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“Nah, mom worked on one of her sister ships. Apparently the Hannibal electric units were a pain.” You clarified with a smile and a small shake of your head. Your mom was a shift manager at one of Tribute’s orbital shipyards, doing odd jobs to take the strain off larger yards around Reach and elsewhere in the inner colonies. Her yard’s most recent project had been refitting some Able class destroyers with more modern systems, and almost every day she’d come home and complain about a new problem. Be it with the ships, management, or the quartermaster’s office.
You’d gotten the worst of it though, as the usual post-work venting morphed with her existing concern for your safety aboard UNSC vessels. As it turned out, working in a career that constantly exposed her to beaten up and broken vessels didn’t do much to alleviate her concerns about your career choice.
“Huh, that’s convenient. How’s she doing by the way?” Dyad asked, leaning back in her seat
“Practically blew a gasket when she found out I was home on medical leave. Blew another one when I told her that how I got it was classified.” Mom had a very bad case of helicopter parenting when you were younger. And one of the few things that really set her off was when one of her kids got hurt. Given your family’s circumstances, you absolutely understood her concern.
“You didn’t try the cover story?” Diana asked as her avatar popped into being in the tank next to you, part of her side missing as your elbow blocked the projector.
“Aw, come on. You can’t lie to your family.” You replied as you stood up straight, clearing the full tank for Diana, even as she fixed you with a questioning gaze.
“Or you’re just bad at lying.” Dyad suggested as she lent back into the captain’s chair, a smug grin on her face telling you that she apparently didn’t have that issue. Which wasn’t surprising, the simple fact that her parents were back on Earth meant that she didn’t have to say it to their face.
“I’m not bad at lying. I’ve got a mean poker face.” You wheeled onto your XO, fixing her with your most disappointed expression. Unfortunately, this just seemed to embolden her.
“Wanna bet?” Dyad asked, throwing the proverbial gauntlet for a poker game.
Well shit. If she’d suggested this elsewhere, you would have probably been able to worm your way out of it. Unfortunately, you were on the bridge, and you could feel dozens of pairs of eyes on you. As crew members watched how you’d react to the friendly challenge.
>“Bet.”
>“For shame, lieutenant commander. Regulations forbid gambling aboard UNSC vessels!”
>Other (write-in)
