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That long-delayed promotion to admiral was not yet an actuality, but things were looking very promising indeed.

Wanker drew himself up to attention as Admiral Dickover approached. Behind him, in a ragged line, stood the ranking officers of the U.S.S. Repulse. Bursting with pride, they all wore uncontainable grins.

Dickover stopped in front of Wanker. Wanker threw up his best salute, which Dickover returned. The admiral handed over a rolled-up piece of mylar. Wanker accepted and unfurled it. It was a unit citation banner, meant to be flown on the quarterdeck. It read: FOR MERITORIOUS SERVICE.

Dickover’s hand was extended. “Congratulations, Dave.”

It was the first time Dickover had used his first name. As Wanker was still of inferior rank, custom forbade reciprocation, but Wanker said warmly,

“Thanks, Admiral. Appreciate it. Uh, about our next assignment…?”

Dickover looked slightly pained. “Yes, yes. You want exploration?”

“Yes, sir. I want to get out there, to the frontier, sir. It’s in the blood, sir. You know?”

“Yes, of course. In the blood. Uh, but exploration calls for a crack crew, Dave. You see—”

Wanker raised his eyebrows innocently. “Sir?”

Dickover realized he was outmaneuvered. “I’ll take it up personally with the Deputy Chief of Operations.”

“Thank you, sir!”

“Again, my congratulations. To all of you. You really stuck it to the Krutons.”

“Beat them at their own game, sir.”

“Yes.” Dickover didn’t seem to have his heart in it. “Well, carry on.”

More saluting, and then Dickover about-faced and retreated.

Wanker turned and said, “Ship’s company, dismissed!”

Dr. O’Gandhi, a serene smile on his face, keeled over and died.

After the doctor was successfully revived. Wanker took Mr. Rhodes aside.

“Walk with me.”

“Be delighted to, sir,”

The tarmac seemed to stretch to infinity. A shuttle streaked overhead, heading out into limitless space, the first stars of which were now appearing in this alien sky, far, far from Earth.

An evening mist rose, and the captain and his first officer strolled through it. Runway fights ran in tandem lines out to a distant vanishing point.

“You know, Rhodes, this could be the start of a beautiful friendship.”

“Could be, Captain Wanker. Could be.”

“Vahn-ker.”

“Sorry.”

“Never mind.”