“Actually,” Rogers said, thinking about it for a second, “it kind of was.”

“This pleases me,” D-24 said. “I will add this joke to my database and reserve it for later use.”

“I still don’t understand how you ended up down here,” Rogers said, “without being properly deactivated.”

“Part of my memory is corrupted,” D-24 said. “I am unable to recall a significant time period between my arrival on this ship and my abandonment in the trash chute. I assume it has something to do with the unbelievably stupid MATERNAL FORNICATION in the maintenance bay who don’t know their ANATOMICAL REFERENCE from their wrenches!”

Rogers could relate—and that kind of scared him.

“But what I don’t understand is—”

“What the hell are you still doing down here?” someone called from behind him. “Does Klein want you to hem all his pants before you throw them out too?”

Rogers leapt to his feet to find both Mailn and the Viking walking toward him. Rogers swore under his breath. Why had they come back? Why hadn’t they just gone away?

They stopped short of him, looking at him curiously. Both of them were frowning. A heavy moment of silence built up around the exit of the trash chute as they looked at each other.

“Why are you wearing a VMU?” Mailn said.

“It’s, um, a safety precaution,” Rogers said brilliantly. “In case someone vents the chute while I’m down here folding Klein’s clothes, I’ll be able to get back into the ship.”

Ha! Rogers thought. Well done!

“And the giant pile of Sewer rats sticking out of the laundry cart encased in cryo-wrap?”

“Klein is on a diet,” Rogers said quickly, “but he doesn’t want anyone else to know, so he orders food and then throws it away.” He pointed at his own stomach, which wasn’t exactly washboard-flat, either. “He’s very sensitive about his image.”

Ha, ha! Rogers thought. I am a genius!

“These explanations are confusing given your original assertion that you were trying to escape,” D-24 said.

Rogers and the two marines turned slowly to face the droid.

“That,” Rogers said, “was not funny.”

“Escape?” Mailn said slowly. “You were trying to run away?”

“What kind of yellow-bellied miscreant are you?” the Viking said.

Rogers whirled around, hands up in defense of what he was certain would be another vicious beating. “No,” he said. “It’s not like that. I was just going to go clean the space bugs—”

“We’re at war, Rogers!” Mailn said, her face red and scary-looking. “You’re deserting in the face of the enemy! You do realize that’s punishable by death, don’t you?”

“Deserting in the face of what enemy?” Rogers shouted back, suddenly angry. “There is no enemy! We’re in the middle of the greatest interlocking treaty-created peace in intergalactic history! If the Thelicosans so much as fart wrong, they’ll have every system in Fortuna Stultus tearing their fleet to shreds!” He threw his hands up in the air. “You’ve all been addled by stupid posters and morons and droids!”