Commanding the Cleanest Space Station Ever
A pounding at the door interrupted the placid scrape of the razor against his jaw.
Lewis gnashed his teeth and slapped the razor against the edge of the sink before rinsing it. It could only be Nick. No matter how many times he explained to Nick not to disturb him in the bathroom—that “shower time” is “ME time”—the little twerp always found an excuse to bang on the door. Or the wall. Or the shared wall from the next room. On the one occasion Lewis had dared to ignore him, the lunatic had crawled into the maintenance duct that ran under the bathroom and banged on the pipes.
And it was usually always the same question.
“Nicky, I’ll go over this one last time. It’s not that hard.” He rubbed the steam from the mirror so he could see to trim his sideburns. “You probably just hit the button too many times again and canceled it. Start over. If the screen is blue, just do what we talked about: hold down the power button until it restarts. And this time, read what the words say before clicking anything. No extra clicks. Got it?”
Nick didn’t answer, and instead the pounding resumed.
“Dang it, Nicky!” Lewis threw his blade into the sink and yanked open the door.
That’s when it first occurred to him that Nick knocked in sets of threes, and this knock had been an insistent five.
“Commander Burn?” The petite young woman waiting on the other side of the door—who was not Nick—seemed to think there was nothing unusual about disturbing the station’s commander from a leisurely shave.
The steam escaping the tiny bathroom fogged her black-rimmed glasses, but otherwise didn’t dare disturb her carefully pressed skirt and blindingly white blouse, nor what had once been her hair, but hairspray had hardened into chocolate-colored concrete. She looked at him expectantly, unaffected by his annoyance, and it irked him in an odd way that she seemed oblivious to the fact that he was completely naked.
“Uh….yes?” Lewis fumbled to retrieve his towel from the edge of the sink. Not even taking the time to unfold it, he just held it over his more intimate parts.
She saluted smartly. “Amanda Insing, reporting for duty.”
“Insing?” He wracked his brain. Yes, there was supposed to be an Insing coming in today. What time was it? And why was she here? “Er…this is a highly…unusual” …inappropriate… “place to be meeting your new commander.”
“Sir, my orders were to check in with you immediately upon arrival,” she informed him, her posture at a rigid attention.
“This isn’t a military installation.”
“But sir, with all due respect, we still have rules and regulations,” she reminded him. “Without such rules, it would be chaos.”
“Jeeze, lady, at ease! All right, I got it.” He could already see why she was sent here. He sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose, aghast that someone so pretty would be so uptight. “Rules good. Chaos bad. I get it. Now get out of here.” Her mouth opened to object. “I’ll meet— er, I’ll debrief you in the conference room. After I put some clothes on.” She nodded, but didn’t move. “Um, you’re dismissed?”
She straightened up. He hadn’t realized she could get any straighter. “Thank you, sir.” She turned on her heel and marched down the hall.
With the door closed and emphatically locked, he leaned against the sink and stared at his own reflection. He couldn’t tell if he actually looked tired, or just felt it. How much more could he take?
His fist shook as he resisted the urge to throw a punch at the mirror. It sucked to be the one in control all the time.
With great effort, he relaxed his hand. As satisfying as a good hit might be, certain individuals of his crew would freak if they found a hole smashed in a wall. Then they would bicker about whether it was better to have the hole covered up to restore “balance,” or if they needed to make two more holes on either side. But then someone else would argue that that’s not right, because it has to be an even number of holes….
And she would be one of them. Just one more nut he’d have to deal with. Stupid of him to hope for any actual help. Insing’s resume had sounded so promising, but there was only one reason a person was sent here.
Ah; there was the familiar three-stroke knock.
“Not now, Nick.”
“But it’s important.” Nick’s nasal whine seemed especially grating today. “Please?”
Fully dressed and with Nick practically stepping on his heels—who had, it turned out, knocked for the same reason he always knocks—Lewis entered the conference room where Amanda Insing waited. After their first meeting, he wasn’t at all surprised to find her standing at attention, ignoring the comfortable chairs in the room. And the chairs were comfortable. After one of the hypochondriac engineers had developed a “rash” from the hard plastic chairs furnishing the entire station, Lewis had ordered them all replaced with an assortment of comfortable and “hypoallergenic” ones. A chair rash hadn’t broken out since.
