“FIGHT SQUADRON REARGUARD BEAGLES TO THE READY!” blared the tannoy on Defence Cruiser Lexonus. Hundreds of uniformed creatures ran along the corridors towards their space craft.

Corporal Simm looked to his left.

“What are we going to do?” he asked the hairy-faced Conform next to him.

“I don't know,” barked Captain Cormitz, the only Conform in the Lexon space corps. The Conforms were an ancient race descended from canine roots, and the majority were not intelligent enough for any type of skilled labour, let alone to be put in charge of a lethal war machine. They had been named Conforms for their excellence in doing anything that had already been done. They could blend in and copy like no-one else.

“It's really not a good day for The Simeon to be on holiday is it?” Corporal Simm sighed. “A thousand years since the last battle, and the only man qualified to lead a defence strategy is lying on the beach.”

“Can we not just call him?” asked Captain Cormitz gruffly.

“I'm afraid not,” Simm replied. “He's left his SignaPhone at home. He got quite angry last year when young Gorpps over there teleported him back to enforce the washing up rota. This year he's told absolutely nobody where he's gone, and has made sure that he is completely uncontactable.”

“Ahh.” Captain Cormitz had summed up both of their thoughts perfectly. “I guess we need to come up with something ourselves then.”

“Very good Sir.” Corporal Simm always reverted to formalities when he was about to be given orders. “What did you have in mind?”

“Tell them to shoot the Crawkling ships.”

“A fine plan,” Simm agreed. “If they follow it perfectly it cannot fail.”

“Exactly.”

“FIGHT SQUADRON REARGUARD BEAGLES!!” shouted the tannoy. “YOUR DIRECT ORDER IS TO SHOOT CRAWKLING SHIPS ON SIGHT. REPEAT, SHOOT CRAWKLING SHIPS ON SIGHT!”

“I don't mind whether they can see them or not,” Captain Cormitz corrected. “They can shoot them in any way possible.”

“CORRECTION. SHOOT CRAWKLING SHIPS IN ANY WAY POSSIBLE. I REPEAT, SHOOT IN ANY WAY POSSIBLE.”

Although he was a Beagle, like the majority of the Rearguard Beagles, Simm had about as much common sense as the Conform, Captain Cormitz. In his case however, this was completely due to laziness. It did mean that Captain Cormitz and Corporal Simm had a very patient, relaxed and amicable working relationship. Even the smallest things filled them both with a sense of achievement.

“That should do it,” Captain Cormitz smiled, sitting back in his swivel chair with a hot cup of tea. “Good work Simm.”

Simm looked away from his leader, always bashful under praise.