“You are Admiral Klein, commander of the Flagship and of the 331st ATBU.”

“You are correct,” Klein said. “And I’ll thank you to stop impeding the progress of my official duties. What is your alphanumeric designation?”

“I am F-GC-001,” Oh One replied. “Former second-in-command of the AIGCS.”

“And now you are assigned to roaming the halls and harassing personnel?”

“I am unaware that such a position exists aboard this ship,” Oh One said. “If you wish to have me assigned to such duties, please fill out a general request form—”

“I don’t fill out forms,” Klein said, pointing to Rogers. “I have him fill out forms. And nobody messes with the guy that fills out my forms.”

“That’s right,” Rogers said, feeling bold. “Now get out of our way before I rub my feet on the carpet and touch you.”

Oh One spared him an irritated glance, that red glow flashing in his eyes for a brief moment. Rogers tried not to show the fact that he was currently considering where the nearest bathroom was if he happened to poop his pants. What would they do if Oh One decided to draw his weapon? Deet might be “a fierce and loyal warrior of an ancient order” or whatever, but he didn’t have a disruptor pistol. He barely had matching arms.

Just when Rogers thought he was going to have to do something desperate and heroic, like die in a pool of his own blood on the floor of the communication deck in complete and utter obscurity, Oh One abruptly shouldered past all of them and continued walking toward the up-line. Rogers let out a breath that kind of sounded, maybe just a little bit, like a whiny sob.

He turned to Klein, feeling a little ashamed of himself. He’d done nothing but berate this man for being a complete and utter imbecile for as long as he’d known him, and that man had likely just saved their skins.

“Sir,” Rogers said. “I didn’t know you had it in you.”

Klein looked at Rogers, his face unreadable. His lips parted as if to say something, but he closed his mouth and swallowed. Slowly, he shook his head.

“Let’s just get this over with,” he said.

“Deet,” Rogers said, “lead the way.”

Their droid companion began walking forward at a brisk pace, leading them through the twists and turns of the bowels of the Flagship. Rogers felt even more confused and disoriented than when he’d visited Ralph, who had really been in the bowels of the Flagship. It was like they had constructed this place specifically to be confusing. Maybe it was a defense mechanism in case the ship was ever boarded—though communications troops didn’t exactly have a reputation for defending things to the last man and all that.

“What is with this place?” Rogers said out loud. Despite being surrounded on all sides by claustrophobia-inducing metal surfaces, his voice seemed to echo as though he was in a large cavern.

They passed a door with an old-fashioned latch-and-hinge construction, composed entirely out of thick bands of riveted metal. The room was marked ROOM 01010110. Someone had scratched out two of the numbers and changed it to ROOM 01011110, and someone else below that had scribbled “That’s disgusting.” Rogers didn’t understand any of it.