“At ease, Insing,” Lewis ordered in vain. “Allow me to introduce Nick, my First Officer.”
“Hi.” Nick endured her handshake just long enough to be polite before snatching his hand back and immediately turning to leave.
“Nick, aren’t you going to welcome her?” Lewis suggested, watching with a certain amount of perverse pleasure as little Nick squirmed at the thought of further social interaction.
“I have to go wash my hands,” Nick said by way of explanation, holding them up and spreading his fingers wide as proof. Without another word, he backed through the door, careful not to let his skin come in contact with any shared surface.
“What’s his problem?” Amanda Insing asked with all the emotion of a rock. Her blank expression didn’t give a clue as to whether she was indifferent or genuinely annoyed at this rudeness.
“You’ll get used to it, Amanda,” Lewis assured her. “Or do you prefer Mandy?”
“I’d prefer to be addressed by my last name,” she informed him curtly.
“Of course do you.” He gestured to a chair. “Have a seat. Relax. Make yourself comfortable. Let me tell you a little about this…special station on which you find yourself.” She complied, though still resolutely refused to bend her spine, determined not to be relaxed nor comfortable. Her glasses didn’t even dare to slip down her nose.
Lewis felt no such restraint and propped his boots up on the conference table. He had received many a lecture about the number of germs shoes can carry, but he was confident someone would be by to disinfect the room before the day was done. It would probably even be done twice.
“Do you know why you were sent here?” he asked her.
“No, sir.” They usually didn’t.
“This is Communications Relay Station 512B,” Lewis started to explain.
“I know that, sir.” He frowned at the interruption. “I read the station’s manual on the trip.”
“Of course you did. Let me finish.” Lewis took his time clearing his throat. “Good old CRS 512B is a little… out of the way. We get plenty of communication traffic, but other than that we’re pretty isolated out here. As I’m sure you’ve noticed.”
She said nothing, waiting patiently for him to make his point.
“That’s on purpose.” He removed his feet from the table and leaned toward her, dropping his voice. “This is where they send all the loons.”
“Excuse me?” A small furrow had formed where her eyebrows drew together. For someone who tried so hard to look serious, it must have been frustrating to look so cute.
“This entire CRS is filled with personnel nobody else wants to deal with,” he elaborated. “At worst, they’re incompetent; at best, neurotic. No one violent. But every annoying individual employed by Earth’s Space Communications Program ends up here.”
Her adorable little frown deepened. “Then why am I here?”
They always asked that.
“Because,” he told her, “somebody needs to know what they’re doing. There has to be at least one person in this can of maniacs who can keep things running.” And that was what he always answered.
“I see.” The frown smoothed away and she absorbed this information without a glimmer of feeling, without giving him the slightest hint of what she was thinking.
“Now, tell me a little about yourself.” Lewis pulled out his personnel roster, his pencil poised to scribble her name into an empty space. “What’s your specialty?”
“Security,” she replied. “I keep order.”
“Of course you do.” That was a new one. He scratched out a couple of lines to make an extra column and dubbed it Security. Three years, and this was the first security officer he had been sent. “What are your qualifications?”
“I am trained in various forms of combat,” she recited. “I know every security manual and standard operating procedure of five organizations—including the Communications Program, of course. You’ll see my recommendations are exemplary.”
He took a moment to glance through said recommendations, and he had to admit, they were—at first glance. Having met her, he now understood what was meant when her superiors called her “disciplined” and “by-the-book.” What was beginning to worry him was their descriptions of her “enthusiasm for her work” and her “eagerness to restore order.” He made a mental note not to give her any weapons.
“I assume you have a military background?” he asked.
“No, sir. I’ve applied on several occasions, but never seemed to make it past the psych test.” Her disciplined mask slipped and her shoulders slumped as a thought dawned on her. “Am I here because I’m crazy?” she warbled, her voice rising in pitch.
