One week later. 12:16 PM. Pust bar; Salvo Lane; Tesas City.

"Take care of yourself man," Bryan said as he hugged Danny Jefferies. "Stay outta trouble. Might be difficult for you, but..." he said sarcastically.

"Shut up, sir," Jefferies said with a grin when they broke off.

They exchanged a laugh as Jefferies picked up his bag. He'd been reassigned to the Cruiser Falcon yesterday, and the Falcon was on its way to another repair depot in the Tulas sector. It was leaving in half-an-hour.

"I'll see ya aroun,' Bryan," he said with a bright smile.

"See ya around, Danny."

Jefferies nodded curtly and started for the bar's entrance.

"Bye, man!" Bryan called.

"Bye!"

Bryan smiled, then calmly sat back down at the table, taking a sip of his Glazer. "I like him. You know?" he said to Kevin and Evan, the only other people sitting with him.

"Yeah, man," Evan answered. "Good man. Knows his shit pretty well."

"Helluva rapper too," Kevin added.

Evan grinned in agreement. "Yes, sir."

"You better believe it," Bryan said in accord. He'd been Jefferies's main teacher over the last year-and-a-half, and got to know the man pretty well. Originally, Bryan had been somewhat terrified of him, when his report came in as him being a severe trouble maker. But Bryan had soon learned that due to the Alliance's horrible archives, the report he'd gotten was a civilian record that had been written by an Imperial officer on Beru. Jefferies had been the leader of the Archale Uprising, which explained away the entire report.

And now he was leaving, having been promoted to Lieutenant Third. Bryan couldn't help but feel proud for his friend, the type of pride a teacher got when he/she watched their students succeed. It was a lame feeling yes, but it felt very good. And since he still was recovering from the battle, any feeling that wasn't sad or tragic was a good feeling to have. Jefferies was amongst the many hundreds that had left Sallop IV already in the last week, having been reassigned or transferred to another starship, or had just left, like Molly had the day after she arrived.

Bryan looked over at the twins proudly and sadly at the same time. They had each been reassigned to a different ship; Kevin to the Hindra, Evan to the Defender. Both had gained ample experience aboard the Faith, and again, Bryan was filled to the brims with a huge pride, knowing full that he'd soon see those two men rising up in the ranks. They were still young yet, but they were extremely intelligent, though they chose to hide it most of the time. But Bryan didn't mind that. He did it too. So long as they got down to business when they had to...

God, I'm gonna miss them too, he thought with a drink of his Glazer. Maxie too, wherever she goes. If she goes that is. Oh, what am I talking about. If she doesn't get Commander on a Cruiser then I'm...I'm filing a complaint...or something. His thoughts went straight to Emilie. Please give her a job Emilie...please, please, please.

"Bryan!" Kevin half-shouted.

The Commander snapped out of his thoughtful trance. "Huh, what?"

"Goddam, man, where do you go?" Kevin asked. "Everytime..."

Evan laughed.

"Whaddaya mean where do I go? I don't go anywhere. I was just thinking, that's all."

"Thinkin'? Abou' what?"

"Nothin' much really." He looked at both of them and then decided to be honest. "About how much I'm gonna miss my pilots...you know—Jefferies, you guys, Maxie..." His eyes found the twins faces again. "You think she's still being serious?" he asked, sounding upset and annoyed.

Evan looked down at the table, while Kevin just shrugged. "Prob-a-bly man," Kevin suggested. "I think she was really freaked out by that attack. Freaked out 'til the breakin' point."

"Yeah, I know, but..." He growled lightly. "It wasn't our fault—I mean, it's not her fault that so many people she knew died in the battle. I mean that was—that was just the Empire...killin' everybody. It—it's—it's not her fault. I mean—" he sighed in irritation. "You know what I'm saying here right? It's just—"

"—Yeah—"

"—Yeah—"

"—that I—"

"—but Bryan thas not gonna stop her from quittin', man. I'd love for her to stay on too but...ya know."

