“You’re not going to make me laugh.”

“Please, it's my job. I have a quota.”

“Liar,” the large gruff man said as he walked away.

“Don’t mind him,” Samantha said entering the crew mess, “Hyperdrive Engineers have no sense of humor.”

“How about navigators?”

“Oh yeah, we hold open mikes back at mission control.”

I laughed, “Careful. You’re going to steal my job.”

“Or I could have your job anytime I wanted, but that leaves you to navigate and we’d end up in the middle of a star.”

“That’s not nice,” I said, winking.

“By the way, the Commander would like to see you in his quarters.”

“Oh boy.”

“I’m sure it’s nothing.”

“I doubt it. He’d have me spacewalk with no suit if it was up to him.”

She snorted, “Now that’s funny.”

I headed for the Commander’s quarters, thankful to be on a Cruiser class starship. It’s the smallest type in the fleet with artificial gravity. Having to float everywhere loses its appeal after a while.

I knocked on the Commander’s door, “You rang?”

“Sit.”

Oh boy, I thought.

“You wanted to see me?”

“I’ve gotten several reports about you joking with the crew.”

“That’s my job sir. I’m the Morale Officer.”

“I’m aware of your title.”

The Commander hated my position. A few years ago, the top brass at the Alliance realized if you only sent dour scientists and no-nonsense military types on multi-year missions the crew members nearly lost it. Hence, my position. It was my job to keep people happy, entertained and make sure the stress level didn’t get too high.

“Has there been a complaint?”

“Nothing official. But several people have come to me saying you’ve been bugging them while working.”

“I’m supposed to make contact and assess each crew member at least once a week.”

“I get that the brain gang needs their hands held from time to time but my crew doesn’t need knock-knock jokes while they’re working. They’re all doing important jobs here.”

Translation, he’d much rather have another Thruster Mechanic or Bosun rather than a former Lunar Cruise director with a brief but promising stand-up career. I also knew it bugged the commander that I was a contractor from the Alliance and technically not part of his command structure.

“I’ll make sure they aren’t busy when I speak to them.”

“Fair enough. Dismissed.”

“Cool. It’s improv night in the galley anyway.”

I left before he could throw something at me.

The rest of the shift was rather innocuous. I checked around to see how most people were doing and got a couple laughs by the engine bay which is always fun.

The next morning I was alerted by the AI droid that a meeting was called and all officers, even me, were needed in the stateroom.

“A title ship is passing,” the Commander said, “There’s a dinner planned as Admiral Quail is celebrating the anniversary of his victory over the Gren.”

“As such, we will be sending our full complement of officers to the dinner. So, I’d like all of you in your dress uniform by 1300 hours.”

The room sounded with a chorus of “Yes, sirs.”

“Oh,” the commander, “Per the Alliance by-laws. One member of the brass will stay aboard.”

I already knew who he was going to pick. I was the perfect candidate. To the commander, I was redundant anyway so I wouldn’t be taking up other officers’ chances to get facetime with the senior staff. Plus, my presence wouldn’t bode well anyway. Most of the military didn’t like the program that put people like me in their ranks.

And I was sure he didn’t want me embarrassing him in front of a war hero like Quail.

Two hours later, I said my goodbyes to Samantha.

“Maybe next time you’ll get to come,” she said.

“Doubtful.”

“Well, they could always use a court jester.”

“Very funny.”

They loaded into the transfer ship and departed.

I and the senior enlisted saw them off.

“Well, I’m going to go take a nap in the Commander’s office,” I said, getting a laugh from the room.

An hour later, I was woken up by several alarms. The AI Droid as well as the Chief of the Ship was in the room.

“Sir. Sir.”

“What’s going on?” I asked.

“The Gren attacked. The title ship has been destroyed,” the Droid said.

“Oh god, any escape pods.”

“No,” the Chief said, “we can’t make contact with any officers. The ship is yours, sir. And the Gren have surrounded us.”

“Can’t you take over?” I asked the droid.

“Sir Alliance bylaws dictate the ship must remain in human hands, and as senior most officer, that’s you Commander.”

“You’re joking right?”

“I believe that’s your job sir.”

All I could do was laugh.