Oh boy. “No, no!” he assured her. Was she about to cry? He didn’t think he’d be able to handle the tragedy of watching a pretty girl cry. “Absolutely not. You’re not crazy. This has nothing to do with military psych evaluations.”
With visible relief, she straightened up again. She wiped her eyes, and only a second later she had composed herself, neutral expression back in place. Jeeze, this lady’s moods swung like kids on a playground. “I am ready to administer order in this facility, sir. I have memorized the rulebook, and–”
“Whoa, whoa, wait a minute.” That raised a whole new set of problems. “Insing, I think we’re going to need to go over some of those rules together.”
“Why?” she asked, her eyebrows leaping above the top rim of her glasses in surprise. “The regulations are clear and straight-forward, and must be enforced. I don’t see what there would be to talk about.”
“Ehhhhhh…yeah.” How could he put this? “I already told you this CRS has some unique…personalities. And they have some very unique needs.”
“That doesn’t exempt them from following the rules,” she said flatly.
“You know what? Why don’t you get your manual,” he said soothingly, “and I’ll show you what I mean. These are some special circumstances. I believe there’s some rule about… special circumstances…and the judgment of the commander…something like that?”
“I’m not sure Article 12, section 5 applies in this case,” she disagreed.
“Well, let’s look it up together, shall we?” He held up a hand to stop her protests. “I know you can probably quote it to me verbatim, but let’s just look it over together. Humor me.”
“Yes, sir.” She rose to her feet. “I will change into more suitable work attire and be back to...discuss…this further with you.”
“Take your time,” he encouraged her. Instead of turning to leave, she just stood there. “What?”
“You haven’t dismissed me, sir,” Insing pointed out.
“Fine! Dismissed!” This was going to be fun. “And stop calling me sir!” he called after her, which he was pretty sure she ignored.
“Commander to the Control Room,” a panicked voice called over the intercom. “Commander to the Control Room!”
He sighed. Another “emergency,” he was sure. What, did someone splash spaghetti sauce on their tie? Again?
To his surprise, a live transmission awaited him when he entered the Control Room.
“Commander!” A twitching, frazzled Nick ran up to him. “Commander! A Landian ship is above us, and—“
“Actually, there is no above in space,” someone corrected him.
“And their Colonel is on the line for you!” Nick dropped his voice to a terrified whisper. “I think they’re going to attack!”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Lewis sighed. “No one is going to attack us. They have no reason to.” Nick usually blew things out of proportion. Then again, Lewis couldn’t think of any reason for a Landian ship to be here.
He plopped down into his chair and punched up the communiqué. “Commander Burn here.”
“This is Colonel Fritter of the Landian Fleet,” a raspy voice said. “We are declaring war on Earth. Please relay this message to your superiors and prepare to be fired upon.”
“What?!”
Immediately, the first shot rocked the station. Cries of surprise and fear rose around him.
“Do what he says,” Lewis ordered. “Contact Earth, now, and advise them of our situation. Colonel! Please, listen to reason, there’s no benefit to be gained by—“
The second shot knocked out the lights. Emergency lights blinked into life, but then kept blinking: red, then darkness. Red again, then black. Each time they flashed off, a man somewhere screeched in terror.
“Someone strangle whoever is screaming!” Lewis ordered. “Did you send the message to Earth yet?”
“Message sent.”
“It’s Martin who’s screaming,” Nick whispered to him. Lewis had forgotten the Head Electrician was afraid of the dark.
“Martin, shut up and get the lights back on!” he ordered as the red lights blinked again. “Someone get the man a flashlight! Colonel, are you there?” He depressed the transmission button. “Colonel, we surrender! Cease fire, we surrender!” They were not at all equipped to deal with an attack.
“A wise choice,” the Colonel croaked. Lewis held his breath, but a third shot was not fired.
The screams with every blackout were beginning to scrape Lewis’ last nerve when the Electrician’s Assistant finally brought the lights back to life.
“Thank you,” he sighed. This was not how he expected the day to turn out.
