Lt. Marcus Ming navigated the corridors of Starbase Three.  He was worried about Sh’iv.  He felt her sense of impending doom in the briefing.  It was a strong enough emotion, given their close proximity, that he couldn’t miss it.  That and they’d served together long enough that, while he couldn’t often read her, he did know her mind’s thumbprint.  She was his right hand and someone he’d come to care about as a friend.

As he’d walked, there were some rather official and casual nods.   After a few minutes, he found the place he was looking for and walked in.  He made his way to the bar, ordered a pint of synthoholic pilsner, and looked around.  The bartender and he exchanged a few sentances before he collected his pint before finding his way to the table where Lt (JG) Esessa Sh’ivhohlol sat.  Coming up to an empty chair, he looked at her and asked, “May I join you?”

Sh’iv eyes shifted from her untouched Andorian Ale to Marcus. “Of course.”

Ming gave his XO a friendly nod and smile of appreciation before sitting down and placing his drink on the table.  He stared into his drink for a long moment to think, and he exhaled through his nose with a slightly lopsided grin, “Nothing like that sorta news landing into your lap.  This is going to be the largest force I have ever commanded.  I’m sure of myself for the most part but damn….Nothing like getting railroaded.”

He took a deep breath, took a sip of his drink, then continued after he swallowed, “I am unsure I can adequately state how much I appreciate you.  I knew being an XO, I was appreciated, but damn….It’s quite a different feeling being on this side of things.  Without flattery, I can honestly state that you’re the best XO I could’ve hoped for.  You’ve done so much for me, and I hate to ask more about this flight. But for this upcomming mission I will need you more than ever.”

Sh’iv’s antennae twitched as she took a slow sip, savoring the taste. She mulled over his words, the weight of her response pressing on her mind. Her gaze flickered to the table, then back up to him. With a soft exhale, she set her glass on the table with a soft clunk of glass on wood.  She stared into the swirling liquid and crossed her arms, resting them on the table.

“You’re a damn fine CO,” she said, her voice quiet but sure. “And I’d follow you through the Gates of Gal’kor, if need be… risk my life just to make sure you see another sunrise.”

Marcus was touched by his XO’s words when her doom and gloom sprang back into the back of his mind.  He replied, “I graduated with damned high marks in Astronautics and Astronautical tactics at the Academy.  Top fifth of my class overall.  I’ve commanded fighters as XO of the Rangers and, later, CO of the Knights in peace and in battle.  Now I am set to command more pilots then ever before in a mission vastly more critical than ever before.   My best friend once told me that he could swear I never felt fear a day in my life.  He knew better of course but he also often said that he felt that I had one of the best Poker faces in the Alpha Quadrant.  I frankly am shocked nobody has noticed how utterly nervous I feel.  If I didn’t know you were on my wing I’d likely be an emotional wreck.”

She smirked. “You Pinkskins have an expression; I believe… ‘from the mouths of babes.”

Marcus actually laughed at that one.  He produced the only Andorian word he knew that would fit saying, “Shoshi.”

He sighed then looked the Andorian Shen straight in the eyes as something struck him.  In that moment and even years later he would never know what prompted him to say, “I give you my word:  I will have your wing as you have mine.  I will see that next sunrise if you see it with me.  I WILL storm those gates, lay waste to Gal’kor then march back out if you do so with me.  If I cannot meet this oath I expect a full accounting and rebuke from my ancestors.”

Sh’iv took a long drink of her ale, letting the strong alcohol burn its way down her throat. It helped, just a little, to dull the edge of the tightness in her chest, the unease she couldn’t quite shake. She knew better than most that the odds were never in their favor, no matter how many missions she’d survived. She stared at her drink, avoiding Marcus’s gaze momentarily before speaking. “Lieutenant, you shouldn’t make promises you can’t keep.”

Her voice was steady, but beneath it, the words felt like they were taunting her. How many pilots better than she had left on easier missions than this one and never returned, leaving an empty bunk and a sea chest filled with personal items ready to be shipped back to next of kin the next time their ship arrived at a starbase?

Marcus took another sip of his drink before he replied, Well, we will have to make sure we don’t make a liar out of me.  I’ve said what I have said, so that seems to be the best option now, doesn’t it?”

Sh’iv smirked, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. She glanced down at her drink again, and for a moment, it felt like the room was closing in on her. She would hold him to it; she had no choice. But she had lived long enough to know that promises didn’t mean much in the void. Chaos was coming, and it didn’t care about what people promised each other.

“I’ll hold you to it, sir,” she said, her voice low but resolute. It was a half-hearted attempt at humor, a way to mask the unease that still lingered in her gut.

“You do that.  We’ve got one of the very best flights in the 335th.  We have the skills to fly and lead our half of the mission to a win.   We can do that by focusing on the mission and what is in front of us while we are out there.  We just do what we have been doing and keep it to the basics.   That is a message we need to make sure ALL of Bravo and Charlie flights take to heart.  That starts with both of us.  I have learned that approach while out there DESPITE my tendencies here on the ground.  I need your assurance you can do that, too,” he said with heartfelt conviction as he kept his eyes on hers.

