“Stand easy!”
At the barked command, the others in the room relaxed slightly and returned to their conversations, though many a curious and suspicious glance was directed at their group.
“Oh no,” the Legionnaire said softly, almost in a groan.
The company commander was bearing down on them, his face set in a grim mask, while his junior officers and a few of his sergeants materialized out of the crowd to trail along casually in his wake.
The entourage halted before the offending group, and the commander swept them all, standing and prone, with a steely gaze before fixing his eyes on the distraught Legionnaire.
“Well? Should I ask?” he said in a tone as icy as the void outside the ship’s hull.
“I didn’t do anything! Really, Captain!” the Legionnaire protested desperately. “We were just standing here talking and-“
“It’s no big deal, sir,” Doc said, stepping forward. “My son and I were just giving the others here a little demonstration. Didn’t think it would get everyone riled up.”
“Demonstration?”
“That’s right.”
Doc extended a hand down to his son, who seized his wrist and bounced lightly to his feet, apparently unharmed.
“Guess you haven’t had a chance to go over our files, Captain,” Doc continued easily. “Junior and me are stuntmen.”
“I see,” the commander said, thawing slightly. “Well, I’d appreciate it if you’d refrain from any further `demonstrations.’ Or at least give us a bit of warning. We try to discourage fighting, or even the appearance of fighting, at social gatherings.”
“No problem … sir.” Doc shrugged. “Sorry, but we’re still learning the ins and outs of this crew.”