“We will be down shortly to take control of the facility,” the Colonel informed him.
“Uh, I wouldn’t advise that,” Lewis told him. “I don’t know if you know anything about this particular station, but we’re probably not the one you want to start with. We don’t want any trouble, and we’ll be happy to convey any communications that you’d want, but I think upsetting the daily routine here would be just asking for it. My personnel would make terrible prisoners.”
“I thought you had surrendered.” Colonel Fritter sounded confused. “We will use whatever means are necessary to secure this station.”
“No, no, that’s not what I mean,” Lewis assured him. “We’re happy to cooperate. Let’s just say…this place is two shrinks short of an asylum. Get what I mean?”
“I do not,” the Colonel rasped coldly. “We will arrive within half an hour. We’ll take the station by force, if we have to.” The line went dead.
Crap. His first priority was to keep everyone safe, which meant he had to keep everyone calm.
“Psst. Commander.”
He looked around, trying to locate the voice. He didn’t have time for games right now.
“Commander! Up here.”
He craned his neck back to see the flash of glasses through a gap in the ceiling.
“Insing! What are you—why…” He took a deep breath and held it. If he freaked out, everyone would freak out. No one else seemed to notice she was there as they talked among themselves. Thankfully, no one was panicking. Yet.
“Quickly, climb up!” she urged him.
“Insing, why are you in the ceiling?” he asked calmly.
“You have to get in here,” she insisted. “It’s your only chance to live.”
Great. Not just uptight, but also paranoid delusional. Not that he could blame her under these circumstances, but it was awfully inconvenient.
“Amanda Insing, get down from there,” he ordered her. If he had known her middle name, he would have used it. “You’re going to panic everyone.”
“No one else is in danger. Just you.”
“Insing, the Landians—”
“Land-DEE-an,” she corrected. “That’s who I’m talking about. It’s their standard operating procedure. Whenever a station or ship is captured, the commander is executed.”
That caught his attention. “Wait, what?”
“They won’t hurt anyone else who cooperates,” she promised. “But I guarantee, when you surrendered they considered your life forfeit.”
He considered this. “And you’re sure about this?”
“No doubt about it,” she assured him. “SOP of a commandeered vessel: In order to maintain—”
“I get it,” he interrupted. If anyone would know, it would be her. “Nick!” He turned to find Nick already standing mere inches from him. “Whoa! What have I said about personal space?”
“Commander—”
“Nicky, listen carefully.” Lewis gripped his shoulders. Nick flinched, and Lewis quickly released him. “I need you to take charge. Take notes if you have to. This is what I need you to do and what I need you to tell the Colonel.”
After a few carefully thought-out orders—about which Nick did take notes—Commander Lewis Burn climbed onto the nearest console and boosted himself into the maintenance duct with Amanda Insing.
It wasn’t until he had crammed himself into the crawl space that he realized how cramped it really was. Looking up at Insing, it had looked downright roomy. Now he was painfully reminded that he was twice her size.
“What’s the plan?” he asked her as she replaced the grate. Through it he could already see Nick moving everyone out, giving commands in a calm, nasal voice. Good boy, Nicky.
“Follow me,” she told him, proceeding to pull her knees to her chest and flipping around so they were both facing the same way. Lewis couldn’t help but notice the view from behind was pretty darn good. If her skirt rode up just a little more…
“What happened to your ‘suitable work attire?’” he asked distractedly.
“There wasn’t time. Now hurry.”
Shoulders scraping against both sides of the duct—he hoped it didn’t get any narrower, or he’d be in trouble—he followed her on his hands and knees. She only stopped once, to shush him; he couldn’t help that the duct floor buckled under his weight with a metallic pop. Louder still was the thunk of the metal snapping back into its original shape when he moved on. So much for stealth.
“How do you know where you’re going?” he asked, his voice echoing slightly. He figured there was no point whispering.
“I memorized the layout of the station and maintenance ducts on my flight over,” she told him, not looking back. He couldn’t decide whether that was impressive or just creepy. “We’re going to come out just outside the armory. From there, we can arm ourselves and make a plan.”
