Tunger shrugged and saluted Rogers on accident, likely assuming that Rogers had just been saluting him, which didn’t make any sense at all.

“They turned operation of the freeze wrap over to a few droids, and someone told them to ‘stop everything.’ You know how droids are.”

Rogers did know how droids were, and he was liking it less and less every day. He almost slapped his forehead in exasperation, but it turned into a salute as a group of harried-looking starmen second class rushed by. His arm was already beginning to ache and he hadn’t even eaten breakfast yet.

“So, what did you get?” Rogers asked, gesturing to the small bag that Tunger had in his left hand.

Tunger handed him a bag. “I asked Suresh for something to stop everything from flying around, and this is what he gave me.”

Rogers opened the bag, looked inside, and felt something he couldn’t explain jump up into his throat and hold it closed for a moment. It seemed like an hour before he could finally get the words to leave his lips.

“. . . Paperweights?” Rogers said, his voice trembling. “Paperweights?”

“That’s right,” Tunger said. “Just the thing to keep papers in their places.”

Rogers looked up at him slowly, feeling malice drip from his eyes. “And what,” he asked slowly, “is going to keep the paperweights down? There’s no gravity in my room.”

Tunger frowned. “You’ll have to cut Suresh some slack, sir. He was a finance troop until a couple of weeks ago, before they put him in charge of the munitions depot and then rapidly transferred him to the command staff and then the zoo deck custodial staff and then Supply. Plus he was a little shaken after being frozen.”

Rogers snapped a salute but quickly realized that there was no one else in the hallway. What was happening to him?

“Just forget it,” Rogers said.

Paperweights were the least of his problems. In truth, he was starting to get used to working in zero gravity. He’d have to see if he could steal some bolts and a drill or something. Or maybe a lot of refrigerator magnets and some glue. The old Rogers would have been able to deal with this without a problem. He’d improvise a solution, talk someone into doing something they didn’t want to do, have a drink, steal something, and probably make a little money on the way. It would have been easy.

“Oh, and one other thing, sir,” Tunger said, saluting him.

“Stop saluting me. Just stop.”

“Yes, sir,” Tunger said, saluting. “I was in the Uncouth Corkscrew this morning for breakfast—which is why it took me so long to get up here today; all the droids were in line for the power sockets—and I saw Master Sergeant Hart in the kitchen. He wanted me to tell you ‘she’s all done.’ Do you have any idea what that means?”

“I have no idea what anyone on this ship is talking about,” Rogers said with a scowl. “Maybe he finally made some eggs that don’t taste like—”