After another bracing hike, oito translation exercises, and a lengthy phone call to All-Droid Express, Rimmer took his usual seat in the far back right of the exam room. In the past, this would allow him the greatest vantage point for sidelong glances to other examinees' papers without getting caught, but of course, no one else was in the room with him today, other than a skutter and the proctorbot. Once Rimmer was situated, the skutter jerkingly dropped a sheet of paper face-down on Rimmer's desk. The proctorbot blared the standard warnings and instructions, and then started the clock. Rimmer had three hours to answer a single question.
All right, luck, show me "How many planets are in the solar system?"! He crossed his fingers and flipped the paper over.
"On 4 July 2281, at 0630 ZT, at 4,691 feet above sea level in Callisto's ionosphere, the ship's position was Lat. 21° 15.0' S, Long. 20° 20.0' W. Your vessel is at 13.0 knots on a course of 146° T, and accelerating at 2.0 knots per minute. A sextant observation of the Sun's lower limb is made at 0915 ZT. The chronometer reads 10h 14m 27s, and the sextant altitude is 25° 29.8'. The index error is 3.1' off the arc, and the chronometer is 0m 53s slow. You are 63.25 inches tall, and your height of eye on the bridge is 48.1 feet. What is the azimuth of this sight using the assumed position? Please diagram and label your work."
Huh. Well, he hadn't expected this, but luck must work in mysterious ways. Maybe it was a trick question; he could probably just guess whatever he wanted, and it would be correct. He shrugged, picked up his pen with a dramatic flourish, and began writing. "To know the azimuth of this sight using the assumed position, it is first necessary to know what azimuth is, what the sight is, what the position is, and why it is assumed. The following diagram will clarify these questions." True, he was making it all up on the fly, but what did the marking computer know anyhow? How many times had it taken this exam? Who would you trust to best answer the question, an uptight, out-of-date, twenty-third-century bastard of a software program that had probably never even seen an azimuth, or a real person, down in the trenches, who'd taken the exam thirteen times already, plus done actual astronavigation in real life? There probably wasn't an entity dead or alive who knew better than he did how a proper answer to this question should look.
He rapidly began to scribble a model of Jupiter and its surrounding moons, and drew a large box to represent the ship. Although, to be precise, he should properly contour the vessel, in case atmospheric resistance would be an issue. And he should indicate exactly where he was standing on the bridge, of course. And if he was going to add himself, he should draw in the rest of the crew as well, for scale and to show the weight distribution on the ship. Though assuming it was a mining ship, he'd also need to account for the weight of the equipment in front and cargo in back, plus any passengers. Maybe one thousand, probably roaming about the ship, so he'd best scatter some dots to represent them. And skutters, there must be some skutters on board, and those were deceptively heavy. Better add them in as well, but with triangles. Yes, yes, he could feel the extra points being added! Now though, he'd lost track of himself on the diagram. He located a stick figure and placed a tiny H on its forehead. Not obvious enough. Better add a suit and a row of circles for his Long Service medals. And come to think of it, this was his diagram, and his hypothetical, and he could be an admiral if he wanted. Now was a chance to show the universe what a natural and effective officer he would make! He grabbed his highlighters and carefully commissioned the stick figure a hat and jacket, complete with pips and piping. Though now, of course, he needed to designate the first mate, and a second, and draw a padded seat on the bridge to show where he would sit, and detail the officers' lounge room, and list the current meal being served at mess hall…