“It’s a piece of junk!” Kara laughed until her sides started to hurt and her eyes started to water. “You sure they don’t want to exile you too?” She was slapping her knees now. “Because there is no way we're making it back in that!”

Rorik didn’t say anything, he just stared completely dumbfounded at the hunk of junk that someone had dared to classify as a starship.

But despite how incredibly amusing she found it, she didn’t blame him. The shoddy excuse for a light-cruiser assaulting their eyesight was a rickety mess. It was precariously sat atop four massive landing gear that looked like they could give at any moment. From their view of the worn, blue and gray starboard exterior, the name Gizotso read in barely visible, faded gray letters. The many, many scars of time that raced along its durtanium surface made it genuinely appear ancient, as if it had been made long before humanity had even left the Milky Way. As if someone had run it through a trash compactor and then tried to rebuild it based on memory, while they were drunk. And…unfortunately for the both of them, it would be their home during their latest venture into space.

She leaned onto his shoulder for support, partially due to the debilitating laughter, and partially due to the fact that she was still decently intoxicated. “This is great, thanks for inviting me. I haven’t laughed this hard in a long while.”

His dispirited eyes were still firmly locked on the ship. “But, maybe…it’s a clerical error or maybe they want to start a…museum or something and they parked it in the wrong spot?”

“Yeah…and the Earth was flat too.”

He eyed her shrewdly and sighed. “Well, let’s see what we're working with, I guess.”

The hangar was abuzz with frenetic, organized chaos. Loading crews were busily scrambling left and right, rushing to fill the holds with previsionings. Pallets of cloned-human meat rations, toiletries, weapons, ammunition, and everything else they’d need on their journey, however long it was.

Rorik quickly busied himself inquiring about the status of the loading process with the crew-chief, but she didn’t hear much of what was said, she didn’t care about the equipment. She was too busy carefully studying the crew as they embarked. If there was one thing commanding for this long had taught her, it was that the most important assets for mission success were mostly the people, and rarely the guns and bullets. She’d need to make a point of testing the quality of the crew they’d been assigned as the mission went on, to know their capabilities better than they did…but if the vessel was any indication, she had her work cut out for her.

She saw a few familiar faces in the queue to board, faces like Dr. Maiyan. A relatively young, but apparently brilliant scientist who’d impressed the Unified eggheads with her work on the stims in recent years. Stims that further increased a wolf’s cognitive abilities when they changed. Kara had surprisingly enjoyed reading a few of her papers when her interest was piqued, but the bulk of the information was lost on her. Trailing behind her was Kel, a broad shouldered and dark-toned man who apparently moonlighted as a bounty hunter. His crew of self-proclaimed commandos followed him everywhere like lost puppies. She’d heard they were half-good, but then she’d be the judge of that. Then there was Lonny, a lanky enlisted man who she thought to be relatively effective as a team leader. His only obvious flaw was that he was always chewing and popping on a piece of gum, day and night. If she had to go months and months, enclosed in a starship hearing it pop over and over, she was liable to kill the bastard.

“Kara?” Rorik asked, pulling her forward and ripping her from her thoughts.

“What?” She asked impatiently.

“I said, you might have to watch your back a little.”

“From what exactly?”

“There's a full bar lieutenant onboard who’s spot you’re taking, Lieutenant Del’s the name and I’m sure she’s a little more than pissed about it.”

“Oh, hush, I eat lieutenants for breakfast...or sometimes lunch, with a fresh Caesar salad and some lemonade and—.”

“I’m serious,” He said as they walked up the personnel ramp to the outer airlock. “Cassandra can be a pretty intense person at times and she’s more than likely pissed off at me. And I’m sure if she can, she’s going to make your life as inconvenient as possible. Especially if she finds out about your special circumstances with Rikor’s mandate.”

Kara smiled, hearing and appreciating the warning, but unable to help herself. “Cassandra huh? First name basis and personal insight into her personality? Hmm, I wonder what other insights about her you might have, Captain?”

Rorik stopped to sign a few holo-pads. “I haven't fucked her yet if that’s what you’re implying.”

“No, follow-through? Tsk tsk. Happens to us all some times, well not to me, because that’d be pathetic, but—.”

