“I’m not a deserter,” he said. “I can’t even make cupcakes.”

He grinned and raised his eyebrows. She wound back her fist.

“Wait!” he cried, not at all like a small child, and put his hands in front of his face as if that would do anything to stop the haymaker of the strongest woman he’d ever met. When he didn’t feel like he’d been hit by a truck, he peeked through his makeshift guard and saw the Viking standing with her arms folded, eyes boring into his skull.

“Wait,” he repeated. “I just want to talk to you for a second.”

“I can’t imagine you having anything at all interesting to say to me,” the Viking said.

“I wanted to apologize,” he said. “For lying to you. And trying to jump out of the side of the ship.”

The obvious disgust on the Viking’s face didn’t lessen at all. “And?”

Rogers sighed. “And the space bugs.”

“Seriously, what were you thinking?” the Viking said. “Space bugs?”

“I know,” Rogers said, hanging his head. “I’m not really on my game lately. I didn’t really want to run away. It’s just that I didn’t want to be here anymore and I’m not allowed to leave voluntarily.”

The Viking’s frown deepened. Rogers cleared his throat.

“It’s not that I wanted to run away. It’s that I’m scared of actually having to fight anyone.”

“Keep digging, metalhead.”

Rogers grit his teeth and pulled at his beard. “You’re not making this very easy. Look, I’m doing my best now, alright? I’m trying to piece this group back together and get us ready for whatever . . .” He gestured at where the briefing screen had been. “Whatever is or isn’t coming our way. Didn’t I put someone back into Engineering who could actually fix things?”

The Viking shrugged. “I guess.”

“Didn’t I put someone who could speak back into Intelligence?”

She sighed. “Yeah.”

“My point is that I’m trying to make up for it. And if this war comes, I’m going to need someone to share an escape pod with.”

“Rogers!”

“I’m kidding!”^I Rogers said, miraculously dodging the punch that would have likely broken his sternum in half.

The Viking didn’t make to hit him again, so that was progress, he guessed. He straightened out his uniform and tried to look serious.

“I’m not sure what’s about to happen here,” Rogers said, gesturing toward the now-empty briefing screen. “But I have a feeling we’re going to need your help.

The Viking raised an eyebrow. “Me?”

“Yes,” Rogers said, “you. I don’t know anyone else on this ship that’s actually prepared to fight. Everyone else around here, including me, has been screwing around for the last two hundred years while you were actually doing what marines are supposed to do.” Rogers swallowed. “Not that you’ve been doing it for two hundred years. I mean, you don’t look two hundred years old. I mean, you look young, but you act old. I mean . . .”