The last meal Tiamat ever cooked for me turned out to be chicken croquettes and whipped potatoes, both drowning in thick brown gravy. I had no idea about that at the time, but the upcoming unprotected sleep scared me. I savored the crisp coating on the croquettes, barely softened by the steaming, savory gravy. The whipped potatoes soaked up the gravy and butter, thinning as they did, but I didn't care. A small basket of biscuits completed the meal, and I used them to mop up the last of the now soupy potatoes.

"Good Morning, Cadet Captain." Guy slid into the seat across from me. He flipped something pale green into the air between us, and I caught it without thinking.

I looked at the irregular spheroid he'd thrown me; a firm, cool apple, light green and as big around as my clenched fist. "Where did you get this?"

He shrugged. "They were on the counter at the buffet. Tiamat mentioned you'd come in before she set them out. I figured you'd want one."

I stared at the apple, wondering what prompted this. Ships never had enough fresh, raw fruit to go around. Each ship had a small botanical garden, usually in the innermost sections of the ship just outside the drive area, but tapping into that stock required a special occasion. I couldn't think of one that happened this time of year. Founding wasn't for another six months, religious holidays didn't count, and the Captain's birthday celebration happened just before I got to the ship.

Guy suffered no such existential qualms. He bit into his with a crunch, the juice dribbling down his chin. He caught it with a napkin before it hit his uniform, but only just. He grinned at me, and I made the mistake of looking at his eyes to grin back. They drew me, fiery flecks burning bright against a cinnamon brown backdrop. Memories piled up behind my eyes, the only thing saving me from total immersion the sheer number of the things. Faces seeped over Guy's, but before it could finish lights blinkned in both corners of my eyes.

The sheer novelty of the lights shocked me out of my unwanted reverie, and a wash of fury rushed through me. I didn't have time for this right now. My morning classes I could get out of by citing Doctor Andrews' orders to get some sleep, but the Captain had my second ATT session on the schedule for this afternoon. I would rather cut my own arm off than miss that.

Of course that thought brought yet another sensation forward to clamor for my attention. An unseen pincer sheared through my shoulder, slicing my arm free, socket and all. The incongruous pink strobe light flashed in the corner of my vision. I ignored the distinctly unpleasant sensation of hot, damp air flowing into my chest from the side and focused on that light.

I do not have time for this!

"Whoa. Sorry. Thought you'd like some of the fresh fruit Tiamat gave us for your birthday. I'll see you in class." With that he flicked his apple core away and walked out the door. My gaze tracked the apple as it described a flat arc to the nearest disposal unit.

I didn't think about what he'd said until the door slid shut. My birthday. I'd forgotten completely. I should have been celebrating, graduating to Senior, speaking with my essie...

My essie! In every case I'd heard of, an essie initiated contact. If young humans were eager to speak to their essie, by the age of sixteen an essie was desperate to contact its human. Of course, between Doc Andrews, my... father, and my... Grace all meddling in my head, my essie might not feel entirely sanguine about first contact.

Hello? Essie?

My tentative thought got no response. I stared at the apple in my hand, pale green rather than the red and gold ones I remembered from Glaucus. I wondered idly if it tasted different, or if the color was as superficial as the difference between the red apples and the golden ones. If they were going to contact me, they would have done so by now.

"Hello? Essie?"

A few Middies, shoveling down a hearty breakfast before a day full of classes, turned to look at the madwoman talking to herself in their midst. A few of them realized what I was doing, made the connection, and their expressions melted into a mixture of envy on a few and mild disdain on the rest. I sorted them mentally and came up with an answer to the dichotomy; all the envious ones were Noobs, unable to contact their own essies.

I didn't understand the disdain at first. Back in the Outer Rim fleet, verbal essie commands were fairly common, and I'd heard muttered, one sided conversations between instructors and their essies every day of my life up until now. Even the Retread Middies tossed off instructions now and then, although most of the time they let their essies work on plans for their eventual augmentations. After a few moments' thought, I realized I hadn't heard either of those since I'd arrived.

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I sighed, my head hanging. I didn't need yet another reason for the other Middies to avoid me. Still, it might be for the best. As Cadet Captain, I couldn't play favorites, and if I never made friends because everyone avoided me, no one could accuse me of favoring anyone.

Right in the middle of my culturally mandated bout of teenaged self-pity, two Cadets stepped up to the table across from me.

"Sir, do you mind if we join you?" Ross' question cut through my moping, forcing me to square my shoulders and act, for the moment, like a Cadet Captain rather than an angsty teenager.

