Ethan was positively bristling with anger. First he had to deal with Kenna (who he didn't actually hate, but it would be best if she didn't know that) and then with the leaders wanting to kill aliens.
Sure, he hated the blue guys' guts, but he meant what he said when he said he'd never kill. Or watch it, for that matter. Ethan stood a few people behind Kenna, who was talking to that woman Brook. The chore line inched slowly forward as John (who'd been on Chore Tree duty all week) tried to find everyone's names. The poor guy had lost his glasses on their first day in the wilderness, and he was almost blind without them. He refused to let anyone help him, and spent five minutes per-person with his face two three inches away from the tree.
Brook leaned in to say something to Kenna, who glanced behind her at Ethan and nodded.
"Hold my spot," Brook said. She marched back to where Ethan was standing and crossed her arms. "You Ethan?"
Ethan didn't reply.
"I've been talking to Kenna, and it seems like you're not a very nice person."
He stared at her impassibly.
"According to her, you insult her because of her money and how she looks. She hasn't done anything to you except be herself. You learn some manners and then you can talk to her. The poor girl's been through some tough shit lately."
"No more shit than the rest of us have been through. And somehow she's still a stuck-up princess," Ethan replied lowly.
Brook sniffed. "You don't have the problems that she has. I'm not gonna tell you because I don't think you have the right to know. You stay away from her until you think long and hard about the right way to treat people." Brook strode away back to her spot.
"What did you say?" Kenna whispered.
"Just told him what I thought. He shouldn't be bothering you too much now."
"Thanks, Brook."
"Us girls have to stay together," Brook replied and clapped Kenna on the back.
The rest of the day passed slowly, everyone waiting in anticipation for the debate after dinner. Ethan chore list had consisted of one thing: Doc's assistant. It was one of the most hated jobs of them all. Doc, real name unknown, was fascinated with the planet they were on and was the only one who called it by its real name. He would go out, catch as animal, observe it, and then dissect it. Sometimes, it was rumored, he wouldn't even kill the animal first. How rumors started in under a week, Ethan didn't know, but he hoped that Doc would just stick to water samples and uprooting plants today. Even so, Doc's blanket-tent (set aside only for science) at the edge of camp always smelled like blood.
Unfortunately there was no such luck.
"Fascinating," Doc muttered. He stuck his pencil into the cage, and the creature inside yelped in surprise. "Evan, hand me that flashlight."
"Ethan," Ethan corrected. He slapped the light into the awaiting hand.
Doc muttered something and went back to studying the creature. It was long — about the length of a high-school desk, but as narrow as Ethan's (fairly large) forearm. It was fluffy and off-white with four clawed paws and a face that reminded Ethan of a ferret. It was a space-ferret. The space-ferret hissed under the light, and showed off a set of sharp upper teeth.
"Shit," Ethan said.
"Fascinating," Doc corrected. "Look at these. Razor sharp. They have to be because this creatures jaw is so weak. Get me my camera, Edward."
"Ethan."
"Camera."
Ethan snatched the camera off the table and handed it to Doc.
"Doc?"
The other made a noncommittal noise and he snapped pictures. The space-ferret hissed.
"What kind of doctor are you?"
"Oh, all kinds. Now hush, it's time for a video."
After a few minutes passed as Doc narrated as he prodded the space-ferret. Then he snapped the camera closed.
"Now we only need to dissect," Doc said.
"Fun," Ethan rolled his eyes. I should have stayed in Europe.
"Of course," Doc replied. "Ah, but first. I have come to like naming my findings before dissecting. And as I have been doing these past days, shall name it after my assistant."
"You're naming the space-ferret after me?" Ethan asked incredulously.
Doc thought for a moment. "Spaceferretus Emanuelius."
"My name is Ethan."
"Ethanicus. Now, hand me the scalpel, if you will."
"Aren't you going to kill it?"
"Emil, you can't look at something completely new and get a full feel for what it is if it's dead."
"That's sick," Ethan growled.
"It's necessary."
"You can get the damn scalpel yourself." Ethan marched away from Doc's workstation. He glanced up into the lime-green sky, and mumbled with more ferocity than ever: "I should have stayed in Europe."
