Part 5 (2/2)
”Then you shouldn't have anything to worry about,” the sergeant said.
”Look, sergeant, uh . . . ” Rogers peered at his name tag. ”Sergeant Stract. Really?”
”I was born to be Stan/Eval,” the sergeant said with the utmost seriousness.
”Right,” Rogers said. ”And I was born to acknowledge radio transmissions. I've been in the service a long time. Inspections don't really happen in this fleet.”
”CALL FUNCTION [REPEt.i.tION AND a.s.sURANCE],” the droid said-boy, this one was a talker-”OUTPUT STRING: INSPECTIONS HAPPEN ACCORDING TO A REGULAR AND REGIMENTED SCHEDULE TO WHICH ALL PERSONNEL MUST ADHERE.”
Rogers looked at Sergeant Stract. ”Do you always let droids do your talking for you?”
The sergeant frowned. ”Insults aren't going to help you much, sir. Now, if you'll please stand at attention in the center of your room, we can conduct the inspection.”
”Yeah, I'm not really into standing at attention, either,” Rogers said. ”Look, I'll just sign the bottom of your sheet, and you can mark everything as acceptable, and we can both get on with our day.”
”CALL FUNCTION [PERFORM PRIMARY DUTY]. OUTPUT STRING: REFUSAL TO ABIDE BY MILITARY PROTOCOL,” the droid said. ”ONE DEMERIT WILL BE AWARDED.”
Back in Rogers' day, a ”demerit” was a penalty in a drinking game that necessitated a shot of alcohol. Somehow, he didn't think that's what the droid was talking about.
”CALL FUNCTION [ISSUE ORDER]. TARGET [SERGEANT STRACT],” the droid said. ”a.s.sUME CONTROL OF THE RECORDS.”
”Wait,” Rogers said. ”The droid is leading the inspection?”
The sergeant snapped to attention and grabbed the clipboard like a rifle with a resounding crack.
”I have a.s.sumed control of the records, sir!”
”Did you just call that droid sir?”
The sergeant glared at Rogers. ”As you don't seem to be familiar with military protocol, sir, I will explain that it is customary for us to address those who outrank us by sir or ma'am.”
Rogers stared, dumbstruck, at Sergeant Stract as the droid began walking around the room, its metallic legs clanking against the pseudo-wood floor of the officer stateroom. Stract followed the machine in lockstep, duck-walking in the ridiculous fas.h.i.+on that someone, somewhere along the line had decided looked ”official.” Had Stract been wearing a black-and-white outfit, Rogers would have confused him with a penguin.
”No,” Rogers said. ”No, absolutely not. There's no way this droid has a rank.”
”CALL FUNCTION [DECLARE IDENt.i.tY]. OUTPUT STRING: I AM CYBERMAN FIRST CLa.s.s A-155. CALL FUNCTION [SMUGLY CITE REGULATION]. IN ACCORDANCE WITH THE MERIDAN RANK AND ORGANIZATION REGULATION MR-613, I AM SUPERIOR TO ALL ENLISTED PERSONNEL RANKED E-5 AND BELOW. SERGEANT STRACT'S RANK OF SERGEANT IS E-5 IN THE MERIDAN GALACTIC NAVY.”
”Absolutely, sir,” the sergeant said, nodding. ”An excellent reference to the regulations.”
”Do the regulations say you're supposed to kiss his a.s.s, too?” Rogers asked. ”How do you even know it's a sir and not a ma'am? Does it have an extra pair of turbines between its legs?”
Sergeant Stract didn't seem to find that amusing, though he declined to comment. The droid wiped a gloved hand over the edge of Rogers' bed frame and brought it up to its face.
”CALL FUNCTION [PERFORM PRIMARY DUTY]. DUST PRESENT ON BED. ONE DEMERIT WILL BE AWARDED.”
”What?” Rogers blurted. ”I just got here! How was I supposed to dust everything?” He shook his head, as if to rattle the absurdity out of it. ”Why should I even bother dusting at all? The Meridan Fleet doesn't dust!”
”CALL FUNCTION [PERFORM PRIMARY DUTY]. WARDROBE NOT ARRAYED IN PROPER ORDER. ONE DEMERIT WILL BE AWARDED.”
”I didn't even put that stuff in there! Give a demerit to Suresh in Supply!”
