Sergeant Stract didn’t seem to find that amusing, though he declined to comment. The droid wiped a gloved hand over the edge of Rogers’ bed frame and brought it up to its face.

“CALL FUNCTION [PERFORM PRIMARY DUTY]. DUST PRESENT ON BED. ONE DEMERIT WILL BE AWARDED.”

“What?” Rogers blurted. “I just got here! How was I supposed to dust everything?” He shook his head, as if to rattle the absurdity out of it. “Why should I even bother dusting at all? The Meridan Fleet doesn’t dust !”

“CALL FUNCTION [PERFORM PRIMARY DUTY]. WARDROBE NOT ARRAYED IN PROPER ORDER. ONE DEMERIT WILL BE AWARDED.”

“I didn’t even put that stuff in there! Give a demerit to Suresh in Supply!”

“CALL FUNCTION [PERFORM PRIMARY DUTY]. DESK CHAIR WHEELS IMPROPERLY ROTATED. ONE DEMERIT WILL BE AWARDED.”

“What does that even mean?”

Sergeant Stract was scratching away on the archaic note-taking device with a pencil and following the droid as it made its rounds.

“This is stupid,” Rogers said. “This is really, really stupid.”

The droid came to the spot on the wall where the propaganda poster had been and paused, its long, horse-like head scanning over the empty spot.

“CALL FUNCTION [PERFORM PRIMARY DUTY]. OUTPUT STRING: INSUFFICIENT MORALE. ONE DEMERIT WILL BE AWARDED.”

Sergeant Stract made a mark on the clipboard, and Rogers was about to break it over his head. All of the events of the past week were building up inside of him to the point of overflow; he found himself fantasizing about visiting tremendous violence on inanimate objects and various people he’d met since he’d come aboard the Flagship. It pushed him to the brink. It made him want to chew off the droid’s arm.

Then he broke and did something that no self-respecting military man ever did. He pulled rank.

“Sergeant Stract,” Rogers said, “as your superior officer, I order you to put that damn thing away and get the hell out of my room.”

Both the droid and the sergeant froze where they stood. Rogers grinned. He had them!

“But,” the sergeant said.

“No buts,” Rogers said, moving to stand in front of Sergeant Stract. “Get out. Right now. And never come back.”

Sergeant Stract’s left leg twitched, as if to move. Rogers took a deep breath to bark the order a second time.

“CALL FUNCTION [SMUGLY CITE REGULATION]. AUGMENTED FUNCTION [FRUSTRATE SUPERIOR OFFICER]. OUTPUT STRING: MERIDAN STANDARDIZATION AND EVALUATION REGULATION MR-415 STATES THAT ALL PERSONNEL ARE SUBJECT TO INSPECTION AND MUST COMPLY WITH THE INSTRUCTIONS OF THE INSPECTION STAFF IN ORDER TO MAINTAIN GOOD ORDER AND DISCIPLINE IN A MILITARY FASHION. YOU HAVE ISSUED AN ILLEGAL ORDER.”

Sergeant Stract stood taller behind the protective shield of his regulation-spouting “superior,” and the droid turned around to face Rogers.

“CALL FUNCTION [PERFORM PRIMARY DUTY]. OUTPUT STRING: IMPROPER FACIAL HAIR GROOMING. ONE DEMERIT WILL BE AWARDED. AUGMENTED FUNCTION [VEILED INCONVENIENCE] AN APPOINTMENT WITH CYBERMAN SECOND CLASS BAR-BR 116 HAS BEEN SCHEDULED FOR TOMORROW AT 0830.”

“Go galvanize yourself,” Rogers said. “It’ll be a cold day in hell before anyone touches my beard.”