“Hang on, do what?” So much for not giving her a weapon. He passed over another grate. In the hallway below, the crew was being divided into groups, each group filing into a separate room. “First, I’ve never fired a weapon in my life. Second, you don’t already have a plan?”
“You’re the Commander,” she reminded him. “Commanders are the ones who make plans.” She stopped so suddenly the he nearly ran into her. Instead, he stabbed one of his hands on her heels. Ow. He didn’t even realize she was wearing three-inch heels until he’d jabbed his hand on one. He’d never expected shoes to hurt so much. “What are they doing?” She was peering through a vent. “What exactly did you tell your First Officer?”
“Oh, I told him to go into lockdown,” Lewis explained. “See, every so often something happens where we need everyone out of the way, and we figured out a long time ago that…well, with everyone’s different…needs… not everyone gets along. In fact, fights have broken out when people with conflicting disorders are mixed together. So Nick and I developed a Lockdown Group Plan. Each person is assigned to a group they get along with, and that’s where they stay if the need arises. So I told him to follow lockdown procedures. Now when the Landians get here, they won’t find any trouble, and no one will get hurt.”
“See? Commanders plan.” She gave him a thumbs-up and started moving again. He thought she sounded a little impressed, and the duct started to feel a little too warm. Now he really had trouble not staring at her backside. And with every wiggle, the skirt inched higher.
She stopped again at a grate near the airlock. “Change of plans,” she whispered, “We should watch their arrival, so we’ll know how many of them there are.” She gave Lewis a warning glance. “Just don’t move.”
Nick was already sweating below them, waiting to greet the Colonel. He didn’t have to wait long.
The First Officer jumped at the hiss of the airlock, and the door slid open.
“Welcome to Communications Relay Station 512B.” Nick’s voice cracked and he cleared his throat before hurrying on. “I’m First Officer Nickolas—“
“Where’s the Commander?” the Colonel interrupted. The light glinted off Commendations and metals pinned to the front of his uniform as he stepped forward. Lewis was surprised that the man didn’t jingle with every step. “I expected to be greeted by him personally, so he could formally turn over command to me."
“He—he’s not here. Sir,” Nick stuttered, trying not to hyperventilate. “I don’t know where he is. He asked me to—“
“Really.” The Colonel walked right past Nick and paused to survey the empty hallway, his chin up as if he was posing for a portrait. Ten armed men filed out of the airlock behind him. “The coward. No matter; we’ll find him.”
“I hope you’ll find the station to your liking,” Nick continued, determined to finish his rehearsed speech despite the squeak in his voice. “In order to insure minimal problems for you, the crew is in lockdown—“
“Excuse me?” The Colonel turned on Nick. Lewis was sure Nick was going to faint, but the pale little guy stood firm.
“Um…the station is in lockdown?” he mumbled.
“Why?” the Colonel demanded.
“You see, uh, sir, this is a very special station,” Nick tried to explain. “With everyone in lockdown, it will be easier—“
“Unacceptable,” the Colonel snapped. “I want this station operational. Release the crew from lockdown immediately.”
Oh no. Lewis silently cursed. That idiot!
Nick gave it one last go. “But, sir—”
“Now!”
Nick jumped with a squeal at this outburst and scurried off. Within minutes, his voice whined over the loudspeaker. “Attention everyone. Um, return to your posts! I repeat, return to your posts! Please remain calm and orderly.”
This was bad. This was so bad. Below them, the armed guards were receiving their orders.
“You two, with me. You two, guard the airlock. No one leaves. The rest of you…” The Colonel pointed down the empty hallway with a dramatic flourish. “Spread out, and find the cowardly commander!”
The patrol guards immediately took off. The Colonel and his escort sauntered down the hallway. The clamor of people being released from their rooms was already loud enough that Lewis risked a whisper.
“We have to hurry!” he hissed. “This is going to get bad real quick.”
Insing held up her hand and gave a series of quick gestures.
“What?”
