Faces around the room went white, as blood drained into people’s shoes. I hid my face in my hands. "Skippy," I asked, "how can an impossibly intelligent being be so absent-minded?"

“See?” Skippy asked innocently. “This is the kind of stuff you’re supposed to remind me of, Colonel Joe. I can’t think of everything.”

“Space suits.” I mumbled under my breath.

“Oh, shut up, monkey boy.”

“Space suits?” The president asked.

“It’s a long story.” Skippy said.

The president exchanged a glance with her national security director. “M-hmm. Everything seems to be a long story with the two of you.”

“Skippy,” I still felt like an idiot calling him that, in front of the nation’s senior leadership, “can we telefactor the robots aboard the Dutchman, to take care of those two Kristang?” I couldn’t imagine a human commando team, wearing bulky NASA spacesuits, shooting it out with a pair of Kristang warriors aboard a Kristang ship.

“Sure. You’re full of good ideas, Colonel Joe.”

The Army chief of staff turned toward me. “We’ll need to get some Rangers up to the Dutchman, to operate this telefactoring equipment. Telefactoring is remotely controlling Thuranin combat robots?”

“We can provide a SEAL team.” The Navy chief offered, to not be outdone.

“Uh, yes, sirs, but it would be best to send some of our pirates, I mean, some of the Dutchman crew back up there. We have experience controlling those robots in combat. Video game skills are more useful than, um, the kind of things Rangers or SEALs are trained for, sirs.” I was sure that somehow, we were going to have Army Rangers, Navy SEALs, Marine Force Recon, and Air Force Special Tactics people aboard the Dutchman when she broke orbit. Probably FBI Hostage Rescue Team, too, since nobody was going to want to get left out of the action. And those were just the Americans. Things were going to get crowded. We needed to pack plenty of air fresheners.

I'd ask Skippy to make a note of that.