Bryan gave up with another frustrated sigh. Quitting was another action that was rising in the numbers. So far,—after only a week—over 2500 people had "resigned"(a.k.a. quit!)from the Alliance. And the scary fact was that over a third of those were from people who hadn't fought in the battle. Instead, that third was in amongst the other shifts which had sat waiting in suspense and praying that their comrades in shift one would make it out alive. Emilie had ordered the other three shifts to remain where they were and not intervene. Her reasoning was that more ships equaled more time, and therefore, more sacrificed lives: an accurate statement. He only hoped that it would hold up to the Alliance Congress' investigation and review.

As for Maxie, her reasoning for quitting was like everybody else's: fear. Not just of dying, but of losing more loved ones. Bryan still had the image of her crying face, circling around his memory like ghost that haunted his mind. It was hard for him to see her like this, what with being one of her best friends, one of her roommates, and her former flight teacher. He loved her as a friend(strictly as a friend, much to the dismay of gossipers who had been on board on the Faith), and hated to see her in a bad mood because she was always fun to be around when she was cheery and excited. Though ninety percent of her cheerfulness was usually from being drunk, she still always had a "happy" aura about her. At least that's how she was every time he'd seen her. And she was a damn good pilot too.

Bryan's blood rushed, but he tried not to get angry. If she wanted to quit, then that was up to her, and he wouldn't stand in her way. He was only flustered because flying wouldn't be the same without her. Since he'd become used to her as his wingmate, he was definitely going to miss her flying next to him in formation. Oh, Bryan, get over it, he thought as he took a long sip. You're thinking way too much about this. Besides, it's not like you'll see her next to you anyway. Even if she doesn't quit, she's likely to get a promotion somewhere, so she still won't be your wingmate. He sighed roughly. "Why hasn't Emilie given me an answer yet?" he moaned to no one.

Kevin and Evan laughed.

"Whoa," Evan replied, leaning away from the table. "Calm down. It's not the end of the world, here, man."

"Jeez..." Kevin added. "Woo!"

Bryan couldn't help but laugh at himself. "Sorry guys. I'm just a little frustrated, that's all."

Evan cocked his head. "Hey, we understand. Fully, ya know? Nothin' wrong wit feelin' that way. I mean, ya know, we'll miss her too. An' you too, sir." He paused for a long moment. "All of ya."

"Same here for you, boys. Won't be the same. But so we're clear before you leave tommora'..." he leaned into the table. "You don't have to call me 'sir' right now. We're in a bar for Christ's sake. Call me 'sir' when we're in the air, so to speak. All right?"

They laughed.

"—yeah, yeah, all right, Bryan, all right—"

"—okay, okay—"

It was Bryan's turn to chuckle, and he drowned his soft laughter into his glass. It was refreshing and, for the moment, soothed his troubled mind. At least for a couple of moments. "Tell me, has she talked to you guys at all, though?" His eyes bounced back and forth from one twin to the other.

"Oh, no," Evan responded with a shake of his head.

"Uh-uh," Kevin said with a slight opening in his lips.

Evan snickered humorously. "You the only one she talks to anyway. About stuff like...emotional stuff, the good days, the bad days...any other days she might've had, problems...ya know, stuff like that." He snickered again. "She wouldn't talk to us abou' anything serious. The last time she did talk to us about anything serious was when we drank the last of the kanganra. Remember that?"

Bryan grinned at that memory. It was a year-and-a-half ago, on the night after he had promoted Maxie to Colonel. Garkuk Bos'leth, the bartender—who had been transported off the Faith like all non-essential personnel had been for the Battle of Deil Nine—had thrown an all-night party for her in the Starlight Lounge. That was the night she asked Bryan her classic question: "Are red and blue the same color?" She had been so wasted that Bryan was afraid that someone was gonna try and take advantage of her. Though he trusted the guys on the Faith with his life—mainly because sometimes he had too—he would never trust barely any of them around a drunk woman. One of the night's funniest memories was when Kevin and Evan had downed the last of Bos'leth's most popular drink, the multi-liquored kangrana soprome, the Fedrellons' most intoxicating beverage export. When Maxie went up to the bar to get some—she hadn't had any yet—and found it to be all gone, she went back and cussed the twins out in a drunken rage that was one of the funniest things Bryan had ever seen because it reminded him of Act Three, Scene Two of A Midsummer Night's Dream, when the lovers(Lysander, Demetrius, Hermia, and Helena) had their fight. Every director he'd ever worked with always had the fight be reminiscent of old-style slapstick comedy, and that's exactly what had happened between Maxie and the twins. She tried to pick a fight with them, but was so out-of-it that all they could do were slow slaps that missed almost every time. The supposed "battle" circled their table four times without a single hit, knocked over five different chairs, spilled ten drinks, and finally ended when Bos'leth finally stopped Maxie from chasing the twins—in the middle of the performance stage in the Lounge. The three got that far. Bryan found these moments funny. Drunk people were so fun to watch from a sober point-of-view...but that wasn't a nice thing to think...but still. I'm gonna miss her a lot...

