Redshirts

said. “Then we dump him down a laundry chute.”

“Shit, here he comes again,” Duvall said. Kerensky was indeed stumbling back toward the trio. His progress was more lateral than forward. He stopped to get his bearings.

“Why don’t you leave him to me,” Dahl said.

“Seriously?” Duvall said.

“Sure, I’ll baby-sit him until he passes out,” Dahl said.

“Man, I owe you a blowjob,” Duvall said.

“What?” Dahl said.

“What?” Hester said.

“Sorry,” Duvall said. “In ground forces, when someone does you a favor you tell them you owe them a sex act. If it’s a little thing, it’s a handjob. Medium, blowjob. Big favor, you owe them a fuck. Force of habit. It’s just an expression.”

“Got it,” Dahl said.

“No actual blowjob forthcoming,” Duvall said. “To be clear.”

“It’s the thought that counts,” Dahl said, and turned to Hester. “What about you? You want to owe me a blowjob, too?”

“I’m thinking about it,” Hester said.

“What’s this I hear about blowjobs?” Kerensky said, finally wobbling up.

“Okay, yes, one owed,” Hester said.

“Excellent,” Dahl said. “See the two of you later, then.” Hester and Duvall backed away precipitately.

“Where are they going?” Kerensky asked, blinking slowly.

“They’re planning a birthday party,” Dahl said. “Why don’t you have a seat, sir.” He motioned to one of the couches in the suite.

“Anatoly,” Kerensky said. “God, I hate it when people use rank on shore leave.” He fell heavily onto the couch, miraculously not spilling his drink. “We’re all brothers in the service, you know? Well, except those of us who are sisters.” He peered around, looking for Duvall. “I like your friend.”

“I know,” Dahl said, also sitting.

“She saved my life, you know,” Kerensky said. “She’s an angel. You think she likes me?”

“No,” Dahl said.

“Why not?” Kerensky blithered, hurt. “Does she like women or something?”

“She’s married to her job,” Dahl said.

“Oh, well, married,” Kerensky said, apparently not hearing the rest of what Dahl said. He drank some more.

“You mind if I ask you a question?” Dahl said.

With the hand not holding his drink, Kerensky made little waving motions as if to say, Go ahead.

“How do you heal so quickly?” Dahl asked.

“What do you mean?” Kerensky asked.

“Remember when you got the Merovian Plague?”

“Of course,” Kerensky said. “I almost died.”

“I know,” Dahl said. “But then a week later you were leading the away team I was on.”

“Well, I got better, you see,” Kerensky said. “They found a cure.”

“Yes,” Dahl said. “I was the one who brought the cure to Commander Q’eeng.”

“That was you?” Kerensky said, and then lunged at Dahl, enveloping him in a bear hug. Kerensky’s drink slopped up the side of the glass and deposited itself down the back of Dahl’s neck. “You saved my life too! This room is filled with people who saved my life. I love you all.” Kerensky started weeping.

“You’re welcome,” Dahl said, prying the sobbing lieutenant off his body as delicately as he could. He was aware of everyone else in the room studiously ignoring what was happening on the couch. “My point was, even with a cure, you healed quickly. And then you were seriously injured on the away mission I was on. And yet a couple of days later you were fine.”

“Oh, well, you know, modern medicine is really good,” Kerensky said. “Plus, I’ve always been a fast healer. It’s a family thing. We’ve got stories about one of my ancestors, in the Great Patriotic War? He was in Stalingrad. Took, like, twenty shots from Nazi bullets and still kept coming at them. He was unreal, man. So I inherited that gene, maybe.” He looked down at his drink. “I know I had more drink than this,” he said.

“It’s a good thing you heal so fast, considering how often you get hurt,” Dahl ventured.

“I know!” Kerensky said, suddenly and forcefully. “Thank you! No one else notices! I mean, what the hell is up with that? I’m not stupid, or clumsy, or anything. But every time I go on an away mission I get all fucked up. Do you know how many times I’ve been, like, shot?”

“Three times in the last three years,” Dahl said.

“Yes!” Kerensky said. “Plus all the other shit that happens to me. You know what it is. Fucking captain and Q’eeng have a voodoo doll of me, or something.” He sat there, brooding, and then showed every sign of being about to drift into sleep.

“A voodoo doll,” Dahl said, startling Kerensky back into consciousness. “You think so.”

“Well, no, not literally,” Kerensky said. “Because that’s just stupid, isn’t it. But it feels like it. It feels like whenever the captain and Q’eeng have an away mission they know is going to be all fucked up they say, ‘Hey, Kerensky, this is a perfect away mission for you,’ and then I go off and, like, get my spleen punctured. And half the time it’s some stupid thing I have no idea about, right? I’m an astrogator, man. I am a fucking brilliant astrogator. I wanna just … astrogate. Right?”

“Why don’t you point that out to the captain and Q’eeng?” Dahl asked.

Kerensky sneered, and his lip quivered at the effort. “Because what the hell am I going to say?” he said, and started making Humpty-Dumpty movements. “‘Oh, I can’t go on this mission, Captain, Commander Q’eeng. Let someone else get stabbed through the eyeball for a change.’” He stopped with the movements and was quiet for a second. “Besides, I don’t know. It seems to make sense at the time, you know?”

“No, I don’t know,” Dahl said.

“When the captain tells me I’m going to be on an away mission, it’s like some other part of my brain takes over,” Kerensky said. He sounded like he was trying to puzzle through something. “I get all confident and it seems like there’s a perfectly good reason for a goddamn astrogator to take medical samples, or fight killer machines or whatever. Then I get back on the Intrepid and I think to myself, ‘What the fuck was I just doing?’ Because it doesn’t make sense, does it?”

“I don’t know,” Dahl said again.

Kerensky looked lost in thought for a second, and then waved it all away. “Anyway, fuck it, right?” he said, brightening up. “I lived another day, I’m on shore leave, and I’m with people who saved my life.” He lunged at Dahl again, even more sloppily. “I love you, man. I do. Let’s get another drink and then go find some hookers. I want a blowjob. You want a blowjob?”

“I’ve already got two on order,” Dahl said. “I’m good.”

“Oh, okay,” Kerensky said. “That’s good.” And then he began to snore, his head nestled on Dahl’s shoulder.

Dahl looked up and saw his four friends staring down at him.

“You all owe me blowjobs,” he said.

“How about a drink instead,” Finn said.

“Deal,” Dahl said. He glanced down at Kerensky. “What do we do about Sleeping Beauty here?”

“There’s a laundry chute outside,” Hester said, hopefully.

CHAPTER SEVEN