“Everyone!” the admiral said, standing up. Instantly, the room was focused on their leader with rapt attention, their conversations stopping as though they had been instruments cut off by the conductor of an orchestra. Eyes began to sparkle. Someone even began to cry softly, and Mailn raised one of those slow, dramatic salutes.

“Oh, come on,” Rogers muttered.

“Men and women of valor,” Klein said, his voice booming. “We face before us an intergalactic terror the likes of which have not been seen in generations. It will be a great test of our mettle, our resolve, our courage.”

Klein began pacing around the little dais in the middle of the bridge, though there wasn’t much room on it anymore, since Rogers was sitting there as well. So, Klein sort of just rocked back and forth as though he was doing a very bad dance to some very out-of-time music.

“The Meridan Patrol Fleet has been the symbol for peace for hundreds of years. In the whispered notes of our name resides the haunting hymn of triumph, trembling on the lips of every man, woman, and child under the aegis of our noble and holy cause. Under the watchful gaze of this fleet, none of them shall come to harm. That hymn shall be sung, and its music will carry the galaxy to peace—the same hymn that will be the dirge of Thelicosan aggression!”

The whole room burst into cheers. Everyone except Rogers was practically jumping up and down, hollering and waving their arms in the air at the rousing battle speech that Klein had just given. Except they weren’t going to battle. And Klein was a moron. Rogers rubbed at his temples, a distant hope building up inside of him that he’d have another chance to get off this hunk of metal and go sip lemonade and Scotch somewhere for the rest of his life.

The room was still engaging in riotous celebration when Rogers and the admiral left the bridge for Klein’s stateroom. It took a lot of restraint for Rogers to wait until they were inside to start screaming at the man.

“Are you out of your mind?” Rogers said.

“What?” Klein asked as he shrugged off his coat and picked up a half-eaten sandwich. “Was it something I said?”

Rogers’ eyes bulged. “Do you even hear the speeches you give? You just drummed up the whole ship for a war that’s not coming.”

“I did?”

“Yes,” Rogers said flatly, “you did. Do you even know what a dirge is? It’s a funeral march. You just implied we were going to slaughter the Thelicosans.”

Klein bit his lip, thinking. Taking out a small notepad from his pocket, he began flipping through pages and humming.

“Oh,” he said finally. “I wasn’t supposed to use the music analogy in that one. Damn it, I do that all the time. I must have mixed up the pages with another speech that was supposed to be delivered if they really did declare war. You’re my secretary. Isn’t there a way you can help me keep track of this stuff ?”