Realizing he was starting to zone out again, Bryan snapped out of his thoughts just in time to hear Kevin say:

"Hey, you know what I jus' realized?" He exchanged bright-eyed glances with his brother and Bryan. "This is gonna be the first time me and him'll be apart since we were born." He thought for a moment, then gazed at Bryan. "Basically."

Bryan raised his eyebrows. Out of the corner of his eyes, he spotted two alien figures approaching their table. "Really? Wow, that's...gonna be different I'm sure." He turned his head towards the figures coming at them, and immediately recognized the two of them: Lukath Federher, a female Bundan tech officer on the Returion, who had been introduced to Bryan two days ago by the man walking next to her, Vigel Benter, the thin Toski pilot who had been transferred off the Faith to the Returion, at the beginning of the present year.

Grinning wide, Vigel looked down at Kevin. He said something in his native language, which came out the UT at his belt as: "Is that so? Well boys, I give you my best hopes and I hope your masturbation segments will be as magical as they are—"he started breaking into laughter"—when your with each other." He finally broke into a laugh reminiscent of that to the Joker's in the movie Batman.

Kevin smacked his lips, grinning. "Shut the fuck up...buck-toothed, ugly-lookin' monkey."

Evan just shook his head and laughed.

Bryan grinned up at Vigel, then kicked out a chair. "Hey guys. Siddown. Have a drink. Talk with us."

Vigel held up a glass, something Bryan hadn't noticed he had had. Contained in it was a light green liquid which Bryan had never seen before and assumed that it was a drink from his home planet, Henial. "Already got my drink."

Bryan stared, wondering. "What is it?"

Vigel sat, not offering Lukath one first. "Firkys gonz."

"Hmm," Bryan said, not having a clue in the world what that was. "So how are you today?" he asked Lukath as she placed a seat at the table.

Lukath leaned her ear towards Vigel then shrugged and answered in her own language, which again was filtered through her Vigel's UT, but since his legs were now under the table, the translation came out muffled and not understandable.

Vigel reached down and snatched the UT from his belt. "Oh, sorry." He placed the box on the tabletop.

"Say it again," Bryan told Lukath, and his voice came out in the Bundan language.

Lukath leaned in again, then sat back up and responded with the same words. "I'm fine today," came the translation. "How are you?"

"Good," Bryan replied, taking a drink.

Nobody spoke for a while.

Vigel ending up breaking the silence, after he looked around the table and then the bar itself. "So where's Maxie?"

Bryan pointed his finger to the ceiling. "Probably still in her room, sleeping."

Vigel made a strange face and then glanced down at his watch.

"She likes to sleep," Bryan said quickly.

"It's past twelve-thirty—"

"—Especially now after the battle. She just lays up there and barely gets up sometimes." He shook his head. "And I don know what to do with her. Pretty bummed."

"Oh," Vigel said slowly. "I'm sorry. She lost some friends in that?"

"We all did," he answered simply, exchanging quick glances with everyone at the table. Another long silence ensued while everyone took a sip from their drinks.

And again, Vigel broke it. "Hey I know a way to cheer her up—Maxie." He pointed at Bryan and grinned. "You two get married yet?"

Bryan tossed his head back, rolled his eyes, and moaned. "For cryin' out loud, will you STOP that already! We are not getting married! For God's sake, wh–why–what–what is–what is the deal with this? Wha-why is this so...important to you?"

The twins flashed their teeth in amusing grins as they watched Bryan stutter and stumble.

"Because it should happen," Vigel asked.

"Why should it happen?"

"Whats...?" Lukath started, looking back and forth at the two men.

