Commodore
“O'Toole performed a final inspection of the galley and then, still totally without a clue as to what was really going on, renewed my certification. "Uh…" he said softly, examining my score. "I'm supposed to caution you to bone up on your dishwashing skills, sir, even though you passed. Your score in that area is yellow-zone." I blushed under my fur. "I promise!" Then Nestor and I were sitting in my cabin, the plastic pea slowly dissolving in a bowl of paint thinner. "It's amazing," I commented ...as I stared down at the thing. "He even made a little dent in it, and colored one side a bit lighter green than the other." "He probably makes models or something as a hobby," Nestor agreed. "Little ships or soldiers most likely, him being an Imperial." Then the plastic pea went fuzzy, and before our eyes the outlines of a standard micro-datacube began to emerge. In practically no time we had it popped into Nestor's reader and he was scanning the contents. "It's in two parts," Nestor observed. "My machine can't parse the second.MoreLess
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