up again, they would probably take her up on that.

Now it was nighttime, and Manny was finally asleep, along with all the other support staff… except for Swift. She was on the roof of the trailer, looking up at the stars. Without the camp lights on, they were clear as crystal and just as beautiful.

"Cassiopia," she murmured, finding the constellation. "Persius. The Big Dipper…" Swift sighed. A long time ago, she'd wanted to be an astronomer. But there weren't many jobs for astronomers, these days.

For a long time, she enjoyed the stars, and smiled as some banter from the Army guard position drifted to her. Finally, she slipped back into the trailer, to find her mattress and get some sleep.

She might not be following her dream, but she was doing something worthwhile. That was more than enough.