"Maxie Linwood, my Colonel, and I are close friends. Close to the point where we scare people. And for the longest time I can imagine here, everybody has told us that we act like a married couple. A few have even insisted that we get married." Gesturing at Vigel, he continued, "And he's one of 'em. A huge one of 'em. He still says we should be married even when we've made it very clear that that's never gonna happen. Yet he insists. So..." he sighed heavily and shook his head at him. "And I've had a girlfriend for the last five years so..." Rosy...

"So what? There's huge chemistry between you two."

"And there was even more chemistry between me and...my girlfriend, Vigel," Bryan defended with a little of irritation.

Across the table, the twins laughter had died quickly, and now they stared at Bryan with nervous tension.

"And I'd appreciate if you stop mentioning marriage around me, all right?" Bryan snapped. He didn't give the Toski a chance to respond. "Because Rosy died five months ago!" His eyes threw knives at Vigel, and the entire joke suddenly became one serious subject that Bryan didn't find very funny.

"Okay, okay!" Vigel said, backing off. "I was just kidding."

Bryan's hard expression didn't soften a bit. "I understand that, but it's not funny anymore, all right?"

"All right, all right! Sorry. I didn't know that Rosy had died and I'm sorry."

Finally, Bryan breathed. "It's all right. Just don' bring it up again please." He drank down the rest of his Glazer. After that, it took him all but two seconds to see the tension in everybody. The twins were nervously glancing around, seeing if anybody in the bar had noticed the scene. Lukath had leaned back in her chair and was exchanging glances with the twins every now and then. Inside, Bryan felt very awkward but angry at the same time. He didn't care though. Vigel just needed to learn where the line between funny and annoying was. By now, Bryan was fed up with the "couples" joke.

"Bryan!"

Bryan slowly turned to find his caller. His eyes immediately found Maya Ranadon, her dark silhouette walking fast towards his table. Oh great, Bryan thought blandly. Just what I need right now. Maya...

"Yayes?" Bryan asked, low in energy to the point where he allowed his voice to turn to a southern accent.

Maya bounded up tp him. "Did you see the news today?" she asked urgently.

"No."

"They're blaming Emilie!"

Uh-oh. "For what?" Bryan asked suspiciously. Oh, I bet I know. "Not for the attack I hope?"

Maya nodded fast. "Yes, for the attack!"

Bryan turned his out, legs itching to stand up. "What! How much of the attack?"

"The entire thing! They—they say—"

"—are you kidding me?"

"—that she acted arrogantly during the battle and–and like—"

"—what? How the hell—?"

"—your kiddin' me—" Evan added.

"—what the hell—!" Kevin scowled.

Vigel and Lukath remained shocked and silent.

"—she could've lost the entire first shift and like—well it's just crazy. They're blaming her for everything!"

"'Acted arrogantly?'" Bryan repeated. He looked at Maya like she was crazy. "How did she act arrogantly? If anything, she acted with courage and–and valiancy. She–she–she–she saved the fleet! How did–how did they come to this!"

Maya looked distraught, almost like Maxie had been last week. "I don't know. They said they looked at all the evidence and...I dunno, they just said it was her fault!"

Bryan was up the next instant. "Bastards!" he said through gritted teeth. "I hate Congress!" He shoved past Maya. "This is ridiculous!" He stormed towards the entrance to the Pust. "Excuse me, guys!" He half-shouted to the four people still seated at the table. Trailing Maya, the furious man rushed out of the bar and into the day outside, as the wind howled around him.

1:46 PM Same day. Husindad Donish; Calagog Street; Tesas City

Justin watched the monitor in astonishment. His jaw was slightly dropped, and his nails digging into the sides of his chair. At the back of his hearing, he heard the soft sound of humming coming from the bedroom.

On the screen was a pre-recorded scene of Admiral Emilie Rodenski standing in the front of the Cor Lal hotel, the one she was staying in. She was being questioned by Sallopian and CivilianNet reporters alike. Her eyes were getting glazed and tired, and her shoulders had sunk to practically out of vision. When she spoke, half of her sentences came out in stutters and she paused often before answering a question. Previous questions had included things like "Is it true that you didn't call for help from any other Alliance vessels?" and "Admiral, what about the Intelligence? Are you sure you read it thoroughly before going into battle?" and "Admiral, was the Intelligence solid?" and other stupid questions. Near the top of the picture was a red-lettered sentence against the background of the CivilianNet web-like insignia. It said: ADMIRAL RODENSKI BLAMED FOR DISASTER AT DEIL NINE.

