“I can show you close-ups of the Apollo 11 landing site, from sensors on the Flying Dutchman, if you like. I looked at that site yesterday.”

Curiosity overcame my fear. “What does it look like?”

“Your species is way more brave than smart. I take space travel for granted, but your astronauts went up there in tin soup cans. Even I am impressed. You can almost read the Campbell’s soup label on their landers, next to the NASA logo. Man, you monkey seriously had balls to land on your moon with that crappy technology.”

“Great, thank you. Can you please, please leave the National Security Agency alone? For me?”

“Why? I’m having fun. I haven’t had fun in, like, millions of years!”

“There are other ways to have fun, Skippy, that don’t involve me going to federal prison.”

“You got out of prison before. Twice.”

“Can you be serious for a minute? I’m enlisted in the US Army, I can’t be part of screwing with America’s security infrastructure.”

“But causing trouble is so much fun.” Skippy grumbled.

“You want to have fun causing trouble? Go online and start a credible rumor that Justin Beiber is going to play Darth Vader in the next Star Wars movie.” I suggested.

“Oooooh, good one! I knew there’s a reason I hang around you, Joe. Ok, I just put fourteen minutes of what looks like pirated studio footage online-“

I slapped my forehead. “Oh my God, what have I done?”

“And I released an FDA study that Vegemite works better than Viagra-“

“Stop it! I’m taking a shower, try not to launch any nukes while I’m gone.”

“You know I wouldn’t hurt anyone, Colonel Joe. Hmm, how about-“

I shut the door and headed down the hall to the bathrooms, wondering if I had time to buy stock in whatever company made Vegemite.

I had never been so nervous in my life. Meeting the president outside, having just descended from orbit in a Thuranin dropship with a chrome plated beer can, made that whole experience so unreal, I’d forgotten to be nervous. Now, wearing a freshly pressed uniform, sitting in a room with the Joint Chiefs, the heads of the CIA and NSA, the national security director and science advisor, and the president’s chief of staff, had me dry mouthed and about to pee in my pants. The room was a bit like the Oval Office, with a big desk at one end, two rows of couches, and a coffee table. They sat me on the end of one couch, closest to the chair where the president would be sitting. The Army Chief of Staff, who I’d only seen in pictures before, was sitting right next to me. While we waited for the president, people drank coffee from little china cups that had saucers, I guess so the cups didn’t leave rings on the table. The cups didn’t have the presidential seal, those must have been left behind in DC. Now that I’d sat down and had time to look around, the room didn’t appear to be anywhere near as majestic as the Oval Office. In fact, the furniture could have been taken from the lobby of your average Ramada. Or maybe, as I realized the arm of the couch was worn and had a mysterious stain, perhaps a Motel 6. The Army chief picked up his coffee cup in a hand big enough to cover the whole thing, and I tried to follow. The cup shook so badly that it made a racket tapping against the saucer, so I set it back down so carefully you’d think I was disarming a live nuclear warhead. The Army chief, General Brenner, took pity on me. “Best if you leave the coffee alone.” He said quietly.