Returning from the crypts seemed to take forever.

The interring had been more draining than Naomi had imagined it would be, even more so than her mother's. She had been too young then to grasp the reality of what had happened, but now, the full weight of her father's passing, and what it meant, had settled uncomfortably on her shoulders.

Mentally and emotionally exhausted, she was slumped against the railing at the back of the pod, while she sped through the transit system. Her mind wandering fitfully over the events of the previous week. She recoiled physically as an image of her father's last message, hastily scrawled in his own blood, drifted out of the haze clouding her mind.

It's just too much

When the pod eventually slowed to a halt Naomi, grateful there had been no other passengers, sank to the floor and sat in silence, struggling to gather her thoughts. For now, the cold, polymer floor suited her mood and the insulated silence of the transport pod felt more welcoming than her small quarters.

Everything's changed. And there's nothing I can do about it.

It shamed her to admit, but Naomi had taken great pride in her father's position, in her family's legacy. She knew it was a privilege not everyone had, the early access, the training, the opportunity. She had been all but destined to be on the Bridge Crew. But now, with her father gone, uncertainty loomed over her. She was going to get her position, that was assured. She had earned it, privilege or not, she had never rested on her laurels. But the question was whether she still wanted it. Whether it still lay in her list of possible futures.

She could follow in his footsteps, resist the Burner's, but he had been captain. She didn't have the same insulation he did.

And they still got to him in the end.

There was a decision to be made. Naomi knew her heart had already decided, but her mind had yet to catch up. In her head she was still unconsciously running through cost/benefit analyses, and they didn't agree with what she knew had to be done.

~

The call button buzzed.

Naomi hopped to her feet, unconsciously dusting down her overalls, and attempted to look at ease as the doors slid open. She jumped slightly as Artan, one of her few close friends, popped his head around the edge of the door before it had opened fully.

'Ah good, you are here!'

His cheery voice tugged at her, annoyance rising in her throat before she could swallow it down. Hopefully, it hadn't spread to her expression. Artan was a good friend, had been since their final year in BASIC, but he also knew how to push her buttons and would take every chance to do so. Particularly if he felt she needed some grounding.

'Artan, what are you doing here?' She paused for a second, 'Actually no. How the hell did you know I was on this lift in the first place?'

He flushed at her interrogation.

Knowing him, the means he had used to find her location had only been semi-legal at best. Artan was a trainee in the Security Information Systems Group, and was, as he frequently mentioned, marked for eventual placement in Security Admin. A position almost as hard to earn academically as the bridge crew and far more physically demanding. Even at his current level, he had cultivated an extensive list of contacts and, with his particular brand of charm, had likely gotten access to her GPS logs or perhaps even video feeds.

'Waiting for you of course. What else would we be doing in this neighbourhood? I mean, I stand out like a sore thumb, but Sasha here is positively lighting up the security net right now.'

Artan grunted as his companion, walking into view, thumped him soundly on the arm.

She did stand out of course.

A Deep Systems engineer, she had her own certain brand of style, which did not have much in common with the rest of the ship. Spending a large part of her time in dark terminal rooms, she had a tendency to dress exuberantly, bright clashing colours, clothes that looked like little more than strips of cloth held together with netting and loose thread, and hair that seemed to change colour depending on the angle you viewed it from.

And she would have been flagged by Security, at least temporarily anyway, until her rank and security clearance were checked. They were currently in the Officer's District, an area reserved for bridge crew, other senior officers, and their families. Someone with Sasha's sense of style stood out like a sore thumb amongst the well-manicured avenues and lawns that decorated the deck. She shrugged it all off anyway, for her conformity was someone else's problem.

'Not my fault if you officer-people like to wear dress uniform in your downtime.' She looked Naomi up and down appraisingly. 'Although, by the looks of it, I probably don't have quite as much fun. Sure you don't have someone else in there with you? You look a bit ruffled.'

Naomi glanced down self-consciously at her dress uniform. Almost home, she had opened her jacket and unbuttoned her shirt more than would be appropriate in the company of other officers. One tail of her shirt had become untucked when she pulled off the vac-suit and one of her bootlaces was undone.

She couldn't stop the mischievous grin that crept along her face.

'Jealous Sasha? I know you guys in Deep Systems say you don't get much social time. Most of the bridge crew just think you lot are unimaginative.'

Naomi's response received a snort of laughter from Sasha and an approving wink from Artan, which earned him another thump from Sasha.

The three friend's smiled at each other, and Naomi felt the pressure of her grief ease for the first time in days.

'Anyway,' Artan said quickly, diverting the subject away from himself, 'We haven't heard from you in days, not since we heard the news. We figured you would want some time to yourself, but when we heard how fast the ceremony was arranged we decided you probably needed a bit of company.'

'Well, I am a bit tired...'

It was the truth. Naomi had rarely felt that tire, that worn out. But it was also hard for her to keep a straight face. She rarely let Artan get away with anything too easily.