This is ridiculous! Justin thought. What did she do? She was fighting out there like all of us! Staring at the woman's pretty brown eyes, he could do nothing but shake his head in astonishment. This woman was innocent. Completely innocent. She was just an Admiral caught in an attack that had gone wrong. It was Alliance Intelligence who fucked up, with their supposed "verified yesterday" information! What pissed Justin off the most was that Congress hadn't exactly said why they were blaming her. Probably because they need a scapegoat to take the blame off them, the blood-sucking son's of a bitches! Justin turned the monitor off in fury.

This whole situation kept getting worse everyday. He'd barely be able to sleep for the last week. Sam not laying next to him was...unbearable. Nightmares of the Defiance's bridge exploding all around her had plagued him for six consecutive nights. He was tired, weak, and depressed. Far more depressed than he wanted to be...

For the second time today, his eyes shifted over to the balcony, but the thought passed.

Now an innocent person was being blamed for something that wasn't her fault in the least sense! A warrior who had handled the out-of-control battle with impressive skill and patience. Her ship was the last to leave for cryin' out loud! The Liberty was almost destroyed by the Punisher! How can they do this to her! He bet Bryan was just as pissed off as he was right now somewhere. For good reason!

Just then, the room's elegant doorchime sounded. Justin got up out of his comfortable chair and paced towards the door, surprising to find a slight bounce in his step. Reaching the thin door, he called. "Who is it?"

Outside, R2 garbled and whistled.

Justin pressed his finger against the opener. The door parted to reveal R2—

—and a tall, green man standing behind him. It was a Fedrellon. A familiar Fedrellon.

"Bach!" Justin exclaimed in surprise. He stepped forward towards the man, clapped hands with him, then pulled him into a quick hug.

Lars Bachne, also known as "Bach," was a good Fedrellon; something that rarely occurred inside the species. Everything else about him was typical Fedrellon though: he was tall, green-skinned, and immensely muscular. His head was shaped like a huge egg, with long, cinnamon-hued hair that went all the way to just below his shoulders. The eyes were outlined with red iris' and large black pupils.

But the man had a heart almost as pure as Sam's...had been.

Bachne was Chief of the maintenance and repair crews on Service Station Thirty-seven, a dry dock that orbited the gas giant Olani. It was where the Defiance had undergone it's long months of repair after Admiral Colvon's defensive. Both him and Sam had gotten to know the man very well in the five months they'd spent there. He had been very helpful in getting Sam back on her feet and out of her long depression spell. Justin had been infinitively thankful to the man for all he'd done to support his late wife.

"How aryu Justin?" Bachne asked, his English remarkably clear. And somewhat British-sounding.

"I'm good, man." He scanned the man up his entire body. "How've you been? Um, Come on in." He stepped back from the door to let his old friend in. R2 followed, and then promptly rolled onto the balcony for some reason.

"I'm surprised to see you. What are you doing here?" he asked with a chuckle.

"Half of ma crew was called to help relieve the workers over at Curansti base," he said with a grin, stepping inside to let the door close. "They were overwhelmed by all those Cruiser's and Frigates and ships of yours. Never saw it comin'."

Justin's expression went neutral. "None of us did, Bach."

Bachne nodded in understanding. "Yes, I know. Somatha footage from tha battle was hard to watch. All those people that had to die...I couldt believe it." He tugged at the collar of his indigo shirt. "Sorry, it's a bit warm in heare. Must be tha planet, I think."

Justin snickered. "Yeah, this place is pretty windy." He turned his body towards the small kitchen. "Hey, you wan' something to drink? I can go grab ya something from the liquor cabinet."

"What do they have here?"

Justin stopped and thought. "Well, now that I think of it, not much. Just some ferregrino, which you might like, or I could get you a glass of Kagrin starkin if you'd like?"

"Uh, I'll take the starkin please, thank you."

