The door opened, revealing a nearly empty cabin. Nearly, that is, except for Corporal Tunger and a very angry-looking baboon.

“Oh, not this guy,” McSchmidt said as they all piled inside.

“Hullur!” Tunger said. “It’s nurse to see yur!”

“Please shut up.” McSchmidt had his hands balled up into fists at his sides and spoke through clenched teeth. What was his problem?

“I never thought I’d understand you more than I’d understand my own corporal,” the Viking said. “I don’t know what the hell these people are talking about.”

“It’s gurd to knur that surmone appreciates my talunts,” Tunger said, glaring at Rogers.

“Shut up,” McSchmidt said again. Rogers shot him a look, but McSchmidt was fixated on the floor. His face was turning a dark crimson.

“I can’t appreciate someone I can’t understand,” Rogers said flippantly. “Anyway, about the spoons and forks—”

“Aie um nurt so hard to understand,” Tunger said. “Thelicosans spurk like thurs all the time!”

“No!” McSchmidt yelled suddenly. “No, we don’t! You sound like a complete idiot! Nobody in Thelicosa speaks like they’ve been repeatedly punched in the jaw since the day they were born! Every time you open your mouth, it’s like you are reaching deep into my chest and rupping urt mur huuuurt !”

Everyone in the car was silent, the quiet hum of the up-line zooming toward the command deck buzzing softly in the background. McSchmidt’s face was only a few inches from a very terrified Tunger, and the lieutenant lieutenant’s lips were lined with a thin film of enraged foam. Then, suddenly, all of the blood drained from McSchmidt’s face, and his anger melted away.

“Oh,” he said. “Oh, shurt.”

“You’re a spy,” Rogers said flatly.

“No. No, I’m—”

“You just said ‘we.’ And you talked like a Thelicosan.”

“Oh, come on,” Tunger said, his voice thankfully back to a steady Meridan accent. “There’s no way he’s a spy. Did you hear that? His accent was awful. He curn’t urven spurk—”

“Enough! Yes. I’m a spy. I admit it. I’d rather have my tongue torn out and be executed in public than have to listen to this barbarian brutalize my language.”

“That makes two of us,” the Viking said.

Rogers looked at her, his jaw slack. “You’re a spy too?”

“No,” the Viking said. “I just think Tunger is annoying.”

“And you know what else?” McSchmidt said, his tirade apparently not concluded. “You’re all a bunch of idiots with bad sensors and an even worse fleet commander. There is no Thelicosan invasion! Where are you even getting your information from? It’s like someone is faking—”

“McSchmidt,” Rogers said. “Shut up.”

“—faking the intelligence reports just to get you to remain in a state of high alert, and it’s all some kind of elaborate plot by—”

“Shut up!” Rogers yelled.

Thankfully, McSchmidt shut up. In fact, he went absolutely slack-jawed silent. Rogers let out a sigh of relief. He could deal with McSchmidt being a spy later. For now, it was important that the droids remain clueless that he knew—