Warnings: crackfic (again, sorry), Keeler is indiscreet and a bit of a jerk, Keeler is going to end up court-martialed.

I admire the many talented, creative writers of this fandom and their characterizations of the Starfighter cast. Perv!Keeler (perpetrated first by EliseTales on AO3, I believe?) in particular is quite amusing. In this nonsense-fic, all the norms about confidentiality relating to HR will be broken for the sake of humor.

Performance Appraisal

Lieutenant Keeler stood to attention in Commander Cook's office, waiting for Cook to bring up the annual review folder on the viewing screen behind his desk.

"At ease. Take a seat, Keeler," Cook said, gesturing to a chair. "This might take a while."

Keeler sat, smiling innocently. Cook looked at him narrowly before turning to the screen.

"Your performance this year has been satisfactory. General Brahe commends you for your work with the starfighter engine configuration improvements and for your dedication to the Sleipnir's mission."

"Thank you, sir."

"However…" Cook selected another file, entitled 'Complaints: Identifiable Information Omitted.' The massive document slowly loaded. 'Download time remaining: 7 minutes 45 seconds' flashed on the screen. "The issue of improper fraternization remains."

Keeler appeared genuinely surprised. "Goodness, is that my complaint file? It's at least a third larger than I expected."

Cook frowned. "This year, to date, Human Resources staff has recorded ninety-three exhaustively detailed complaints, mostly about your relationships with various navigators and fighters."

"Oh, I wouldn't call them relationships, sir," Keeler demurred. "Just a little romance here and there—flings, really."

"Seventy-one of the complaints are from personnel who complained about public displays of affection," Cook interrupted him, scrolling through the partially-loaded file. "For example: Lieutenant Keeler makes out with his boyfriend during breaks at my workstation even though he has an office."

"Not my boyfriend," Keeler assured Cook, who ignored him.

"Another: I walked in on Lieutenant Keeler doing his boyfriend in the lift twice last week."

Keeler huffed. "Whoever he is, he's not my boyfriend either! I don't have boyfriends."

Cook glowered and Keeler quieted. "An additional fifteen complaints are from navigators and fighters who did, in fact, consider themselves your boyfriends and complained that you cheated on them."

Keeler shrugged. "Well, sir, I try to make it clear to my, uh, dates that I am not interested in anything exclusive. It's not my fault they don't listen."

Cook paged through the file again and read aloud, "I caught Keeler feeling up some guy in the mess but just the day before he'd told me he loved me."

"Hmm, I don't recall…"

"Lars said after the war we'd settle on Mars and buy a townhouse and have babies but then he fucked my navigator on my bed while I was showering!"

"All the bunks look alike. How was I supposed to know which one was his?"

Cook folded his arms, his ire increasing. "This behavior must not continue, Lieutenant. Our mission will soon reach a critical stage, and I cannot have you and half of our teams distracted by your imprudence."

Keeler nodded. "Understood, sir. I will strive for the utmost discretion."

"That's what you said at the mid-year review."

"What if I let at least three days pass between flings?"

Cook gave up, again. "Whatever ensures that the men do not have further cause to complain."

"Very well, sir."

"Dismissed."

Keeler stood, but hesitated. "What about the other complaints?" he asked. "You said there were ninety-three."

Cook scrolled to the end of the document. "Ah, yes. Seven complaints that you take up more than your half of the bathroom counter with your hair styling implements; that your hair clogs the shower drain but you don't clean it out; and that sometimes after drinking you puke on your roommate's bed."

"I can't help that he chose the bed closer to the door, sir, but I suppose I can tidy up the bathroom for Encke. I'd hate to upset him. He's really such a sweetheart, and his abs are chiseled."

"I'll note that as minor progress in the evaluation of your interpersonal skills," Cook said after a pause. "That will be all. Dismissed."

After Keeler left, Cook waved his assistant into his office. "Copernicus, has legal counsel replied to my question yet?"

Copernicus had worked with Cook loyally for many years, since they were cadets climbing into the starfighter prototypes. He was especially valuable because he was immune to Keeler's charms and firmly believed that his hair was better than Keeler's. "A reply came in this morning," he told Cook. "They think it possible for the lieutenant to be taken to the Alliance court for several incidents of indecency, but that the case would be thrown out, since most of the witnesses are biased."

"How so?"

"They have admitted to crushes on the lieutenant too—in spite of his unruly hair," Copernicus clarified with a contemptuous sniff.

Cook took a deep breath and counted slowly to ten. "Well. It's good to hear that the Sleipnir won't lose an officer before our offensive against the Colterons commences. Remind me to send Lieutenant Keeler away on shore leave as soon as we are back in Alliance space."

"With pleasure," muttered Copernicus, tapping a note on his tablet.

Exciting post-script, for the brave of heart:

Meanwhile, elsewhere on the Sleipnir…

Tim, the competent Human Resources manager, opened a blank complaint form on his tablet and nodded at the visitor. "Go ahead, Commander."

Bering heaved a heartfelt sigh and began, "Lieutenant Keeler pinched my rear again today before the morning officers' meeting, even though I had told him he shouldn't do that in public…"

Long-suffering Tim carefully recorded everything and wondered what the big deal with Keeler was. He had slept with Keeler ages ago and thought him just average.

Maybe Keeler had learned a thing or two from Tim.