Something is brewing in the galaxy, and it's not a double shot of espresso. With the dust barely settled after the last near-Armageddon, the four baristas are called back into action, even though the four have become three. With a little help from...
"Well sir, re-entry was a little tricky, but our tug-shuttles managed to keep the spaceport section intact. I'm happy to confirm both the section and its barista passengers have been safely deposited on the planet's surface."
"Excellent. Right, set a course for Rigel, stat. The sooner we scrunch away from this dump and those bloody baristas, the happier I'll be."
"But, sir—shouldn't we stay in-system? In order to monitor the baristas' position until the admiral is ready for them?"
"Stay here? Are you freaking kidding me? If we do that, then who do you think is gonna get lumped with the job of picking those superpowered freaks back up again? I've had quite enough barista-sitting for one lifetime, thank you very much. Besides, half our crew is already down there with them. How much more monitoring do they need?"
"Yes, sir. But we haven't heard from the boarding parties for quite some time. And the last few communications were somewhat..er..."
"Yes, they were a bit, weren't they? Tell you what, pick some volunteers to stick in a shuttle, park the poor bastards in orbit so they can keep an eye on things, and then get us the hell out of here. And tell navigation to see if they can maybe sideswipe an asteroid or two along the way, while they're at it. If we're a couple of hundred light years away with the ship in the body shop when the call goes out, then the bigwigs will just have to give the gig to some other unsuspecting saps."
"But, sir—"
"Listen, XO, if you're so keen to stick around, how about I put you in charge of the shuttle we leave behind? Your very first command. How about that? Sound good?"
"What? Me? No way! Er, I mean thank you for your...consideration, sir, but I couldn't possibly deprive one of the more junior officers of such a valuable opportunity."
"No. No, I'm sure you couldn't. Tell me, XO, do we even have any junior officers left?"
"Uh, let me see. I believe the head of catering is still on board, sir."
"Not for long, he's not. Get him on that shuttle and then get us out of here."
"Yes, sir."
"Oh, and XO? One more thing."
"What's that, sir?"
"How are you with a spatula?"
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"Where are we?"
"No idea." Cora held up her communicator. "No hypersat coverage."
Standing in the shadow of the battered and misshapen spaceport section that had so recently been their prison, the two baristas regarded the arid, windswept vista stretched out before them. Through the heat-haze rising from the cracked tarmac, a line of buildings was just visible in the far distance.
