Redshirts by John Scalzi

Meet me in my hidey-hole tonight. Same time you were going to invade. I’ll see you then.” He turned to go.
    “May I ask you a question?” Dahl asked.
    “You mean, besides that one?” Jenkins asked.
    “Two, actually,” Dahl said. “Cassaway said they got on that away mission because you didn’t tell them Q’eeng was coming to see them. He said it was retaliation for me trying to find out about you. Was it?”
    “No,” Jenkins said. “I didn’t tell them Q’eeng was on the way because at the time I was taking a dump. I can’t watch everything all the time. What’s your second question?”
    “You told me to stay off the bridge,” Dahl said. “Me and Finn. Why did you do that?”
    “Well, I told your friend Finn because he just happened to be there, and I didn’t think it would hurt, even if he’s a bit of an asshole,” Jenkins said. “But as for you, well. Let’s just say I have a special interest in the Xenobiology Lab. Call it a sentimental attachment. And let’s also just say I guessed that your response to what happens here on the Intrepid would go beyond the usual fear response. So I figured offering you a warning and piece of advice in person couldn’t hurt.”
    Jenkins moved his hand as if to say, See . “And look where we are now. At the very least you’re still alive. So far.” He reached over to the access panel and slapped open the door to return Dahl to the Intrepid . Then he walked off.

CHAPTER NINE
     
    “Come on, ” Jenkins said, and pounded on the display table. Above the table, a holographic image flickered and then died. Jenkins pounded the table again. Dahl looked over to Duvall, who with Hanson, Finn and Hester was jammed into Jenkins’ tiny living space. She rolled her eyes.
    “Sorry,” Jenkins muttered, ostensibly to the five crewmen jammed into his living space, but mostly to himself. “I get equipment when everyone else throws it out. The carts bring it to me. Then I have to repair it. It’s a little buggy sometimes.”
    “It’s all right,” Dahl said. His eyes took a visual tour of his surroundings. Along with Jenkins and the five of them, the delivery cart storage area was jammed with Jenkins’ possessions: the large holographic table, situated between him and the five crew members, a thin cot, a small wardrobe with boxes of hygienic wash wipes piled on it, a pallet of Universal Union away team rations and a portable toilet. Dahl wondered how the toilet was emptied and serviced. He wasn’t sure that he really wanted to know.
    “Is this going to start anytime soon?” asked Hester. “I thought we’d be done by now, and I kind of have to pee.”
    Jenkins motioned to the toilet. “Be my guest,” he said.
    “I’d rather not, ” Hester said.
    “You can just tell us what you want us to know,” Dahl suggested. “We don’t have to have a slide show presentation.”
    “Oh, but you do, ” Jenkins said. “If I just tell you, it’ll sound crazy. Graphs and images make it … well, less crazy, anyway.”
    “Swell,” Finn said, and looked over at Dahl, as if to say Thanks for getting us into this . Dahl shrugged.
    Another table pound by Jenkins, and the holographic image stabilized. “Ha!” Jenkins said. “Okay, I’m ready.”
    “Thank God,” Hester said.
    Jenkins fiddled his hands over the table, accessing a display of flat images parallel to the top of the display table. He found one he wanted and flipped it up into the view of the rest of them.
    “This is the Intrepid, ” Jenkins said, motioning to the rotating graphic that now hovered atop the holographic table. “The flagship of the Universal Union Space Fleet, and one of the fleet’s largest ships. But for all that, one of just thousands of ships in the fleet. For the first nine years of its existence, aside from being appointed the flagship, there was nothing particularly special about it, from a statistical point of view.”
    The Intrepid shrank and was replaced by a graph showing two