Alien bars are a lot like bars on Earth. Some are pounding, pulsing music and lights, some are dark taverns with darker beer. Locals and intergalactic travellers alike would find them, hoping to drown their sorrows in the bottom of a whiskey glass, forget their pain in a stranger's arms, throw away cares with cards and dancing and shots all around. This one was large and long and semi-dark, one of the low-key local haunts, but they didn't mind when Rangers in the area stopped by for a drink or two on their day off – it usually made for excitement of one kind or another.

Up leaned against the bar, wooden and smelling of a hundred days of spilt alcohol, sipping at a purple Yularian scotch. He'd offered the evening's shore leave in an effort to help his crew forget that they'd just spent a rough couple of weeks battling stray robot fighters in the Beta sector, and several dozen of his Rangers had taken him up on it. Everyone was growing tense as the robot-human conflicts had begun to escalate, and the G.L.E.E. couldn't afford to lose soldiers to burnout now. He figured a night off would do his Rangers good.

It seemed to be working – to his right a few young ensigns were trying their luck with the local ladies, and a rowdy game of cards was taking place in the corner. But most of the bar's blurry attention was focused on the makeshift stage set up in the corner of the room. It was karaoke night.

Not long after she joined the team, the Cazadora crew had discovered that if you gave Lieutenant Taz enough tequila and a microphone, she would sing anything – loudly and lustily – with anyone, anywhere, anytime. The crew took advantage of this whenever possible, as there wasn't much that was funnier than watching Taz belt out "Paradise by the Dashboard Light" with whichever hapless partner she'd managed to recruit that night. Up had to admit she was actually pretty good, although you'd never try to tell her that sober.

Taz finished her song to loud catcalls and kicked over the microphone stand. Ignoring the cries for an encore, she blew her audience a kiss and marched over to where Up was standing.

"You're a regular Aretha," he said. He was glad to see her enjoying herself. She'd been in a mood all day, bench-pressing impossible numbers of reps in the gym and refusing to come to the mess hall to eat. Maybe it was just the constant threat of robot invasion that was bothering her.

She stuck her tongue out at him and turned to the bartender. "Un tequila. And non of your local shit, por favor."

"Having a good time, are you?"Up said dryly.

"Excelente," she said, taking the shot glass from the bartender and knocking it back, disregarding the offered lemon and salt. "While you just stand here looking like your data dog just died."

"Someone has to keep an eye on all you kids," he said. It was true. If anything out of the ordinary happened here tonight, as the ship's commanding officer, he'd be the one to answer for it. The G.L.E.E. certainly didn't need any more trouble these days.

"Okay, padre," she said with far too much emphasis, slamming the glass back onto the bar. "But it wouldn't kill you to have a little fun once in a while. I haven't seen you smile in months."

She left, and he stared after her. Things had been tough lately as the Robots had begun renewed attacks on human colonies – and he had plenty to worry about keeping the Cazadora intact and in fighting shape. But had he really forgotten how to smile?

He watched her join the card game, clink glasses, and laugh at something Pedro said. The lovesick idiot still gave her the same moony eyes he always had. Up turned his back and ordered a refill from the bartender.

The night grew louder as it grew later, and the liquor was flowing freely. Some soldiers started arm wrestling in the corner, and the karaoke warbling grew so off-key that Up found himself wishing that Taz would get on stage again just to put everyone out of their misery. He circled the room, sharing toasts and jabs with various crew members, trying to convince himself that he was having fun, but his heart wasn't in it. Having made the obligatory rounds and with nothing else to do, Up found himself at the bar again. Suddenly Taz was at his elbow, rather tipsier than before.

"Uno más, camarero, y muévete! Tengo sed!" she barked, swaying a little, and though the bartender clearly didn't understand what she'd said, he poured another tequila and offered it hopefully.

"Are you sure you need that?" said Up. She was leaning rather heavily on the bar for support.

Her eyes flashed. "You know, Up," she said, coming closer and stabbing at his chest with her finger. "I'm not a little girl anymore."

"I know that," he said warily. Experience had taught the Cazadora crew that Taz on tequila could go one of two ways: extremely dangerous or extremely flirty. He wasn't sure yet which he was dealing with tonight.

"I'm all grown up now," she said, reaching for her drink. As she did, someone behind her tripped, knocking her into Up. Quickly he wrapped his arms around her, more to prevent her from attacking anyone than anything else. She writhed around to yell at the perpetrator.

"Mira por donde vas, te saco de las entrañas!"

