“Who do we have up next then?” a cheerful compare asked, looking around the room. “You! You’re up, what are you going to be singing for us?” he asked enthusiastically as he pointed to the Intel officer who had just appeared in the corner of what appeared to be a 21st century drinking establishment. The compare made his way over and pulled the Intel officer towards the makeshift stage. “A bit of Klingon opera?” the compare teased then shook his head. “Nah, doesn’t really seem like your style kid, perhaps something a bit tamer? Maybe a Vulcan Aria?” he proposed.

Mother Hen