I figured Winston had never had the talk (shame on his father), so I prepared myself mentally to share my vast experience-based knowledge with him.

     “You want to know why he winked at us, or what they’re planning to do, the good Captain and his scantily-clad, green-skinned companion?”

     “What? No,” Winston said. Prior indiscretions had made me request a replacement for him, but Winston had grown on me in that time; I’ll have to remember to cancel the transfer request.

     “Then what?” I said.

     “The Grumbles-Against-Earth ratings. Some people call them gee-ah-vee and others call them gee-oh-vee. Which one is it? Ah or oh? And what’s the vee stand for? Shouldn’t it be gee-ah-eee or tee or something?”

     I stared at him. I’ll have to remember to not remember to cancel the request to have Winston transferred out. Anyone who had the time to think about such things was not someone I wanted as First Officer.

     “That’s a good point, Winston,” I said, standing up. That was his queue to leave.

     After he’d gone, I sunk back into my chair and wondered when I’d get some rest. Two episodes ago—Captain Courageous played on a weekly schedule—my crew had all gotten some lost time. It was unauthorized leave—how else could I get vacation time?—so when the call from the Board came, it was me and me alone that went back to work, taking care of some rowdy colonists in an efficient but humane way. It was such a close call that I’d sworn off ever taking any more lost time.

     My wallowing in self-pity was interrupted by a beep from the desk, followed by a drawn-out gurgling sound, like a cat dying slowly but painfully. I pushed off the obstructions—papers and books and a Captain Courageous figurine—freeing the screen, which lifted off the desk.

     “Admiral Ed!” I said. His face had already materialized; probably he’d been staring at oak for a moment or two.

     “Long time no see, Wick,” Admiral Ed said.

     The good Admiral calls me Wick because that was my nickname in the academy. I earned the name because I was hot as a lit wick (and not because I was as stringy as a wick, as some—the Admiral, for example—would tell it). He calls me Wick because it’s a reminder of the good old days, and of the closeness we share now because of the closeness we shared then. And also because he’s an idiot who can’t let an old joke die.

     “So what’s the good news, Admiral?” I said, stressing his new title. His promotion had come as a blow to me; I had been voted Most Likely to Succeed (and legitimately so, without tampering with the tabulation program in any way whatsoever, as some—the Admiral, for example—would tell it).

     “I’m leaving for Prima next week,” the Admiral said. “And I’d like you to come with me. We can tell old stories about the academy days. You can make up stuff about the girls you dated back then, and I’ll pretend to believe you.”

     I looked at him suspiciously. How had he known I’d been thinking about vacationing? Maybe the Doctor ratted me out; told the Board I have high blood pressure; he’s stressed out, needs a break. That rat! I knew I should’ve skipped those physicals.

     “You got clearance for me?” I said hopefully. I’d used up all my leave time—and more, diving far into the negative—years ago, chasing a treasure that wasn’t there to be found. If I worked the next three years straight, I still wouldn’t work off my debt.

     “No,” the Admiral said, and I felt my heart sink. “But I can get it. I’m an Admiral, now, remember.” He winked at me condescendingly.

     But the next day, he didn’t look so smug.

     “No clearance, huh?” I said. Somehow, it didn’t feel so bad. It was good for Ed to be chopped down to size, even if it meant I wouldn’t be going to Prima.

     “Sorry, Wick,” he said. “But it won’t go through the system, you know? Not until your leave is out of the red.”

     “I guess it’s true what they say, eh?”

     “What’s that?” the Admiral said, though I felt he already knew.

     Reaching to cut the connection, I said glumly, and half to myself, “No rest for the Wick, Ed.”