"You got it," Justin answered as he started for the kitchen. "Have a seat and we'll talk." Quietly, he opened the liquor cabinet above the wide sink. Pulling out the starkin first, he started pouring it then stopped after a second. "How much do you want!" He called to Bachne.

"Oh...abou' half a glaass. Already had one strong drink today."

"All right." He continued pouring the glass until it was half-empty, then put the starkin back and grabbed the ferregrino. This particular bottle, Dassmond ferregrino, had a taste like cream, and much more soothing to the tongue than the bland taste of starkin. "So how did you get over here?" Justin in casual conversation as he poured his own glass.

"Hmm? Oh, ah, my ship."

"The Casarla or the...whatever it's called."

"The Kahsharha."

Justin grimaced. "Sorry."

"Nou problem. But jus' don't tell them I'm here all right?"

"Uh-oh," Justin snickered, finally feeling a little more on the bright. "You snuck over here?" He put the ferregrino back in the cabinet.

"Yes, kind of snuck ou' in the middl' autha night. Kind of liyck aow you snuck out during tha' drill—tha emergency drill back at Station Thirty-seven. To be with–Sam," he finished with a little hesitation.

Justin eyed him somberly. He knows. The mention of her name made Justin's muscles tighten, and his expression sagged a bit as he walked out of the kitchen back into the living room. But he still tried to keep his smile. "Could we not talk about that?"

"About what? Houw you got there?" He smirked. "Or what you two dih when you gah there?"

Justin stopped before handing him his drink, hesitating in growing anger. He couldn't help but think: Bastard.

He must have betrayed himself somehow, because he saw Bachne's smirk melt into pursed lips and the twinkle in his eye vanish. He cleared his throat in embarrassment. "Ium sorry. Bad zhoke."

The human finally handed the Fedrellon his drink. And when he did, Bachne grabbed onto the glass and didn't pull it to him. His red eyes looked up at Justin's for a few moments. "I herd what happined abou' tha Defiance. And Ium sorry." He pressed the glass to his lips and drank as Justin sat back down in his original chair.

You better be for that, Justin thought. "It's all right. Just...I don't think I'm ready for the jokes yet."

Bachne waved off the comment. "Ium sorry, Justin. That was wrung for me todo." He took another sip and stared. "How 'ave you been since Sam...?"

Justin didn't let him finish. "I've been all right. I mean, I could definitely feel better, but," he drank, "I've been told I'm taking it well."

"Good. Thas nice to her."

The door to the bedroom opened up then, and the thick, short body of Caldoran Sergeant Arex Chades stepped out into the living room; he was another pilot of the Defiance that had survived. Beyond him was the dark bedroom that he had been meditating in for the last hour-and-a-half, humming what he had said was his family's bonding song. The man's thin hair was slicked almost all the way back, a result of the turban-like oped hat he wore during the meditation. And now his walk made him look dignified; a jump up from the man who had walked into the bedroom slouching and trudging not long ago.

"Hey," Justin said to him. "This is Lars Bachne. He's visiting us from Olani."

"Well thas where I normully wurk. Right now I'm helping repair tha Cruisers that docked at Curansti bass."

Arex nodded curtly. Speaking his Caldoran language, it took a moment for the UT to translate. "Oh, that's nice. Hello."

"Hello. How did tha batle go for you?"

Arex hesitated, thinking. "Pretty well for the most part. I managed to pick off a lot of kills before it was over. Can't say the fleet did too well though; how do they look?"

Bachne sucked in air and flashed his eyebrows in concern. "Pretty bad, Ium sorry to say. I wish we could wurk a miracle and repaw thum ull, but I don't think thas gonna happin. Sum of thum are damushzed well beyond ah reach."

"Damn," Arex said with a frown. "Do you know if the Cruiser Zalkatan was sent there? It isn't here and I'm trying to find it because my brother's on it and I haven't been able to get in touch with him."

Bachne sat back and thought. "Umm." He sighed. "You knuw what, I believe it is. Tha Zalkatan you said?" He nodded, now looking positive. "Ium pretty sure that wus it."

Arex stood more taller now, somewhat relieved. "Good." He gazed over at Justin. "Now I know where to go."

Justin forced a smile. "Cool, man."

The Caldoran's big eyes sank slightly. "You don't mind if I go and visit him...?"

Justin closed his eyes and shook his head.