Up chuckled, and she turned to look up at him. Suddenly the clinking glasses and chortles of laughter around him faded and he was transported to a stone balcony and a warm night on Europa, remembering the subtle scent of her, the softness of her lips, reliving the rightness of his hands at the small of her back. Her eyes softened just a little bit, and he wondered if maybe – just maybe – she was thinking of the same thing.

They didn't talk about it. They had never talked about it, what had happened between Mr. and Mrs. von Tuppington on that balcony.

Now Taz pressed her palm against his chest, a gentle, questioning touch. He wondered if she could feel how fast his heart was beating. She traced the G.L.E.E. insignia on his casual uniform, then each button in turn, her fingers exploring their way down his shirt. So this was definitely flirty Tequila Taz.

"Taz," he said, though he wanted nothing more than for her to continue. "Don't." Not tonight. Not here. Not like this.

She stiffened in his arms, and for a moment, hurt flashed in her eyes. It was quickly replaced by anger. He let her go and she picked up her forgotten drink.

"Sorry, Commander," she said. "My mistake." She downed the liquor and threw the shot glass on the floor where it shattered, causing a few patrons nearby to jump. Giving him a sloppy salute she turned, disappearing into the thickening crowd. Up rubbed his face in his hands, suddenly wishing he was back on the Cazadora, watching the Karate Kid, maybe taking a bubble bath. Anywhere but here.

It wasn't very long before there came a particularly loud smashing sound and a series of shouts from across the bar. He could see a number of Ranger uniforms among the gathering crowd, so Up approached, a sinking feeling in his stomach.

"Fight, fight, fight, fight!"

"Dead goddammit," said Up, coming up beside Pedro as Taz sent her larger, alien opponent flying into a card table. Glass and game pieces flew everywhere. "Why is Taz brawling with one of the locals?"

"It's Taz," Pedro shrugged, though admiration shone stupidly in his eyes. "He probably just looked at her the wrong way."

Two of the alien's buddies approached her, cracking knuckles. She slipped beneath their reach and kicked at their legs, sending them sprawling to the floor. She wasn't as quick to get up as usual, and staggered a little as she rose.

The locals were starting to look angry. Up stepped into the middle of the circle.

"LIEUTENANT!" he roared. Taz looked startled, and her eyes attempted to focus on him.

"That is enough," he said harshly. "We are guests on this planet. You are drunk, and acting irresponsibly, and you are an embarrassment to this team. Get yourself back to the ship before you cause any more trouble."

Taz, for a moment, looked abashed, but then she reached out and swept her arm across an array of empty bottles on the nearest table, sending them all shattering to the floor at his feet. A challenge.

Anger rose inside him as the glass settled, but he kept his voice steady. "You're confined to quarters until further notice, Lieutenant. I'll see you on the Cazadora."

She stared at him for a moment, as if not believing what he'd said. Then she turned and stalked away, smashing a few more bottles for good measure.

"Make sure she makes it there in one piece," Up spat at Pedro, who nodded, wide-eyed, and ran after her.

Up rubbed his temples again as he turned to face the looming aliens behind him.

-oOo-

Her quarters were spinning. She had only moved into them recently, after being promoted to a full Lieutenant, but she was fairly sure that they weren't supposed to be doing that. She had finally managed to find her bed, after Pedro had helped her to the bathroom just in time to puke up most of what she'd consumed. She'd caught a glance of herself in the mirror and she was a mess, blood crusting on her eyebrow, her short hair sticking up everywhere, spilled alcohol staining her shirt blue and yellow. She'd stripped down to her bra and underwear, her uniform ruined, before remembering that Pedro was there and kicking him out before he got too much of an eyeful. She thought about returning to the bathroom to clean herself up, but instead crawled under the thin military blanket and curled up, wanting to die. Her head was reeling and her stomach doing the salsa. She had never felt this awful in her life. How many drinks had she had, anyway?

More than she'd needed, after Up – she curled herself tighter in embarrassment. She'd fairly thrown herself at him, and he'd been understandably disgusted with her culo borracho. What had she been thinking? Oh, that maybe because of the way he'd kissed Mrs. von Tuppington on Europa he'd want to do the same with her? When the truth was that really he still thought of her as a kid, even after all these years. An embarrassment to the team. To him.

If she hadn't before, she'd proved it tonight with her behaviour, picking fights and smashing glasses. Taz felt ill again as she saw his angry face in the dim light of the bar. Up never got angry with her.