Sh’iv downed the rest of her drink in one go, feeling the heat of the alcohol spread through her. She set the glass down with a quiet clink, staring into the empty frosted glass like it could give her the needed answers. “Of course,” she muttered, the words tasting like ash in her mouth. “Chaos be damned.”

Marcus studied his XO for a long moment.  He genuinely cared for this woman as his XO and his friend.  Losing her would be not far from feeling like losing family.

Finishing HIS drink in two gulps he then tilted his head and said softly, “Not many people know that I have fair to middling ESPer abilities for a human.  I’ve worked with Vulcans and a very fun Denobulan/Betazoid greasemonkey.  It’s rare I can reach out over distances unless the other person is telepathic such as the species I just mentioned. Somehow I’ve developed a rather unique ability to….feel my spacial surroundings.  A couple of my astrometric tactical instructors were convinced I was cheating but could never could prove it.”

The Lieutenant smiled at the thought and continued, “T’kown found out quite on accident when I wasn’t dropped my mental shielding on a training flight we had.  Of course, being a Vulcan, she caught it.  The Doctor found out when I had that brain bleed.  As it caught up with me and I collapsed in sickbay I called for help telepathically.  Extreme stress situation.  And you know.”

He took another breath and came to his point, “Long story long, I’ve developed a rather unique way of flying.  One of my childhood friends calls it a zen approach to aggression.  As good a name as any.  I’ve been wondering if it might be helpful for you.”

Sh’iv shrugged, but before she could respond, Orlaith emerged from the crowd. “Sir. Ma’am.” She hesitated briefly but, deciding that this was an informal gathering for the Knights, dropped into the chair next to Marcus without waiting for an invitation.

The bartender barely glanced up as he slid a napkin in front of her. “What can I get you, Ensign?”

Orlaith smiled at the title. Ensign. It felt good. Even though she knew it was just an acting rank and she hadn’t earned a full commission, it still meant something. She was part of something bigger than herself—something important.

“Coke, please.”

“Sure thing.” The bartender turned away to fill the drink.

Sh’iv watched with amusement, and disbelief, like an adult humoring a child’s eccentricity. “Ensign, you do realize this is a bar?”

The bartender returned and set the soda in front of Orlaith. She peeled the paper from the straw, rolling it between her fingers considering her words.

“My dad—my real dad—was as much of a bastard as my mom,” she said lightly, though something dark flickered beneath her tone. “But he was gross about it. Never drunk, not in the sloppy, falling-down way. But he was always buzzed, always had a drink in hand.”

She took a sip of her soda, her smile returning as if shaking off the memory. “When I got to the Denver, I swore I’d be nothing like my parents.” Then, with a wide grin, she added, “Besides, chronologically, I’m only two years old.”

“So far you’ve been adjusting nicely.  You’re doing well so far but, as I found out some time ago, there’s always more to learn and that nobody quite knows everything.  Keep that in mind and I think you may become one of the most dangerous officers in the fleet,” Marcus said with sincere ernestness before taking another sip of his less than half full synthale.

“I don’t know what I want to be, beyond not like my parents.” She shrugged,  “I’m here on the Denver,  and I might as well take advantage of the opportunities provided.”

Ming nodded and said, “I understand that…generally speaking anyhow.  If you need any guidance, insights or feedback in general let me know.  Knowing that it’s been an interesting transition for you so far and I’d be happy to continue to help.”

“You still have much to learn, Ensign… but you have proved you belong here,” Sh’iv added.

Órlaith nodded, unsure what to say. Unsure how to take the words of the flight XO.

Ming smiled a bit lopsidedly before adding, “The XO is right.  You’ve got an amazing amount of raw talent, Ensign.  You do have a lot of finer details to pick up however….You proved that you are a Knight.  The team is damned glad to have you, and I’m not the only one who thinks that when you nail down more training, you’ll have a bright future if you keep going the way you’ve been going with us.  Once your training is done here and at the Academy, let me know, and I will endorse any career path you choose to start with…within reason.”

Marcus slugged down the remainder of his drink when he finished his synthale.  He caught the attention of one of the servers and signaled for another drink.  He then looked at Órlaith, adding, “We’re always learning and don’t know everything either.  I’ve been involved with fighters for a while now and I’ve had flight level command experience for quite a while now for a few years.  This will be the biggest fighter group I have had command of ever….However, based on my experience, I know that I have to delegate certain aspects of Beta and Charlie groups to the command staff out there.  That’s all part of how the fleet works, especially for big operations like this.  I recently got reminded of that actually.  I’m glad of it.”

“I have nothing to compare you to…” She took a long drink of her Coke, “but I couldn’t think of a better mentor.”

Marcus softened a bit, being touched by the sentiment.  He said with a sincere smile, “I make no claims of perfection, but I’ll do my best to live up to expectations.  I’ll be glad to get answers to all your questions, and, as with all the Knights, I’ll have your back come hell or high water until my last breath.”

Órlaith shrugged, “Nobody’s perfect, sir. All we can do is the best we can.”

