“Well,” Rogers said. “I feel a little bit better.” He looked at Mailn, who was still grinning at him for some reason. “Thanks for watching over me, by the way. I don’t know what I would have done if Barber Bot had gotten ahold of my beard while I’d been sleeping.”

Mailn shrugged. “Hey, I don’t absolutely hate you. Next to the marines in my platoon, you’re the closest thing to a friend I have on this ship. And you’re proving to be very entertaining.” The grin was back. “Plus, any chance I get to yell at a droid is too good to pass up.”

“Well,” Rogers said, “thanks.”

Mailn kept grinning.

“What?” Rogers asked, narrowing his eyes. “What is it? What aren’t you telling me?”

Sitting forward in her chair, Mailn put her elbows on her knees. “You’re not even the least bit curious where you’ve been reassigned?”

Rogers blinked. “I always thought that mid-grade officers just sort of roamed around the ship and made things difficult for people. They actually have positions?”

Mailn kept grinning.

“Will you stop that?” Rogers said. “Your face is going to freeze like that.”

Mailn kept grinning.

“For god’s sake, what? ”

“I found out an interesting piece of news after Klein came in the other day. Remember how I said he just got a new executive officer?”

“Yes . . .”

Mailn paused for dramatic effect. “He hung himself.”

“No,” Rogers said, sitting up and gripping the sheets in white-knuckled fists.

“Which means there’s an opening for a plucky lieutenant with bravery, fortitude, and aptitude to spare.”

“No,” Rogers said again, clenching his teeth.

“And there happens to be a brand-new lieutenant who fits that description and just fainted himself out of a command.”

“No!” Rogers screamed.

Mailn reached over and handed him his personal datapad that had been sitting on the stand next to the bed, on which was displayed his transfer orders.

“Congratulations, Lieutenant,” she said. “You’re a secretary.”

Rogers walked through the corridor with his head hung so low, he could barely see where he was going. Beside him, Corporal Tunger nattered incessantly.

“This is so exciting, sir,” he said. “Two promotions and a chance to be next to one of the most brilliant men ever to grace the MPF! You must be beside yourself with joy.”

Rogers mumbled something offensive.

“I mean, really,” Tunger continued, “to have that level of responsibility and prestige thrust upon you after discovering one of the most dangerous flaws in the AIGCS programming. You’ve had quite the exciting career, sir! And to think, just a few weeks ago, you were an ex-sergeant.”

Tunger switched the bag he was holding to his other hand. He’d remained as Rogers’ orderly, which seemed utterly absurd. It basically made him the secretary of a secretary, but the man had nowhere else to go. Apparently, all the people trained in zoo operations had been moved to finance, and Tunger had been the odd man out before the AIGCS came along.