He chuckled. “I didn’t even get the chance because I was running around here like an idiot looking for you.”

She had to admit that she actually found the sentiment kind of sweet, but damn if she’d ever let him know that. “Excuses are like assholes...sir.”

The crew-chief took them on an impromptu tour of the ship; crew quarters, engines, the celestial drive, and so on. And like the exterior, the interior of the ship left much to be desired. The decrepit hallways were low and cramped, with a ridiculous number of jagged pieces of metal sticking out of the floor in odd places. The electrical system was so sporadic in some sections that some doors would allow you to enter, but not to exit. It also seemed like every five minutes or so, a junction box loudly overloaded for no good reason. And to further compound their misery, an incredibly foul odor emanated from the air-controller system and the filth stuck to her hair and clothes like smoke.

It was almost enough to make her gag.

The chief claimed that the smell would filter out after a while, but she wasn’t so certain, something had definitely died in there. Throughout the entirety of the tour, the only thing she’d seen not malfunctioning were the bulkheads, and even then they were perhaps a bit too thin for her tastes.

She followed along silently, taking mental notes and falling deeper and deeper into her own thoughts. It felt strange doing things that she would have delegated to someone else just the day before yesterday, but it was made slightly easier doing them alongside James. He looked exactly the same as he had when she’d met him, but she could see his measure as a leader more clearly then she had in all these years. The kid had come a long way from the runt she’d run into on Zamood and it felt good to see him in charge and sure of his decisions. Kara almost didn’t mind the fact that their roles had effectively been reversed, almost.

She already knew she’d be somewhat selective on the orders she would allow him to give her; she’d been in charge too long to just completely flip the switch like that. Kara also knew that he was aware of that as well, after all, he knew her better than anybody. So, as long as he maintained an awareness of how to interact with her as her superior, she would do her very best to help him. Well, she’d help him either way, but she’d kick him in the chest if and when he let those bars go to his head.

Eventually the chief led Rorik to the bridge, while she went off to study the vessel’s specifications more aptly in the nearby command office. A holographic display built into the floor at the center of the room flickered to life at her approach. And after fighting the very stubborn user interface for way too long, she finally got the emitter to engage fully. In a flash of bright white light, a large, shimmering juxtaposition of the ship filled the room and her fingers gently glided across the virtual spectacle.

An orange pop-up text box full of technical information appeared at waist level. “The Gizotso," she murmured absently to herself, "Four EE-V class sub-light engines with quad blah blah blahs and a J-Class celestial drive generator nestled at the rear,” Her eyes darted across the hologram to locate what she was reading off. “Manned gun-wells on the aft, port, and starboard sides. Six 47-delta autocannons mounted on the front, two on the rear. Not bad actually, hmm…neutrino torpedo launchers, six each at the front and rear. Could be worse, I guess.”

The weapons certainly were the most impressive part of the vessel so far, but they were nothing to write home about. If they ran afoul a ship of the same class with a similar compliment, they’d probably lose because the rest of their ship was made of fucking paperclips. And the likelihood of them being outright attacked predominantly depended on where in the frackin galaxy they were even going. If they were going Coreward the chances of being attacked unprovoked went down astronomically. But if they went further into the Fringe then where they were right now, their chances of running into rival mercenary groups and pirates would skyrocket, probably as soon as they dipped a toe out of the system.

“Lieutenant Kara.”

She turned to face the speaker, a tall and tan-skinned woman with her hair pulled back in a loose ponytail, who stood posed in the doorway. A bright lieutenant’s bar shone on her collar and her posture was so perfect that it made her own back ache. Kara’d been so engrossed in thought that she hadn’t heard her walk in. The woman, with her jaw tensed, was undoubtedly this Lieutenant Del that Rorik had mentioned earlier. Coldly, she looked Kara up and down curiously, as if she was looking for something in her that she didn’t quite expect to find.

“Vice Lieutenant Kara,” She said again, this time with a bit more agitation and distaste. “I’m at a loss for words really.”

Kara returned her gaze steely. “Good, that way you can save your frackin breath. The Captain already told me about the situation and as long as we both do our jobs—.”