She rolled her eyes. “Just follow me,” she whispered. “Here, take these.” She slipped off her high heels and handed them to him. He stared at them uncomprehendingly. Trained men were loose on the station, hunting him down with intent to kill, and she wanted him to hold her shoes?
The grate hit the floor with a loud bang, capturing the guards’ attention for just long enough for Insing to drop onto the first one, slamming his face into the floor.
The second only had time to whirl to face her before her bare foot nailed him in the side of the head.
She had already liberated them of their stunners and used it on each of them when Lewis dropped down beside her. He looked at the downed men in stunned silence.
“You are one scary little woman,” he told her. Now he definitely didn’t want her knowing he’s spent the last half hour checking out her caboose.
“Can you shoot?” she demanded, holding a stunner out to him.
“Uh, no. No I can’t.” She acted liked it was such a basic skill, he didn’t want to repeat what he’d said in the duct: He’d never fired any weapon before. Those things wouldn’t kill, but he was pretty sure he’d end up shooting himself in the foot. Or shooting Insing.
Her brow creased in disappointment. “Well, then just hang on to those,” she told him, pointing. He looked down at the shoes clutched in his hands. He had forgotten they were there. “Don’t lose them,” she warned.
“I promise not to lose them if you promise not to kill me,” he haggled. She ignored him and jogged down the hall.
He glanced at the unconscious guards and decided the safest place was probably with her. He hurried to catch up.
By the time he’d reached the end of the hall, Insing had already taken out the first guard patrol.
“I’m so glad you’re on my team,” he said.
She grinned, her hair wild and one sleeve of her shirt torn. At some point, her glasses had been knocked off. For the first time, he could see how green her eyes were. In fact, it was the first time he had seen her even smile. She had a very pretty smile.
Should he be terrified that she only smiled when she was taking out armed guards? It was a little disturbing. And hot.
“Now what, Commander?” she asked, still smiling.
“Er…” Having a weapon like her under his command was a new experience for him. He was sure he’d go mad with power. “Let’s make our way to the Control Room,” he decided, resisting the urge to laugh manically. “And, you know, you can do your thing and take out guards along the way.”
“Absolutely, sir,” she chirped, leading the way. He followed her through the maze of hallways, thankful that they didn’t meet any more patrols.
They weren’t far from the Control Room when they turned a corner and ran smack into another group of guards.
Insing responded first, thrusting her weapon behind her back. “Oh, thank goodness you’re here!” she cried, near tears. She pointed at Lewis. “He captured me! Please, help me!”
“Wha—? I…” What just happened? And where did the tears come from? Lewis tightened his grip on the shoes as the four guards looked at him with narrowed eyes and locked jaws. Did she purposely leave him weaponless so she could betray him?
Well, he wouldn’t go down without a fight. He tensed, ready to fling the shoes at them and run the other way. Maybe he could poke out someone’s eye with one of the heels.
“Get behind us, Miss,” one of the guards told her, raising his weapon. Lewis gulped as he realized it wasn’t a stunner. “We’ll take care of him.”
“Oh, thank you!” she gushed. “I thought you’d never ask!” As soon as they turned their backs, Lewis saw her raise the stunner.
Four quick bursts with deadly accuracy knocked them twitching to the floor.
“Get moving, Commander,” she reminded him, already turning away.
“Oh, right.” His mind was still reeling. “Don’t think I wasn’t ready to defend myself,” he blurted. “I was about to throw these shoes at them and…um, run.”
“I hope not,” she called over her shoulder. “Those are my favorite shoes.”
“Well, I meant I was going to pretend to throw them,” he corrected himself, catching up with her. She had stopped. “What is it? What now? Why have we stopped?”
“We’re at the Control Room,” she told him patiently, pointing to the door. Somehow with all the fighting he’d gotten turned around. “This won’t be easy. That colonel had some impressive Commendations. But, I’ll be with you the whole time. Are you ready?”
He swallowed hard, but hesitated.
“Can I set your shoes down by the door?” he asked timidly. “I just don’t want to walk into the Control Room holding a pair of women’s shoes. You understand.”
