The ship suddenly stops. No enemy fighters. The Hiyabuddie is light years out of harm’s way.

You feel queasy. You’re breathing hard. This is not going to end well. You get up to use the captain’s toilet, then trip on a strip of emergency floor lights. As you hit the ground, cosmic corn chowder spreads across the chrome floors. HP-8720 slips on the vomit, causing him to short circuit. The entire crew is horrified. But the good news is that with your long track record of government service, after the shame fades from public memory, you’ll be given a lucrative position as a space lobbyist.

THE END

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