Ming studied his protege for a couple of heartbeats before giving the girl a lopsided grin, replying, “I’d love to say I learned that lesson at a ripe old age; however, my parents could be taskmasters. Looking back, it helped me become the man I am.  But despite all I have learned, all I have experienced…Mistakes are still possible.”

He shrugged and exchanged looks with the two women he sat with before adding, “I’m going to keep learning whenever I can, improving however I can, and doing that with the best pilots in the Fleet…My Knights!”

Sh’iv raised the glass, “To the Knights!”

Raising her glass, she didn’t say anything, but Órlaith grinned.  She was part of something— something good for the universe. If she were to die in this war, then she would go knowing she had done some good with her life as short as it had been. She had grown past the psychotic parents and risen above their petty need for domination, pain and suffering.

The glasses clanked as tradition on Earth went before Ming took a hefty belt of his synthale.  It wasn’t quite the same as the real thing but given his new responsabilities and knowing things were mission  emminent he wanted to play it smart.  He didn’t need to be even barely telepathic to read Órlaith’s mood — her face said it all.

At that moment another two pip lieutenant in a gold uniform entered the bar and punded the bar loud enough to draw attention followed by a vast drop in chatter.  He pitched his voice in a way that didn’t require too much volume, “Sorry folks.  Orders from on high — All pilots are ordered to return to their quarters or barracks for some sack time.  Tomorrow is a big day and the powers that be don’t want any pilots to be hung over.  That is all.”

The crowd let out a chorus of dissapointment.  Ming was one of them.  He looked at his compainions and said mostly serious but with only a little sarcasm, “Bowing to the needs of the Fleet and Federation” as he stood up.

Órlaith held up her Coke and smirked. “Here I am, trying to be a good little girl, and I still get lumped in with the rest of you degenerates.”

“Ensign,” Sh’iv deadpanned, her expression deadly serious, “We degenerates eat, drink, and be merry, for tomorrow may be our last. Even you, Pinkskins, offered the condemned a final meal before execution.”

Ming stood and projected his voice so the crowd could hear him: “Charlie and Bravo groups! Mission briefing at Meeting Room 7 at 0900 station time. Time for the Federation to open a massive can of whoop-ass!”

That got more cheers than groans which is how he had hoped it’d be. He grinned at Órlaith, saying, “I’ve seen how you operate, Miss Murphy.  I think you’ll fit in quite nicely with the rest of us degenerates.  I expect things to really get out of control when we get home.  I am not aiming for a Dionysian bacchanal, mind you, but I’ve planned for a gathering that everyone should enjoy.  You two are at the top of the invite list, of course, as is fit for my XO and protégé.”

Sh’iv gulped down her drink, set it on the table with a soft clink, and nodded to Ming. “Yeah, that sounds good. Let’s…” She let her voice trail off, and then she forced a grin toward her CO. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world, and I collect on promises.”

“That’s good, XO.  I’d fly through hell and back to fulfill a promise,” Marcus said.

He turned to Órlaith and said, “You’re dismissed for now, Ensign.  Go get some rest as it’s gonna be a rough day tomorrow, and I aim not to lose anyone due to lack of sack time. I gotta talk over a few things with Sh’iv regarding the game plan for tomorrow.   It was nice getting to hang out a bit.  Make sure you’re back in time for the party…That’s an order.”

As he finished, the Knight’s CO gave his protege a genuine smile.  He meant what he said and was glad she was on his side.

“Well, I know when I am not wanted,” she grinned, pushing her glass aside and standing. “I’ll see you in the morning, sir. Ma’am.” Without further fanfare, she disappeared into the surging crowd.

Marcus watched his protege leave for a moment before turning back to his XO.  He said. “The kid’s getting better for sure.  She still has that same firey spirit but seems to be channeling it more appropriately.  She gets a bit more practice at it and I think the Federation will be getting a damned dangerous addition to the fleet….Luckily she’ll be on our side.”

“Considering her upbringing,  she has proven. Me wrong.” Sh’iv replied dryly glancing into the crowd where Órlaith had disappeared into to.

The CO of the Knights, as well as Bravo and Charlie groups for the immediate future, nodded to Sh’iv.  He said, “That said if you’re interested in that bit of information we have two options: We can do it tonight or we can wait until we both get some sleep first and meet before the main briefing tomorrow morning.  I’ll leave the decision to you XO.”

Sh’iv sighed, her antennae twisting. “I’m not exactly in the right headspace to talk shop right now—so I guess that depends on how much mental capacity you need from me.”

“Tell ya what….Likely better to do this after a bit of sack time.  The pre-flight debriefing is at 9AM station time  tomorrow morning.  Meet me at my quarters at 0800 and we can talk then.  That still gives you 10 hours to wind down and get some sleep.  The CO of this fighter detachment and I don’t want anyone to get killed tomorrow because they didn’t get some sleep.  Copy that XO,” Ming asked with his voice never once deviating from friendly.

Sh’iv patted Ming on the shoulder,  “In case I don’t get a chance to say this: It’s been an honor serving with you.”

Without waiting for a response the Andorian woman turned and walked out of the bar disappearing in much the same way as Órlaith had leaving Ming alone despite being surrounded by boisterous patrons.