“Fine, go ahead,” she allowed. “Against the wall, so they won’t get trampled.”
He took as deep breath as he straightened. “I’m ready.”
Before she could push a button, the door slid open of its own accord and a rumpled Colonel tumbled out.
“You’re all crazy!” he cried, scrambling to stand. “Get away from me!” He stumbled down the hallway, followed closely by his armed escort as they yelled into their communicators: “Retreat! I repeated, retreat! This is Team One! If anyone can hear me, please respond! This is Team One, please respond!” Lewis hoped they would trip over their missing team members on the way out.
The Control Room was chaos. People ran around screaming, some fighting, a few huddled under their desks rocking back and forth. Only two or three people were yelling for order, but they were only contributing to the noise. One man was busy cleaning the floor, scrubbing furiously to stave off his panic.
“I guess the Colonel couldn’t handle the job,” Insing murmured.
Lewis calmly walked into his office and retrieved his air horn.
Two blasts, and the room fell silent, everyone freezing in place—except for the guy scrubbing the floor. He just scrubbed away.
“Ladies and Gentlemen.” Lewis didn’t even raise his voice. “What’s the problem here?”
“That moron came in here and started ordering us around,” Steven spat. “He yelled at me to contact Earth. But I told him, only Mitchell contacts Earth. I’m in charge of the colonies in area C. And Mitchell wasn’t back yet.”
“I see,” Lewis said, smothering a smile. “And what did he say?”
“He said he didn’t care that Mitchell was supposed to contact Earth!” Steven continued, gesturing wildly in exasperation. “He ordered me to do it, but I told him I only contact the colonies…”
“So he told me to do it!” Linda jumped in. “But I asked him, if I contacted Earth, who was going to keep an eye on the static levels? I just couldn’t.”
“The Colonel acted like static levels didn’t matter—”
“And then when Mitchell got here, he was so upset because—”
“He gave someone else my job—!”
“And we tried to explain that it’s always been this way—”
“—Paul said he would do it, but Mitchell shoved him—”
“—and that’s when—”
“Alright, alright!” Lewis called out, afraid the fight would resume if they got worked up again. “I understand! Everyone, please take your proper stations, and I’m going to want status reports from every department.”
They quietly trickled back to their proper seats, their minds set at ease now that the Commander was back in charge. For some reason, everyone loved to submit status reports to him. Only George’s seat was vacant—he was still scrubbing the floor.
“George…?”
“I know, let me just finish…”
“Take your time,” Lewis assured him. He turned back to the rest of his waiting crew. “First, what’s the status of the Landian ship?”
“That Colonel has returned to the ship and the engines are firing up… It’s leaving, Commander.”
A cheer went up at this announcement. Lewis smiled. “Excellent work, people. Now I need everyone to print out a detailed status report and file them alphabetically with Nick.”
The Control Room filled with a cheerful bustle as everyone rushed to the printers to wait for their papers. Lewis gave a huge sigh of relief. Everything seemed back to normal, and no one got hurt.
“Sir, there’s a recorded message from the retreating ship,” Nick told him, holding out a receiver. Lewis held it to his ear and nodded to Nick.
“After much deliberation,” said the Colonel in a harried voice, “we’ve decided to start the war on a different station. One more… strategically placed. We’ve decided to let you live only so you may warn Earth: the Landian Empire is coming, and we will not show mercy. Colonel Fritter of the Landian Fleet, out.”
Lewis smiled to himself. “Thank you Nick.” He almost clapped Nick on the back, but stopped himself in time. Physical contact was Nick’s idea of punishment, not a reward. Instead, he said: “You did great today, First Officer.” Nick beamed.
Insing came up beside him, her hair and clothes still hopelessly wild, her glasses still MIA, but the stern expression once again affixed to her face. He noticed with some pride that at least her shoes were unmarred.
“If you don’t mind me asking, sir…” She hesitated. “This is a crazy place. Why are you here?”
He gave her a tight smile. “For the same reason you’re here,” he replied mildly. “Someone has to keep things running.”
It was the same answer he always gave.
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