“I didn’t mean to be rude, truly, I didn’t,” Del walked further into the room until she was only a few feet away. “I’m just having trouble understanding.”

Had she been actually telling the truth, she would’ve happily explained the circumstances of the situation to her, but Del's heartbeat contradicted what her mouth had claimed.

Kara sniffed the air inquisitively and smiled smugly. “Understanding how to use mouthwash? I can tell. Maybe later I can give a class on its proper application.”

Del laughed dryly. “I’ve been on shift all day, actually doing my job. But you, the great Kara Daffern…you can be brought back in disgrace for not doing your job, get busted down four ranks, and then for some reason be approved over me, hours after arriving? That’s what I’m having trouble understanding.”

Despite not caring for what Del was saying and especially how she was saying it, Kara fully understood her frustration. A lot of them worked really hard, if not just for the money, but because they actually gave a damn about this little organization they’d all built together. Built over centuries of blood, sweat, and tears. So for someone on the outside like Del, not knowing the bucket of sheer bureaucratic bullshit that Masa had dumped on her, Kara looked like the queen of assholes…but that wouldn’t excuse her attitude.

“You’re pretty, tall, and highly decorated, you’ve got it all don’t you?” Del continued, her voice now laced with rage.

Kara sighed and shut down the hologram before turning back to her, suddenly feeling exhausted. “I’m also a pretty damn good salsa dancer.”

Del scoffed harshly.

“Look, I get it. I’d be pissed off too. But…I won’t be this rank forever,” Her own anger began to well up inside of her as she pressed her forehead against Del’s. “So I’d think twice about making an enemy out of me.”

Rorik suddenly strode into the room, completely consumed with his holo-pad until he finally stopped and noticed the lit dynamite about to ignite in front of him. “Hey…is everything alright?”

“Just fine, thanks,” Kara answered automatically. “The lieutenant here was just helping me with the emitter, it’s a pain in the ass like everything else on this boat.”

Rorik rubbed worriedly at his head. “Gotcha, um, hey Cassandra, about earlier, sorry, I should have called you. But something important came up and then with the rush for this new mission..”

“It’s fine James,” Del snapped coldly as she looked between them. “I can see what came up.”

“Cassandra,” Rorik started, but the Lieutenant hurriedly walked past him and back out the door.

Exhaling he looked blankly back at Kara.

“For the record, I didn’t start it.”

“Didn’t even cross my mind. But nevermind that, you should go get your personal effects, we’ll be taking off soon. Oh…and while you’re at it, maybe brush your teeth,” He smiled faintly, but it was obvious that he was exhausted from the rush of the past few hours. “I could smell the booze on your breath before I walked down the hall.”

 

Kara’d stowed her gear in her surprisingly spacious quarters and made it back to the bridge with mere minutes to spare. The familiar pre-mission tingles coursed through her body, heightened her senses and focused her mind. The uncertainty of the mission ahead, the idea of the unknown fueled her budding anticipation. She just held out hope that it was a combat mission. There was a certain peace in the simplicity of “go here, kill that, and come back,” that she found incredibly comforting. And after her interaction with Del, she’d realized that..

It'd been far too long since she'd killed anything.

Sitting herself down at the navigation console, she took a moment to refamiliarize herself with the controls, it’d been a while. But, luckily for her, she had served in damn near every role that was present on the typical starship’s bridge. Therefore the diverse complexities of calculating and predicting positive and negative celestial wave projections was nearly as easy as multiplication for her.

“All systems are primed, and all clearances are...cleared Captain. Orbital Dock 23 is waiting for us.” The helmsman said.

“Good, then let's get out of the atmosphere before gravity decides to tear this bucket apart on us.”

The engines roared to life, vibrating through the deck-plating as the Gizotso gradually began its ascent. Through the main viewscreen camera, she watched as they slowly floated through the hangar doors and into the open air. The icy gusts of Azrhar's winds coiled around the ship like an army of chalky vipers, strangling the faded hull in a deadly embrace. The metal groaned slightly as the cold encircled it, and the temperature of the bridge dropped nearly instantly. She could see her breath as the swirling snowflakes danced in the glow of the external hangar lights. The contrasting colors created a mesmerizing red light show that surrounded the ship and the shimmering blue light of the retracting energy shield only added to the beautiful spectacle.

