"I believe so, sir", the science officer responded. "Mr. Jeffy should be in place now, and we have the exact firing coordinates."
"And who figured those coordinates, Mr. Schultz?"
"I did", Schultz answered, his voice tinted with mild agitation. "With the help of Lt. Scott", he amended belatedly.
"Very good", the commander replied, taking his seat, "get me Lt. Krashaki."
"Aye aye, sir", Number Two acknowledged, depressing the transmit button. "Escort to Lt. Krashaki."
"Go", the pilot replied almost immediately.
"Roger, Lieutenant", Number Two continued, "commence firing on the coordinates I am feeding your targeting systems."
"What do you want me to shoot at you?"
"A positron burst would probably be best", Lt. Scott said, looking to Mr. Schultz for approval. Schultz nodded.
"Yeah, the positron", Krash muttered, "that's what I thought. Would that be the red button or the blue button?"
"It should be labeled, Lieutenant", Number Two informed him.
"Well that's the thing", Krash explained, "I kinda took all the labels off of my instrumentation. I felt they were interfering with my karma."
Lt. Scott looked questioningly at the commander. "Which one, sir?"
"The blue oone!", Reed shouted, clearly peeved at witnessing years of Space Fleet training being set aside in lieu of color coding.
"Okay!", Krash shouted back. "Geez, take a Ridelin or something."
Reed held his tongue, not wanting to get into a lengthy debate that would drain the remaining power from their systems.
"Alright", the pilot said dramatically, "here goes nothing!!" And, in fact, nothing did happen. "You said the blue one, right?", Krashaki asked sheepishly after several seconds.
"Yes", Reed spat, coming to his feet as he unleashed his anger on the hapless pilot, "the blue one!!"
"Roger", Krash replied.
The ship shook under the violent energy discharge as Krashaki's burst impacted with the hull of the ship. Reed was thrown from his feet, landing hard on the unforgiving, steel floor. His head struck
the ground, and through the stars swimming before his eyes, he could see Lt. Scott moving quickly toward him.
"Commander", Number Two said, voice dripping with concern, "are you alright?!?"
"Sure", Reed replied groggily. "Just fell down, I guess." He shook his head to clear his vision as Number Two offered a hand of assistance. Reaching out, he took the offered hand
and looked directly into Lt. Scott's eyes. "Thanks, son", he managed as he struggled to his feet.
Number Two stepped back as the Commander straightened his uniform. Something about that last statement bothered him. Not the words themselves, he'd heard Reed say them many times before, but the way
he'd said them. Always before, the emphasis had been on the word "thanks", this time it was on "son".