"...sometime tomorrow, maybe?" he finished.

"Not a problem man. Go see him. He's your brother, you should see him."

Arex smiled. "All right. Thanks, man."

"Again, not a problem."

Arex kept his smile as he walked into the kitchen.

Justin and Bachne exchanged glances, grinning at each other. They then both took a long drink out of their glasses.

"I'd say wed need more than a miracle to repair those 'hings," Bachne said.

"Hmm. Well, if anyone can perform miracles, its you Bach. You and your...boys made the Defiance look...spectacular. Almost a perfect job. Looked like you just built a brand new one from nothing but scrap, ya know? And that ship had been...beaten the crap out of it."

Bachne grinned.

"I mean..." Justin could nothing but shake his head, picturing the ghostly-looking, practically derelict Cruiser Defiance that had been towed into the dry dock and had been the center of attention on the primetime news networks, both planetary and intergalactic. He forced the image of his distressed wife, crying as she watched her once glorious ship practically fall apart as it was towed inside docking cage Beta, out of his mind.

"I knuw," Bachne answered, remembering it himself. "But thas because we, basically, did build a brand new one frum scrap, to tell you tha truth. It wus bad enough so I had too."

Justin couldn't help but smile, and he took another sip, now unable to keep the previous image out of his mind. "I don't remember Sam takin' it that well either." He exchanged a somber glance with Bachne. Then, finally, he let out his secret, one he had, so far, been able to keep under wraps. "I quit piloting. Submitted my resignation—two days ago."

Bachne raised his eyebrows in surprise. "You did? Why? Naught because of tha battle I hope?"

Justin fixed him with an iron stare. "But—yes, because of the battle. Bach, that was the worst thing I've ever gone through. I lost...my wife, a lot of my friends, um, but B—"

"Justin, quittng is nut gonna mak tha pain go away. Why are you doing this? You're a goo' pilot from what I've seen."

"Because—because I don't like flying anymore, but Bach—"

"Why don' you like it?"

"Bach, I'm gonna tell you why in a minute, but can you hold on please and let me finish?"

The Fedrellon blinked, then leaned back, his facial expression softening. "Sure. Sorry."

"That's all right. Now Bach, I said I was quitting piloting. I didn't say I was quitting the Alliance, and I'm not. I'm gonna—"

"—oh—"

"—be a tactician somewhere. Already applied for it, so hopefully sometime soon."

From somewhere in the kitchen, Justin heard a couple sentences in a strange language before the UT kicked in. "Justin, that's still quitting something. What makes you think you won't quit being a tactician? I mean, when something goes wrong like a battle, or you lose another friend you love dearly? What then? Do you quit again?"

"No, I don't, Arex. But I don't think anything like this will happen again. I think I can stick with a tactician's job. Besides, I've always felt better when I'm not in the air." In other words, when I'm with Sam.

More Caldoran language. "That's not a real excuse."

"Well no ones asking you, are they, Arex, so shut up," Justin snapped.

"Hey, can you be nice? I'm trying to help you."

Justin turned to look into the kitchen, and found Arex standing right out in the open at the entrance to it, staring out at Justin with a glare slowly creeping over his face, wide eyes becoming narrow and the eyebrows above them dropping low. "I'm being nice, Arex," he said, iron-staring him back. "Believe me."

The Caldoran's stare broke, and he rolled his eyes and went back to work in the kitchen. "Fine, Justin. Sorry I even bothered."

Justin brought his head around and drank again. Hearing the windows rattle, he flashed a long glance out at the balcony, first seeing R2, raised on his legs, looking out at the view. Judging by the sound he had heard, he knew it was the fierce winds acting up again. They were a dangerous force on this planet. "So," he said, looking back at Bach, "have you heard about Admiral Rodenski yet?"

"No. What about 'er? She's pretty."

Justin nodded in agreement. "That she is. But Congress is still blaming her for what went wrong at the battle of Deil Nine."

Bachne was practically dumbfounded. "What? Their blaming her for that? What di' she do wrong?"

"Well, they're saying she acted arrogantly and didn't care about anybody else but herself, and—"

"What! Their zhoking, right?"

"I wish, man, but that's what all the news networks are saying." He reached for the button to the monitor. "Let me show you."