'Nonsense. I didn't go to all this trouble for you to be stubborn.'

Artan produced a bottle of wine from behind his back. Naomi glanced at the label; a strong vintage from a prestigious vineyard nearly five years away. Not cheap, and certainly the type reserved for special occasions.

'This stuff doesn't come cheap, and I had to jump through hoops and pull in favours with five different importers to get my hands on it.'

'Artan, you shouldn't have gone to so much trouble...'

'Nonsense again,' Sasha chimed in while swinging an arm around Naomi's shoulder.

'Besides, I paid for half and we'll both be highly insulted if you don't share.'

Paying for half that bottle would have cost Artan nearly a month's wages, and although it would have dented Sasha's cred balance a good bit less than his, it was still a significant sum for her.

'You're not leaving me with much of a choice are you?'

It wasn't much of a choice, all things considered. The offer of such a vintage as a gift was a ritual long cherished amongst the fleet crews. Refusing was a non-choice. They would break the seal and sit together until the bottle was empty. Sometimes there would be silence, sometimes stories, tears and laughter shared, but never words spoken in anger or regret. Tradition demanded it. And tradition was something that every member of the fleet respected.

'Not a one. I also had to cash in some favours with a friend of mine in Security to find out which lift you were on soo...'

'So, you could end up in holding and demoted if the XO finds out?'

It was a minor offence at best, one not likely to be actioned unless she herself filed an official complaint against the conduct. If he did get in trouble over the misdemeanour, it would be an overnight stay in the brig at worst, maybe a few days without pay and a week or two postponement on his next promotion.

'Ah, yes, so you should appreciate my sacrifice even more.'

Sasha sighed and shrugged her shoulders in a mixture of amusement and resignation. It wasn't the worst breach of protocol he had ever been involved in, but he tended to wear such acts as badges of honour. A curious position for a future member of the security forces, but he liked to pride himself on knowing the other side, as petty and privileged as his little misdemeanours might be.

'Got any glasses?'

'Back at mine?' Artan turned to leave, but stopped short when the other's didn't move.

Naomi raised an eyebrow at him and he flushed for an instant. Sasha stifled a giggle behind his back. They all knew about Artan's first attempt at flirtation with her, the one that had led to their initial friendship and brief relationship. She liked to remind him of his ham-handedness periodically.

Usually, after he put his foot in his mouth.

'Mine's on the way, I have to stop in and drop off a few things first.' Naomi tugged at her jacket's lapel and grimaced.

'I can see you laden down there alright.' Sasha grinned at Naomi, 'Need any help carrying those rank pins?'

'You expect me to get drunk in my dress uniform? I can barely sit down in this thing. Besides, I'll see your wine and raise you a bottle of Neo-Hibernian scotch. Your wine is pretty good, but if we're going to do this, we're going to do it right.'

'I won't touch the stuff below 15-years.' Artan waved the wine bottle in a dramatic circle over his head.

He was joking of course, the Neo-Hibernian ships were all, at a minimum, ten years distant, and that alone made their distillations expensive. Fifteen years of barrel ageing came at an even steeper price. Even at her pay scale, a bottle of that price would have set her back a month's wages.

She only smiled at him though.

'You'll be fine, I only have a thirty-six at home.'

Artan pulled up short as though someone had yanked on an invisible leash. At his pay grade, a fifteen was unaffordably expensive, thinking about a thirty-six made him choke.

'Naomi, what the hell? I'm not sure I can bring myself to drink that. I can't imagine how long I would have to work to pull together that many creds, never mind how drunk I would have to be to spend it all at once!'

'You can and you will Artan, and you will savour every drop. As for how I came by it, being the captain's daughter does have its perks...'

Naomi's last words hit her at the same time as her friends; everything suddenly crashing home between the three of them. They had never known another captain. Her father had been promoted to the position remarkably young, the youngest in the fleet's history, despite its vast size. Many of the more conservative captains, especially those outside of the Six-Month Admiralty, had chafed at the idea and objections and reservations had been lodged long after his appointment. He had been in office nearly twenty years before they had finally dried up.

That bottle of Neo-Hibernian scotch wasn't just thirty-six years old. That was just the time it had spent ageing in old-style wooden barrels. The bottle had been presented to her father on his appointment by the outgoing captain, as a sign of both support and friendship. Naomi's father had passed it on to her when she was chosen for the bridge. Now felt like the time to open it. In the company of friends. The last loved ones she had in the entire fleet. And in his memory.

'Things are going to change now, aren't they?' Artan was the first to break the silence.

'More than we think. More than we would want them too.'

Naomi wished she could tell them more. But there was no way she was going to drag them into danger. Not if she could handle things herself.

'Change sucks.' Sasha's nose scrunched up in disgust

'Yeah, it does.'

'Wine?' Artan held up the bottle, a dry smile forcing it's way across his face as he tried to lighten the mood.

'Yeah, let's go. I could do with a few.'