The room was quiet. Until her latest promotion had granted her these quarters, Taz had never had so much space to herself. She'd bunked with fellow junior-grade lieutenants, ensigns, cadets, and before that, lived in the same room as her mama in her aunt's house – but no, she wouldn't think of her mama tonight. Not after spending the whole night trying to drink her away.

Confined to quarters. She'd literally never been so alone.

A knock.

Taz lifted her head, willing her vision to stop swimming.

"Taz? It's me."

She was fairly sure her heart stopped at his voice.

"Come in," she said, eventually.

Up came in tentatively, looking around until he saw her in the dimmed night lighting, wrapped up defensively in her bed. He crossed his arms and surveyed her.

"You look like shit," he said. The anger had left his voice. "Didn't Pedro help you get home?"

"I chased him out," she said.

"Well, you need to get cleaned up," he said. "Come on."

Slowly, excruciatingly, she unraveled herself and crawled out of the blankets. Up raised his eyebrows and then averted his gaze when he saw what she was- or wasn't – wearing. She wrapped a blanket around herself, her shame growing, and shakily walked to the bathroom. It was only when she put her hands into the tap water to wash her face that she saw the blood on them. "Mierda."

"What is it?" Up asked, peering around the corner. "Jesus, Taz, your hands are full of glass."

That would be from the bottles she'd smashed while proving her childishness with a full-out tantrum. "I'm sorry, Up," she whispered, and could feel tears pricking at her eyes. She'd never cried in front of him, never.

That was it - she was never going to drink again.

His face softened slightly. "Just – don't touch anything," he said, dampening a washcloth. "Let me do this."

She sat on the toilet cover and managed to hold the tears in while he washed the blood from her face and arms with the washcloth and rummaged in the medicine cabinet until he found a pair of tweezers. It was a long and painful process as he carefully slid each tiny shard of glass from her palms. Without meaning to, every now and then she'd let out a small gasp, and he would look up in concern. He held her hand gently with his own as he worked, and she watched him, her liquor-addled brain thinking about how he'd changed in the years she'd known him, new scars he'd added, fresh worry in his face. She watched his brows crease, and her gaze dropped to his lips, and she wanted to do the same thing she'd wanted since Europa – to kiss him again, to see happiness there on his face once more. He's your commanding officer, he's out of bounds, he's your partner, he's your best friend, he's Up, she repeated to herself. It had become her mantra these last few months.

Her mama would have been pleased to see her finally losing it over a man. Taz closed her eyes against the images that threatened to come back, the ones she held at bay with fighting, tequila shots, too many reps at the gym. They wouldn't stay away this time.

-oOo-

Up worked as cautiously as he could, but there was a lot of glass. He could feel Taz watching him, her eyes a little glassy, the blanket wrapped around her. She looked miserable.

He finally got up the nerve to ask. "What's going on, Taz? I've never seen you act like this before."

She didn't say anything for a while, and then the words came out of her as if by accident. "It's my birthday tomorrow."

Up stopped, and frowned. Was it? Taz didn't usually pay much mind to birthdays. "Happy – birthday?" he said, confused as to what this had to do with anything.

"I'll be twenty-five," she told the bathtub beside him. "Ten years ago-"

And then he understood. It had been her birthday the day her family and village had been destroyed by robots, the day he'd found her hanging upside-down, a human pinata at her own quinceañera. "I didn't realize it still-"

"Bothered me?" she said bitterly. "Watching everyone I cared about be blasted and ripped into pieces while I was powerless to stop it? Why should that still bother me?"

"Taz, I didn't mean it like that," he said. He pulled the last shard of glass from her palm. "There."

She didn't pull her hand away. He looked at her, dark eyes and all-over-the-place hair, a fresh cut on her eyebrow, the curve of her shoulder disappearing into the blanket that had slipped down her arm. She looked more vulnerable now than she had in a long time. Sometimes he forgot how young she had been when she first joined the Academy. He suddenly felt overwhelmed by an intense desire to take her in his arms again, remind her that she wasn't alone. She had him. She would always have him.

His communicator beeped.

"Commander Up?"

He had to let go of her hand to raise the communicator to his mouth.

"Up here."

"Urgent message from Rear Admiral Tripp, sir."

Up and Taz raised their eyebrows at each other. "Patch him through," he said, knowing that Taz would keep her presence quiet.

"Tripp?"

"Up," Tripp's voice came through, and his breathing was ragged. "It's the Admiral – he's dead."

"Dead?" he repeated, as Taz's eyes widened to match his own.

"Assassinated," Tripp said, sounding like he had aged twenty years since Up had last spoken to him. "The robots have control of G.L.E.E. headquarters. They've done it. They've taken over."