out

The anger he’d held down for years threatened to surface. It wouldn’t do to vent it on Doc if he still had a chance to get away. But he couldn’t keep the resentment out of his voice. “It’s not my fault. You’re to blame.”
“Explain yourself.”
“Ten years I’ve worked for the Foundation. Every year I apply to be a full associate. Every year you turn me down, keep me chained in this hole.” He gestured at Jean-Pierre and the rest. “I could have been one of them, but you just wanted me to keep their cars running. I’m as good as they are. She—” he pointed at Gaby “—is here less than a week, and already you’re talking about taking her on, too. What about me?” His voice cracked on the last word.
“No doubt you’ve told this to others. At a pub, say, after hours.”
Fergus didn’t answer.
“And, no doubt, one day you found a friend in Goodsir Moon. He bought you drinks and told you, yes, you are as good as they are, but they hate you and laugh at you.”
Fergus felt a flicker of confusion. That was exactly what had happened. “Maybe.”
“They don’t deserve