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“They’re overcompensating,” Aalto grouses, a scowl on her face. “They don’t wanna look like the limp dicks they are after sending us out with so little protection.”
Elishani coughs, frowning. “I wouldn’t put it that crudely, but not wholly inaccurate. If this is how clogged the bay is going to be, then I fear for our reception at the Docks.”
Holt shudders. “Christ, that ain’t gonna be pretty. We’ve already got so much crap to unload without attractin’ a crowd.”
“Hopefully one without a high school band,” interjects Kwan. “Once was more than enough for me.”
The captain brings the stateroom to order, rapping his knuckles sharply on the table. “Alright, settle down, everyone. There’s some announcements to dispense with before we dock.”
He pauses, looking each and everyone of you in the eye. “As of this moment, all of you have been given two weeks of paid leave. Officers and enlisted alike.”
A dull murmur breaks out among the assembled. More good than bad, and the latter is few and far between. The last three days had run everyone ragged. Even as morale hadn’t dropped, the respite would be sorely welcome. After the battle, there hadn’t been any time to decompress.
Elishani continues, “A temporary crew has been contracted to repair and maintain the <span class="mu-i">Calypso</span> in your absence. Take the time to mourn your friends, and honor their memories as best you see fit. In the coming days, some of you may be visited by our friends in intelligence, and I ask that you comply to the fullest extent.
“We did nothing wrong,” he insists firmly, a steel edge entering his voice, “I want all of you to know that. The truth is our best defense against those penny-pinchers and armchair commodores. Give them enough for them to hang themselves upon their failure to adequately prepare us for this sort of encounter.”
And on that grim, yet optimistic note, you are dismissed. As people file out, Elishani makes the same announcement over the radio to the rank-and-file of the ship…
>>Checking for points…
>You have NOT accumulated enough Aalto Points.
Aalto sighs, stretching languidly in her seat. “Well, it isn’t like I’m going anywhere. Tell the funny men they can debrief me next, skipper. Not like I’ve got anywhere to be, and I’d rather get that shit out of the way.”
Geary sighs. “I’m halfway tempted to restart the swear jar, Tabitha.”
“You’d need more than one, or a reactor-sized jar. Because there wouldn’t be one big enough for the engineering department alone.”
“It would have to be for here only,” muses Elishani, “I don’t nearly mind vulgarity among the mess or decks, but in this stateroom? Absolutely not.”
The comms officer scowls. “That's discrimination!”
“No, it’s called keeping good manners,” counters Kwan.
“Stuff it, you overgrown two-by-four!”
(cont.)