”CALL FUNCTION [PERFORM PRIMARY DUTY]. DESK CHAIR WHEELS IMPROPERLY ROTATED. ONE DEMERIT WILL BE AWARDED.”
”What does that even mean?”
Sergeant Stract was scratching away on the archaic note-taking device with a pencil and following the droid as it made its rounds.
”This is stupid,” Rogers said. ”This is really, really stupid.”
The droid came to the spot on the wall where the propaganda poster had been and paused, its long, horse-like head scanning over the empty spot.
”CALL FUNCTION [PERFORM PRIMARY DUTY]. OUTPUT STRING: INSUFFICIENT MORALE. ONE DEMERIT WILL BE AWARDED.”
Sergeant Stract made a mark on the clipboard, and Rogers was about to break it over his head. All of the events of the past week were building up inside of him to the point of overflow; he found himself fantasizing about visiting tremendous violence on inanimate objects and various people he'd met since he'd come aboard the Flags.h.i.+p. It pushed him to the brink. It made him want to chew off the droid's arm.
Then he broke and did something that no self-respecting military man ever did. He pulled rank.
”Sergeant Stract,” Rogers said, ”as your superior officer, I order you to put that d.a.m.n thing away and get the h.e.l.l out of my room.”
Both the droid and the sergeant froze where they stood. Rogers grinned. He had them!
”But,” the sergeant said.
”No buts,” Rogers said, moving to stand in front of Sergeant Stract. ”Get out. Right now. And never come back.”
Sergeant Stract's left leg twitched, as if to move. Rogers took a deep breath to bark the order a second time.
”CALL FUNCTION [SMUGLY CITE REGULATION]. AUGMENTED FUNCTION [FRUSTRATE SUPERIOR OFFICER]. OUTPUT STRING: MERIDAN STANDARDIZATION AND EVALUATION REGULATION MR-415 STATES THAT ALL PERSONNEL ARE SUBJECT TO INSPECTION AND MUST COMPLY WITH THE INSTRUCTIONS OF THE INSPECTION STAFF IN ORDER TO MAINTAIN GOOD ORDER AND DISCIPLINE IN A MILITARY FAs.h.i.+ON. YOU HAVE ISSUED AN ILLEGAL ORDER.”
Sergeant Stract stood taller behind the protective s.h.i.+eld of his regulation-spouting ”superior,” and the droid turned around to face Rogers.
”CALL FUNCTION [PERFORM PRIMARY DUTY]. OUTPUT STRING: IMPROPER FACIAL HAIR GROOMING. ONE DEMERIT WILL BE AWARDED. AUGMENTED FUNCTION [VEILED INCONVENIENCE] AN APPOINTMENT WITH CYBERMAN SECOND CLa.s.s BAR-BR 116 HAS BEEN SCHEDULED FOR TOMORROW AT 0830.”
”Go galvanize yourself,” Rogers said. ”It'll be a cold day in h.e.l.l before anyone touches my beard.”
”CALL FUNCTION [REQUEST CLARIFICATION]. THE IMPROBABLE AMBIENT TEMPERATURE OF A FICTIONAL AFTERLIFE LOCATION DOES NOT MITIGATE YOUR VIOLATION OF REGULATIONS.”
”Get out of my room!” Rogers shouted, pointing at the door. ”I'm not going to stand here and be lectured on military protocol by a G.o.d-d.a.m.ned s.h.i.+ny!”
The word rebounded off the walls through an instantaneous, tense silence. Sergeant Stract dropped the clipboard and gasped. The droids ”eyes,” two hollow sockets that glowed a soft blue, flashed red for a moment. For some reason, that sent a chill down Rogers' spine.
”REJECT FUNCTION [PROTOCOL 162]. CALL FUNCTION [PERFORM PRIMARY DUTY]. RACIAL SLUR,” the droid intoned. ”FIVE DEMERITS WILL BE AWARDED.” He then turned to Sergeant Stract. ”TARGET CHANGE [SERGEANT STRACT]. LOSS OF MILITARY BEARING IN THE HEAT OF COMBAT. ONE DEMERIT WILL BE AWARDED. CALL FUNCTION [ISSUE ORDER]. PLEASE RETRIEVE THE NOTE-TAKING DEVICE.”
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