The Kruton Interface by John Dechancie

Wanker said, “he’s Polish.”
    “Well, that’s different. I was worried there for a moment. As I was saying, uh, regarding the engineer, the Proust device is a star drive and a complete engineering system. Regarding the captain … well, just about anything can replace a captain of a ship. All you need is a peg leg, a parrot, and a pillar of salt.”
    “What about the radically new star drive?” Rhodes asked.
    “Oh, that. Nothing big. Just instantaneous travel to anywhere in the universe.”  
    “Wow!”
    “A trifle. That’s mostly theory right now, but even as the new drive is configured, we ought to be able to treble this ship’s cruising speed.”
    “Wonderful!” Captain Wanker enthused. “I’m all for it. Please go install your device and leave me alone. You bore me.”
    Strangefinger took the cigar from his mouth. “Sir,   I take umbrage at that remark. But I’m a peaceable man, so it’s all water under the umbrage tome.”        .
    “Why does he keep doing that?” Wanker demanded of Rhodes.
    “He’s a serial punster.”
    “But why ?”
    Strangefinger struck a melodramatic pose. “All right, I’ll go! Throw me out like a worn-out shoe—my lawyer and I will shoe you for everything you’ve got!”
    “Do I have to call Security?”
    “Go ahead. Call Security. Call Social Security, for all I care. Tell them your check was stolen and you’re a widow and need comforting.”
    “LEAVE THE BRIDGE!” Wanker screamed.  
    Dr. O’Gandhi helped the recovered Darvona to her feet.
    “Very well,” Strangefinger said. “I go to make history.” He pointed at Darvona. “Or her story. But first I’d like to freshen up after my long trip.”
    Wanker ordered, “Mr. Rhodes, escort this gentleman to the guest quarters.”
    “I’ll do it, sir!” Darvona said, still a bit flushed and overexcited.
    “Ms. Roundheels, stay at your post.”
    “Have a heart, Captain,” Strangefinger pleaded. “Can’t you see she wants to make it up to me? She’s a simple woman with simple needs. Her won’ts are few.”
    “I’m waiting for the right man to come along,” Darvona said. “Meanwhile, there’s nothing wrong with having some fun with the wrong ones.”
    “Couldn’t have said it better myself.” Again, the physicist’s eyebrows did their lascivious dance.
    “Ms. Roundheels, you will please—” Wanker made a despairing gesture. “Oh, go ahead, what do I give a damn.”
    Darvona’s ample hips swayed as she went to Strangefinger, who took her hand.
    “Where have you been all my life?” the scientist asked. “And when are you going back?”
    Darvona turned, let go of his hand, and hip-wiggled away. “Walk this way, Doctor.”
    “If I could walk that way I wouldn’t be a doctor.”
    When they had mounted the blow tube pad, Darvona hit SUCK and threw her arms around the bespectacled visitor. The tube carried them up together.
    Wanker was fretting. “I tell you, Command Central has it in for me. I have enemies, many enemies.”
    “Isn’t that a bit paranoid, sir?” Rhodes asked.
    “As a personality style, I’m rather fond of paranoia. It’s safer than trust and optimism.”
    “I don’t quite follow, sir.”
    “No, you wouldn’t.”
    A beeping came from the general vicinity of Darvona’s comm console.
    Warner-Hillary ran to answer the call. “Cosmophone contact from Command Central, Captain. It’s Admiral Lyman Dickover, calling for you, sir.”
    “Old Trickie Dickie again! He’s in on the plot for sure. He’s hated me since I stole his girl at Space Academy.  
    It was a fib, but it was better than telling the real reason. Wanker had blurted that Dickover had gone AWOL over a weekend to see his girlfriend, and was overheard by an upper classman, who turned Dickover in. Dickover had never forgiven Wanker.  
    “Put him on the big screen, Lieutenant.”
    Wanker turned to face a blank view screen. “Oh, I forgot. Wonderful! Well, the little screen, then.”
    “Aye-aye,