070: Number One

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He was lonely on his voyages, so he bought a talking bird. But the bastard wouldn't warm up to him, and it hated the microgravity of interstellar travel.
The thing molted constantly, shedding feathers into the instruments, and speckling the air with tiny floating droplets of guano. In the end, he had to buy a pricey micro-gravity cage for the thing before it would even talk to him.
"Ensign, proceed at half impulse."
"What?" he asked.
"Engage." It whistled at him.
He'd given the bird a fancy chair and installed it on his bridge. The bird was captain now.

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