EPISODE CCLII - BOHEMIAN RASPBERRIES

"Steady, Spam Squadron", Ghostrider breathed into his communicator, "stay in formation."

Energy beams screamed from the assembled fighters, extinguishing several oncoming Kamasutra Drones, but not dwindling their numbers as rapidly as Jennings would like. He itched to throttle up and take the battle to the Wyzenhymer force, but new his current position was the most tactically sound. They were a shield, albeit an expensive and higly trained one, and that was his mission. He'd just have to suck it up. Not everyone was of the same mind.
Spam-5 fed power to his thrusters and shot recklessly toward the Drones.

"McGinnis, come in", Jennings shouted into the mike. He turned to either side, ensuring he only had the one renegade. "Anybody else moves, I'll shoot you down myself!", he advised as he helplessly watched McGinnis's meet the swarm of smaller vessels.  "Damned promotion board", he muttered.

McGinnis passed through the cloud unscathed, wheeling to take another pass. Jennings breathed a sigh of relief, cinching his harness more tightly as the Drones ate up distance. "Close up that gap, gentlemen, and feed auxilliary power to shields. This is going to hurt."

Orwig stirred from his deep slumber, his head throbbing and mouth dry. He realized he was in sick bay, but couldn't recall why. It had something to do with that prairie skank who'd stolen his shirt, he was certain, but the specifics of his blackout lacked definition.

Nurse Yahbo entered the room and smiled when she saw him awake. "It's about time, Corporal. I was about to write you up for dereliction of duty."

"Has it been that long?", he asked in a hoarse voice.

She nodded, setting a pitcher of water beside his bed. "Fifty-Two hours to be exact."

"Wow." He was impressed. "Has anything exciting happened?"

"Mmmm, not really", she replied as she fluffed his pillow, "we did get back to our own time. Oh, and we were attacked as soon as we got back. And then another ship got into a fight with the ship that was attacking us."

Orwig digested the information with concern. "Is that it?!?"

"Well, I didn't want to alarm you, but we're currently under attack by unmanned kamikaze star fighters."

Orwig pushed back his blankets and struggled to stand, but Nurse Yahbo put him flat on his back with a gentle push to the chest. "There's nothing you can do, Corporal", she assured him as she tucked his blanket around him.  "Just relax and hope for the best."

He strained against the cocoon-like confines or the bedding, but in his weakened condition, barely managed to free a hand.

"She said relax, Corporal", Mr. Proteau reiterated, entering the room.

"Sorry, sir. I just want to do my part."

Proteau shook his head and smiled. "Your part right now, is to get better. And that's an order."

"Aye-aye, sir", Orwig answered.

"Sorry to hear about your promotion", Nurse Yahbo said, coming over to tuck Orwig's free arm back under the blanket.

"That's alright, ma'am," Proteau mangaed. "Maybe next time."

"You got passed over again!?!" Orwig exclaimed. "That's horse shi-"

"Corporal, there's a lady present", the Security Officer advised.

"Oh, sorry." He shifted uneasily beneath his covers. "I just can't believe you didn't get your promotion."

"It was disappointing, I admit, but most disturbing was the reason behind Space Fleet's decision."

"Because you're left-handed", Orwig offered, finally finding his comfy spot.

"Yes...that's right", Proteau muttered, surprised at his subordinates candor. "You don't seem surprised."

"Why should I be? Everybody knows you'd be commanding your own ship if you weren't...you know", he shifted again uncomfortably, "...a lefty."

Proteau turned to Nurse Yahbo, who nodded her agreement.  "Haven't you ever wondered why so many stupid people get promoted more rapidly than you?" she asked.

"It had crossed my mind, but I thought they were just brown-nosers and suck-ups."

She shrugged. "Well, most are, but your main problem is your handedness."

"But you're left-handed", the security officer reminded her.

"And have a PHD from Space Western University", she added with contempt, "and ten years of clinical experience, not to mention a Nobel Peace Prize for my efforts in counter-cultural innoculation...and...and...I still have to work for that quack Egan..." she trailed off into a fit of sobbing.

Proteau reached over to console her.

"I'm alright", she sniffed, "it's just discouraging."

Proteau patted her awkwardly on the shoulder. 

After several uncomfortable minutes Nurse Yahbo wiped the tears from her cheeks, her jaw set. "I'll tell you one thing, though. I'm tired of being hassled by Righty!"

Pu'Chabba's threat indicator chirped, indicating a threat. It was uncanny. The bounty hunter scanned the area and noted two ships moving rapidly in his direction. He engaged the cloaking device and looked over at his dead comrade. "Let's finish this, Mushi."