"Certainly, Cadets." Ross sat down and slid sideways to make room for Carver.

Carver started to speak twice, but stopped before saying anything. I raised an eyebrow, and he blushed and dug into his food. Ross glanced at him, rolled his eyes, and started slicing his pancakes. While I ate, I'd forgotten most of the ship would just be getting up around now. I didn't regret my choice of croquettes, but the scent of butter and syrup wafting across the table made me wish I had Carver's appetite. His tray carried three plates, one stacked with pancakes, another with croquettes atop a pile of whipped potatoes, and a third with a stack of sausages. He at his way through those methodically, avoiding my eyes the entire time.

After a few bites, Ross set his fork down. "What this walking tank wanted to ask was if you've got any plans after class today."

I turned my gaze back to Carver. He blushed, but nodded around another sausage, chewing and swallowing so quickly I worried for a moment about him choking himself. "Yeah. Sir."

I quirked one side of my mouth into a half-smile, noting his belated honorific without saying anything I might have to note in his record. To buy time, I took a bite of my apple, closing my eyes to focus on the flavor. My eyes shot back open as the acidic tang of the fruit took me by surprise. The initial tartness faded into a sweet finish.

"Tiamat, what type of apples are these?"

"Granny Smith, Dustie. I take it you like them?"

"Yes, thank you."

"Happy Birthday."

"Thanks again, Tiamat." I turned to my two Cadets. At the sight of them a faint thrill raced through me, a remnant of the game the day before. I was pretty sure I could get Quick to play again, and even if the four of us couldn't get Frost, after our victory yesterday we could easily get a fifth to replace him if we had to. I smiled at them, hoping I hadn't put them off too badly by making them wait while I spoke with the ship.

"I think I can get free if you're both available."

Ross choked on a mouthful of pancake. Carver stared at me, his mouth dropping open. He still missed with the next sausage, nearly shoving it up his nose before he caught himself. He glanced at Ross, then back at me, then back to Ross. Ross, for his part, was trying to swallow his pancake with the aid of half his glass of milk.

I stared at the pair of them, wondering why two previously sane cadets had suddenly gone crazy. The longer I stared, the redder Carver got. Ross carefully avoided his gaze, focused now on his pancakes. After a few moments, Tiamat's cooking got the better of him and he let himself be drawn fully into appreciating fluffy, buttery, syrupy goodness.

"Uh, Ross?"

Ross nearly choked again, and he shook his head before he finished swallowing.

"Sorry, buddy. I put my neck out to ask for you. Wingman's as far as I go." With that, he grabbed his plate, stood, and nodded to me. "Sir?"

I frowned, wondering why he'd taken so much food if he needed to leave so soon. "Have a good day, Ross. Perhaps I'll see you up in the bay later."

He nodded again, his hands full of plate and silverware, turned, and walked away looking for another seat. He wasn't done eating yet. He'd left me alone at the table with Carver. The clue circling the table for so long finally came to rest in my previously empty skull. Shock made me blurt out the first words into my head.

"Carver, are you asking me out?"

He looked down at his sausages and mumbled something.

"Carver, I'm not offended by you asking, but I am offended by you mumbling. Answer me clearly."

He looked up without raising his head at all. "Yes, Sir."

This time it was my turn to stare at my plate. Unfortunately, I had no more food to use as an excuse for stalling. Well, I still had my apple, but I wasn't about to waste that.

"I'm sorry, Carver. I don't think it would be appropriate."

His gaze dropped back down to his food. After a moment he slid out of the seat across from me and lifted his tray. He nearly turned to go without even a perfunctory 'Sir' to request dismissal, and I could tell it wasn't from any desire to be insubordinate. I bounced to my feet, the motion bringing him to a halt before he completed his turn.

"Don't take it the wrong way, Carver. I appreciate the offer. So far you're the only one with the nerve to ask." His eyes went a little wide at that, and I smiled at his disbelief. "Maybe once we're both Seniors." He wasn't totally unappealing, and no one else had gotten up the nerve to ask. I reached out and set the rest of my apple on one unoccupied corner of his tray. "Consolation prize. Not much, I know, but it's all I've got at the moment."

He smiled back at me, not happy, but soothed enough to hide his hurt. "Hey, an apple is an apple. Better an apple in the hand than... uh..." His abortive witticism petered off under the weight of my raised eyebrow. "Captain?"

"Carry on, Cadet. I'll see you up in the bay next time you're up for a game."

With that I turned and left the mess. I still had a nap to take. Doctor's orders.