Everyone sat down for a moment. The Viking snuffed out a smoking coil of fabric on her trousers, and Rogers looked at the charred spot longingly. If she’d just let it go a little longer . . .

“So, what do we do now?” Rogers asked.

“No,” Deet said. “As a matter of fact, I will defeat you.” More whirring and banging.

“Deet,” Rogers said. “That’s a really bad taunt. Is your taunt generator as broken as your profanity generator?”

“Go ENGAGE IN ASEXUAL REPRODUCTION,” Deet said.

A shower of sparks landed on the baboon, singeing part of its fur and causing it to jump into Tunger’s waiting arms.

“There, there,” Tunger said, stroking the hair on its chin lovingly. “It’s just a crazed artificial intelligence attempting to kill our former boss. There, there.”

Bobo cooed and settled down, nestling into Tunger’s chest.

“Right,” Rogers said. “Now, about this plot to take over the ship.”

“Run for your lives!” Deet said.

“CALL FUNCTION [NEVER ADMIT DEFEAT.] OUTPUT STRING: I WILL NEVER ADMIT DEFEAT.”

“You’re both awful,” Mailn said. “Can we leave? This is literally the most boring battle I have ever seen in my entire life.”

Rogers looked at the fierce robotic slap fight happening on the other side of the up-line car and tugged on his beard. They could leave, he supposed, but this was still the only area they could talk without being heard by every droid in the network. At least, he thought so. Plus, it seemed like Deet had this under control.

“Keep it up, Deet,” he said halfheartedly.

“I will not die in vain!” Deet cried.

“You’re not dying,” Rogers said. “Calm down and keep slapping him. McSchmidt, give me your datapad, and everyone gather round.”

McSchmidt handed Rogers the pad, and everyone moved from their seats on the nice soft cushions of the up-line to sit cross-legged on the floor. Rogers sidled up next to the Viking, feeling her warmth.

“Seems like your droid toy has this covered,” she said.

“I am not a droid toy!” Deet exclaimed. “I am a fierce and loyal warrior of an ancient order! I am the manifestation of the spirits of heroes! I am—”

“CALL FUNCTION [INTERRUPT DELUSION OF GRANDEUR]. OUTPUT STRING: DIE!”

“I reject your imperative!” Deet said.

“Seriously,” Mailn said. “The absolutely most boring fight ever. Can we get on with this?”

Mailn roughly shoved McSchmidt to the side, knocking him into within range of the spark cloud, and sat down next to Rogers, uncomfortably close. McSchmidt sputtered some unintelligible protest and began patting out his hair as he crawled back toward the circle of humans (and a baboon). The smell of freshly singed hair filled the cabin.

“That wasn’t really necessary, was it?” McSchmidt said. “I’m a superior officer and all.”

“You’re a spy,” Mailn said. “You’re lucky I don’t cut your fingers off and use your own fingernails to castrate you.”

Everyone in the circle recoiled, the three males shifting in their seats uncomfortably.