"Is that any kind of language to use on your superior officer in the Special Corps?" He asked and refilled the cup. "It's a good thing we're a relaxed organization without too many rules. Still—there are limits." He held out the cup again and this time I grabbed it and drained it.
"Why did you do it?" I asked, still wracked by conflicting emotions.
"Because you didn't, that's why. The operation is over, you are a success. Before you were merely on probation, but now you are a full agent."
He grubbed in one pocket and pulled out a little gold star made of paper. After licking it carefully and solemnly he reached out and stuck it to the front of my shirt.
"I hereby appoint you a Full Agent of the Special Corps," he intoned, "by authority of the power vested in me."
Cursing, I reached to pick the damn thing off—and laughed instead. It was absurd. It was also a fine commentary on the honors that went with the job.
"I thought I was no longer a member of the crew," I told him.
"I never received your resignation," Inskipp said. "Not that it would have meant anything. You can't resign from the Corps."
"Yeah—but I got your message when you gave me a discharge. Or did you forget that I stole a ship and you set off the scuttling charge by remote to blow me up? As you see I managed to pull the fuse just before it let go."
"Nothing of the sort, my boy," he said, settling back to sip his second drink. "You were so insistent about looking for the fair Angelina that I thought you might want to borrow a ship before we had a chance to assign you one. The one you took had the fuse rigged as it always is on these occasions. The fuse—not the charge—is set to explode five seconds after it is removed. I find this gives a certain independence of mind to prospective agents who regret their manner of departure."