Nudge /nəj/ A light touch or push
- oo - oo

"The song is great," gushed a passing trooper, "Really hits home, you know."

"I know right? It's like Shock the Quo pulled back on the gritty rock but really still really punched it. It's not even on any album. It's totally new," his friend replied equally jazzed.

"You know what we should do? We should learn the song. Did you see how the girls were all kind of misty eyed?" said the third.

Sergeant Zim frowned as he headed for the Valley Forge's bar. By the time he got there, he knew it would be closed- that's where these troopers were coming from after all. But a closed bar was exactly what he needed to fill a different kind of quiet his office can't seem to provide. Because every time he turned on the new SICON approved music on his radio, he heard that song.

The song everyone has been talking about for two weeks straight.

The song that everyone had been enamoured with.

It was ridiculous.

It was just another song by a rock band going acoustic. It was a neat trick. A plan that worked everytime. When a usually rough sounding band suddenly goes unplugged, it's always seems like such a great shock. If only people realized that it's been done over and over again by almost every band in existence.

"But sarge, don't you hear it?" Private Flores told him a few days ago when he very nicely asked to shut off the radio system. "It's about a guy and girl who just keep missing each other by seconds. And he's just saying that if he had his way, he'll be there when she gets there," she explained. "It so sweet," she added.

Zim remembered just staring at the girl like she was a bug while he turned the damn speaker off. He never thought Flores was that type of a girl until that moment.

But it didn't matter. He might've turned the transmission to the Roughneck's racks off, but the whole ship was still abuzz about the same song.

For two weeks.

A closed bar, he knew, is going to solve everything.

He paused at the door, hearing the piano playing inside but the sign firmly said it was closed. He punched in the code he got from the officer who runs the bar anyway and let himself in. The place was closed alright- Chairs are on the table, the floor was moped clean and the glasses were all clean and shiny with only Captain Chekov behind the bar, wiping the last traces of tonight's excess.

Zim made a beeline for the bar not minding the fact that the piano was still playing on the second landing.

"The usual?" Chekov asked him, already readying a tumbler with ice.

"Yep," he sighed, taking a seat on a bar stool listening to the faint voice singing with the piano.

Coz I know you see what I see

The darkness passing through me

The specks of light and satellites surround.

And my heart screams to the cosmos

To find the beat it needs most

Clover tags, strings don't ask,

I swear, I'll see you on the other side

The sergeant grimaced. It was that damned song again. Granted, it sounded a bit different but still. He swore the song was haunting him. "Who's playing?" he demanded.

"You don't know?" the captain raised a brow at him. "She's one of yours, sergeant."

"One of mine?"

"Yes sir. Anderson," Chekov informed him as he wiped the other counters down. "She's been helping me close this place down in return to playing that run down piano after hours."

Sergeant Zim rolled his eyes. He normally didn't care much what the trooper did on her downtime as long as she does what's required of her. But tonight was an exception. "Private Anderson!" he yelled.

The piano stopped playing, and a familiar trooper innocently leaned on the railings of the second landing, looking straight at him. "Sergeant Zim," she returned smirking.

"Front and center," he ordered. Oh, he saw the trooper roll her eyes as she pushed herself off the railings and hurried down. "The other Roughnecks are in bed. Where you should be," he informed her.

The girl shot him a confused expression. "You never had a problem with me scheduling my own time in the simulators when the rest of the squad is asleep. I don't see a problem here," she defended then paused and added, "Sir."

"The bar's closed, Anderson," he snapped.

"Yeah. And yet, you're here too, sarge," she shot back slowly. "... You alright? You don't usually set yourself up for that kind of answer."

Zim grumbled glaring at the kid who just went around behind the bar to fix herself a drink, suddenly remembering that her file said she did bartend and play in some punk band. He sighed deciding to just unload. He knew this one would keep quiet. And she does already know about him and the Sky Marshall anyway, though she hasn't revealed exactly how. "It's that damned song, Anderson."

"Which song? SICON just approved the release of forty to the fleet," she answered.

The sergeant just stared at her. "You know full well which one, kid. The one everyone won't shut about."

The girl smiled. "Slipstream by Shock the Quo," she replied easily. "What's wrong with it? It's a great acoustic song."

"It's everywhere," he complained.

"So was Plaster last month, and The Singularity Force, the month before," she said. "You didn't seem to have a problem with those songs." Then she leaned on the bar and wagged her eyebrows, grinning. "It's making you miss her, huh, old man," she teased, barely whispering. "Sarge, be a man. Stop pining, get out of the bar, and just call Redwing. It's not that hard to do."

Zim narrowed his eyes at the young trooper. Did this girl always have to shoot to kill? "Shutter it, Anderson."

"Come on, sir. And all good songs make you feel something. " she replied, "You're human. It's fine. Everyone has someone they miss."

The sergeant raised his gaze curiously. "You sound like you're talking from experience, ape," he noted.

"I miss my friends, sarge," she said. "It's not like I blend in around here."

"But you said, and I repeat- Everyone has someone," Zim pointed out. "Who's you're specific someone?"

He watched her shake her head, amused, taking the dogtags hanging from her neck. He must be getting old because upon further inspection, Anderson had three dogtags and not the customary two. The first two had her name on it, of course. But the last tag had different name with a different set of insignias.

A familiar boy's name- Michael Turner, the hotshot pilot that was formerly the head of the Gettysburg fighter squadrons and was dishonourably discharged for punching the XO. Gambit was his call sign. According to Flores, that was also the same name of the band's lead singer. The dogtags were taken just as Zim raised his gaze to the Roughneck in surprise.

"You've been listening to him," Anderson confirmed, slipping the tags back over her head and tucking them in her shirt then taking a drink. "So sarge, are you ready?"

Zim gripped his glass a bit tighter, sighed and tipped back the rest of his drink. "I got it in my crosshairs," he replied as coolly as possible, placing his empty glass on the counter.

"Then get to it, boss," The trooper challenged, taking the glass and automatically placed it in the sink.

The sergeant grimaced, taking his time to slide off the stool. "You must have been a hell of a bartender, kid," he said, chucking a few coins on the table. She gave him a mock salute, placing the coins into the register like she's been working there all along. Charles Zim nodded, steeled his nerves and walked towards the door.

Humming.