A massive mountain of azure ice perfectly surrounded the gigantic, rounded citadel, and its supporting buildings that dotted the immediate landscape. Each of them seamlessly integrated with the natural contours of the rigid, icy constructs; so much so that an approaching helmsman wouldn’t be able to see it with the naked eye until they were within a few thousand feet. An army of turrets, missile platforms, and energy weapons of varying size sat atop, perpendicular, and adjacent to all the man-made structures. The placement of the weapons was an incredibly constructed security threshold capable of shredding any unwanted vessel, down to a piece of scrap and from as far away as the stratosphere.

The endless, frozen ocean of Azrhar’s barren surface stretched in all directions. Reflecting the low light of Azrhar's distant red sun off the very curvature of the planet’s horizon. With each passing moment, the Gizotso moved further and further from the citadel, until eventually they were free from gravity’s grip. leaving the cold of Azrhar behind yet again. And Kara exhaled a breath she didn’t realize she was holding.

 

Once they’d moored at the orbital dock, the external repair teams went about checking and further reinforcing any portions of the hull that they deemed unworthy for lengthy space travel. Eventually, they’d estimated a twenty-four wait, at minimum. So, after Rorik and her squared away the crew in all of the essential sections, he’d dismissed most of them, including all of the bridge staff for the night. To rest for the journey they’d undertake tomorrow.

After finishing the calibrations of the last of his station's control panels, Rorik rubbed at his nose vigorously and then plopped down in his captain’s chair. The fixtures of the room had been turned down to their lowest settings and it was as if they weren’t even on at all. The orbital dock's feeble glow provided the only illumination. Revealing the battle-worn nature of the command bridge’s predominantly metallic surfaces, mostly of dark gray and rustic hues.

The viewscreen, a collection of visual peripherals connected to a complex system of cameras, sat at the front of the bridge. The panoramic illusion they generated gave them a two-hundred and twenty degree view of the front of the vessel, and any of the screens could be focused on any side of the ship at the click of a button.

Five of the six stations sat slightly ahead of the captain’s chair. The communications station sat at the front left and the helmsman's to the right of it across the wide walkway. While the navigation console was behind the helm on the right side and sat across the weapons station on the left. The dedicated sensors and shield modulation station to the left of that.

The captain's chair was positioned rearward at the heart of the room, its worn upholstery was riddled with different adjustable monitors which relayed all of the stations’ information. Along with a few systems not found on the bridge. The sixth station belonged to the data analysis officer, and was tucked away behind the captain. Their main job was managing any potential scientific inquiries, accessing and managing the Unified database, and any number of analytical or information related duties…and was also where Lieutenant Del would sit.

“It’s going to be a long trip isn’t it?” Rorik finally said.

“I wouldn't know.” She said evenly, trying to hold back a yawn.

“Orders, Kara, orders. As soon as we get out of range of Azrhar’s network, I’m going to tell the entire crew.”

A combination of sleepiness and the last of the booze in her system beckoned her to plop down in the chair at the station closest to his. “Orders? Since when have you cared so much about orders?”

“If this was a simple kill-job I wouldn’t. I’d be half-drunk playing pool in the rec room right now, thinking about how best to spend my next check. But this mission...this one deserves a degree more seriousness than usual.”

“I’m almost worried. If it’s so serious, why did they pull this relic from a junkyard? I’m sure there were a number of decently good, unassigned ships they could have given us. I’d be pissed off right now if I was you.”

Rorik had rubbed a red line into his nose and swept his blonde hair from his eyes. “I’m sure they did it to keep up appearances, our mission is confidential. Giving a captain a ship is already strange, giving a captain a good ship would be outrageous and draw every eye and ear on the planet.”

Kara leaned back comfortably and cracked her neck. She’d changed her mind, this chair was the most impressive thing on this ship. “Yeah, that makes sense. I guess to outside eyes, it just looks like Rikor is either grooming you for command or like you have some sort of dirt on him.”

