Home, sweet home. Or something like that.

We were on our last hyperspace-jump, back to the Celraph-System, home of the Third Starfleet-Academy and the regional Fleet-Headquarters, up on the orbital station. It had been an interesting trip, the information I had been taught in the classroom being tempered and tested by the reality of serving on a fleet-vessel, out in the deep dark.

The last week had been a mixed bag for me. On one hand, I had managed to get myself into the low mid-field of the Starfighter-squadron-ranking but on the other hand, my sleep during the off-shifts was often disturbed by Grace’s nightmares. While that part was something I could deal with, her increasingly escalating physical intimacy made me uncomfortable. At first, she had only sought out close physical contact when I woke her from a nightmare, or, at times, as a greeting but two days ago, she had brushed up to me when I came out of the shower. If the cruise weren’t almost over, I might have tried to address the problem but at the end of the day, I decided not to rock the boat, knowing that we’d be off the Merathorn soon.

“Cadet Horn, would you join me in my office?” Commodore Ryker asked when I came into the Starfighter-area for my last shift. I was quite curious what he had this time, so far, the conversations in his office had been enlightening and helped me a great deal.

Inside, he bade me to sit and, for the first time, didn’t sit himself, instead he walked to a small closet in the corner and fiddled with something inside for a moment before placing a steaming mug of coffee in front of me.

“Normally, I’d offer you a drink but regulations would frown at that.” he explained with a grin.

“Thank you, sir.” I replied, taking a sip and marvelling at the smooth, slightly earthy taste. It wasn’t quite how I took my coffee normally but I had a feeling I’d insult him if I asked for cream and sugar, so I stuck with the straight coffee. Luckily, it wasn’t the starfighter-fuel normally served or I might have had trouble.

“I wanted to go over your performance during your time on the Merathorn. While it is now too late to change anything, I thought it might help you going forward.” he explained and I sat up a little straighter, curious what he had to say. It nothing else, his evaluation would play a big role in my future, deciding where I’d be stationed after graduation.

“Don’t worry, we’ve had a lot of Cadets over the years, at least two every year, and you were amongst the top three of them. So, my evaluation will reflect that.” he assured me, causing me to smile with pride.

“But, as good a pilot as you are, there are other parts you can work on.” he continued, taking the wind out of my sails.

“Yes, Sir.” I acknowledged and, as I had come to expect from him, the critique that followed left no moment of my time on board untouched. I had a feeling that he had a lot of sources in the rest of the crew, especially amongst the enlisted, or he wouldn’t have been able to get such a comprehensive picture. It also made sure I understood one important thing, on a ship, nothing was truly a secret.

His main critique was that I wasn't a leader. In his opinion, I should have been able to do a lot more to lead and inspire the other cadets. He felt that I had the ability to lead, I was just not using it. Personally, I disagreed, leading people was just not something I was good at, I had never been able to form others into a cohesive unit like he or Commodore Ming did without apparent effort. While I had had little contact with Commodore Ming, I had a feeling that following her would be wise, that she had the strength to do whatever necessary. Commodore Ryker, on the other hand, gave me a different feeling, not one of strength but one of calm, experienced confidence tempered with a good deal of humour. It was just as strong and inspiring but different. And I knew that I wasn’t able to project either feeling, I simply wasn’t a good leader.

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Finally, after two refills of coffee and almost three hours of lecturing, Commodore Ryker stood, reaching out over his desk to shake my hand. Standing, I reached over and he gave me a strong handshake, before pulling his hand back and saluting me in a irregular gesture of respect.

“Just to make sure, despite the rather extended lecture you just received, both Commodore Ming and I would be pleased to welcome you into our Squadron as a regular pilot, once you graduated. That, too, will be included into our report as it is about the biggest endorsement possible. Cadet Horn, you are a good pilot and I truly hope to witness you turning into a great pilot and leader.” he stated, his calm voice filled with emotions.

“Thank you, Sir.” I managed to respond, pride and gratitude choking me a little.

“Just so you know, there won’t be any simulations today. By now, we should be in the Celraph-System, so there won’t be any surprises and, unless I don’t know my squadron, there will be a small get-together to send you off.” he said with a smile on his face.

“In fact, give me a moment.” he added, pulling out his tablet and typing something.

Merely seconds later, his tablet pinged in response and his grin widened, as he nodded to himself.

“Commodore Ming needs a little longer to wrap things up with Cadet Trezt. How do you feel about pranks?” he asked, his grin now very mischievous.

“Sir?” I asked, not sure what he had in mind, but somehow, the idea to prank the squadron, especially with the support of both Commodores, sounded like a fun thing to do. It also drove home just how unconventional their commanding-style was, I had never even heard of a commanding officer taking part in a prank, let alone coming up with one.

We chatted for a little longer, the Commodore giving me advice on things that commanding officers liked to see in a new pilots file. Some of it was obvious but a few things were news to me and I made sure to listen closely, even if I hoped that I would be assigned to Carmine-Squadron after graduation. Finally, the Commodore, who had been typing into his tablet from time to time, got another message, signaling that Commodore Ming was ready as well.

“Follow my lead, Cadet.” Commodore Ryker told me with a wide grin on his face, only to have that grin vanish and turn into a stern mask.

“Yes, Sir.” I grinned back, before suppressing the mirth I was feeling.

The Commodore let his door snap open and, before it was fully open, he started barking out orders for everyone to get into the Starfighters, just as the sirens in the Starfighter-area started to signal an alarm. The rest of the Carmines, all waiting with refreshments in the briefing-room suddenly switched from relaxed atmosphere to combat-readiness, dropping whatever they had in hand and starting towards their Starfighters.

Just as they were starting to move, the door of Commodore Ming’s office snapped open across the room and a furious looking Commodore Ming marched out, asking what was going on and ordering everyone to stand at attention. The switch from relaxed atmosphere to sudden rush of readiness to complete stillness at her barked order was a sight to behold. Part of me wondered if the infirmary would have to treat pilots for whiplash, especially when the next barked order from the Commodore was to have fun, or else. Part of me wished that I had an image-recorder in hand, just to safe the expressions on their faces but alas, I had not.

Once the others got over the shock of being pranked by command, the party began with quite a bit of laughter. While there was no alcohol, we were on duty after all, there were drinks, finger-food and good conversation. To everyone’s amusement, one of the Commodores had recorded the security-footage of the prank and put it onto the big screen, critiquing it as if it had been a combat-drill. It also highlighted the most amusing reactions, but it was all in good fun.

In the relaxed atmosphere, I realised why Commodore Ryker had always stressed that your comrades are the most important thing and to protect them. The Squadron felt like a family, even if it was a bit of a strange one, and I felt part of that family. I also knew that, while I wouldn’t continue flying with them, a part of me would remain part of the Squadron and I wouldn’t mind risking my life in combat if it meant to help them.