Zero Hour (Expeditionary Force, #5)

by Craig Alanson

“It doesn’t look like it. I would have done a better cleaning job if I had spit on this porthole and smeared it around with my butt cheeks.”

Except for one problem. Renee Giraud of the French team informed me that because I had committed such an egregious sacrilege against a staple of French culinary tradition, if we ever returned to Earth, America might be at war with France. I figured I would take that risk.

“Joe, this is like rednecks-on-meth stupid. This is stupid on the level of a buck-naked Florida redneck crashing his stolen truck into a police station to complain that the meth he bought isn’t, you know, methy enough.

“Better a spectacular death than a slow one,” Chang suggested, confirming why he would not be a good choice as the ship’s Morale Officer.

When Chotek decided he had heard the wonderful sound of his own voice long enough for the moment,