“Either of those assumptions are preferred to the truth,” Rorik looked absently at the ceiling. “Feels weird…I’ve led whole companies into battle before, countless battles. But it's different this time, almost like there’s a…some sort of—.”

“Weight on your shoulders? Sometimes throughout the day it moves around and it feels like it’s standing on your chest? Making it hard to breathe?”

“Guess I forgot who I was talking to.” He chuckled.

“Yeah, it feels like that when there’s a lot on the line. That’s why it’s good to have people with you that give you the least amount of headaches. Everyone will eventually, but it’s about keeping that number as low as possible.”

“Well, for any future headaches you might have planned, please accept my most humble apologies for the many, many, I’ve given you over the years.”

“I accept. It won’t save you, but I accept.” Kara said as she looked him over more closely, before breaking out into a hushed giggle the more she looked. The way he was sitting, so ridiculously still and slumped down by the armrests, he looked like a giant, goofy kid playing in his father’s chair.

“What?”

“Nothing, you just look so cute sitting there.”

A nonchalant chuckle and an airy wave was his only reply and he reached around under his chair to grab two small glasses and a bottle of something fruity-looking.

“What’s that for?”

“This, is the last drink you’re going to have while on board.”

Kara quickly sat up. “Oh, come on, my drinking isn't even that bad.”

He eyed her knowingly and she gradually sank back in defeat. Then he poured a healthy amount of what looked and smelt like zorba ale into either glass. It had been her favorite for a good number of years and it was either a very happy coincidence or he’d obviously put some thought into this.

“Not saying it always goes bad, actually it’s pretty fun most of the time. But your drinking is a recipe for disaster considering our circumstances. This is for both of our own goods. I may not be your father like you said,” He handed her the glass, smiling smugly. “And I know I’ll have to pick my battles, but I am your ranking officer.”

Kara swirled the purple fluid around for a second and then downed it with one swig. Rorik was quick to follow.

“Yes, sir,” She said sarcastically while rendering a salute. “It’s definitely going to be a longer journey now.”

Mere minutes passed and already they were at the bottom of the very large bottle. Where before their voices had been low and weighed down by the burdens of their day, now they were giggling and laughing like school children, loudly reminiscing about tales and times long past.

“You bitch!” Rorik laughed, almost spilling what was left of his drink as he grabbed at his side. “I was out of power for a week, sweating my balls off in the desert with no AC!”

She was laughing so hard it came out as a hoarse gasp and she had spilled a little of her drink. “Oh, fuck, I’ve never told anyone that, I promise it was an accident!”

“Tell that to all the sweat drenched sheets I had to wash,” He took a swig. “And how can it be an accident if it was part of a dare?”

Kara finished hers and wiped at her eyes. “Accepting the dare was intentional, falling face first onto the generator was the accident part. My hair was so frizzy for like a day or two that I had to slick it down so no one would notice.”

“Had me fooled, I thought you were going through a quick phase or something. Just trying something new.”

She tousled her short dark hair and pulled some of the strands to their full length, stretching them an inch or so beyond her chin. “Nah, I had and still have given up on it, too much work for nothing.”

“Me too.” He said, pulling at his own hair, which was only a little shorter than hers.

“Yeah, but at least yours is softer.” She tried to reach over to grab a few locks, but stumbled forward and accidentally headbutted him.

Zorba ale was way stronger than she remembered.

“Ow, what the fuck?” Rorik chuckled as he steadied her to keep her from falling over and rubbed at his head.

“Big baby, it was just a little love tap.”

For the briefest of seconds they held a stare and she saw a warm twinkle shine in his amber eyes, and for a moment he looked just like…Soren.…but that was probably just the ale playing tricks on her. The quiet that had suddenly fallen over the room had for some reason reminded her of her own weariness and she yawned as she stretched out. Rising to her full height she gently brushed a hand over his annoyingly soft hair. “Well, maybe, you should get some sleep, kid. The man in charge needs his rest. I’ll watch the bridge.” She said softly.

“But don’t you think I should be—.”

“James,” She playfully balled a wad of his hair in a fist and looked him in the eyes. “Pick your battles, remember?”