"I need a vacation, Eva," complains Yosip. He hates being in the med bay as much as I dislike being hooked up to the terminal I currently inhabit.

"You're entitled to one," she replies. The screen shows a harried young officer, tired but managing to perform her duties. Eva looks off camera for a moment before returning her attention to Yosip. "I have to go, the refrigeration units are shorting out and we're depending upon that meat to make it through to the next resupply."

"Alright. We'll be there by the time your shift is over, I hope."

"Maybe, but you'll be going straight to Pale," she states brusquely. "This is my problem until they release you."

Yosip snorts, then nods his head after a calming breath. They end the call, and the screen returns to my control.

Tonn Rojer returns from the hallway, where he had tactfully retreated during the private conversation. "It really is good to see your ugly face, Yosip."

"Wish I could say the same thing," Yosip replies with a crooked smirk. "I'm never in here for something pleasant."

"Jim wanted me to repeat that he's sorry for blowing you up," Tonn says for perhaps the twelfth time since Yosip has been under his care.

"Yeah, I know. I said I forgive you all," grunts the Supply-Master. "You were after Togra Vesk. I found him first, is all. Your scanners only showed one life sign because there was only one left."

"I'm sorry you had to do it," mutters Tonn.

"Me too," answers Yosip. "The Vesks were the least odious of the lot, and always treated my family well. He should have stayed with Lendi."

"It never was in Togra's nature to take orders," says Jim Tollek as he walks into the, now quite packed, med bay. "He had to be in charge or he wasn't satisfied."

"Tonn told me you had the intel," ventures Yosip, "but he never said where you got it from. Care to fill me in?"

"No problem there," replies Ship-Father Tollek. "We came across more of these vessels, under Navy influence, while looking for the death world. There was no factory world, but something worse. The Coalition bastards had set up a base and made alliance with some weird group of alien monsters. The Resurgence took a mighty beating before we took down the remnant they'd left behind as a home guard."

"Spent the last thirty days limping back to friendly territory," adds Tonn. "If we were at full crew we would be having mountain stew the last few meals."

"Mountain stew?" I'm not familiar with that term.

"Means eating the first to fall," answers Jim. "After the famous ship crash-landed in the Frosen Peaks. What was that ship called?"

I expect to hear Gelly's mangled speech patterns, but it is Tonn that answers the Ship-Father. "The Ruinous. Crew of fifty-five. Half survived the crash, half of those were still alive when the rescue ships found them."

"Nasty business," concludes Jim. "From the early days of the Coalition. Back when the blue scales kept everyone honest."

"You sound like a bunch of retired old soldiers sitting around, complaining that the current generation have it too easy," I tease, knowing I'm older than the lot of them.

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"Some of us haven't had it so easy," grouses Yosip from the medical cot. "So leave us wounded veterans to our commiserating, please."

"Ha! He told you where you could put it, Mos," exclaims Jim.

"Please my missing tentacles. You'll be back to duty again in no time, Yosip."

His frown intensifies. What did I say?

"Let's not excite my patient," Tonn interjects, suing for peace. "We've all had a rough time lately."

We pass some time with idle chat, waiting for the ship's turn to dock at Kalibern. For whatever reason, Ship-Father Tollek doesn't wish to connect me to his ship during the journey. Instead, he opts for the mobile comm terminal to which I am now connected.

I get to feel like one of the crew. For the first time since joining these people I have my own distinct body within the ship, limited though it is in mobility and function. It also seems to relieve some of the anxieties the crew generally hold when addressing my disembodied self.

Duty calls Jim once more to the command station after a while. His departure seems to act as a silent signal. Shortly after the Ship-Father returns to his command chair, Bella stops in to visit. Behind her is our rescuer himself.

"Good to see you, Uhgun," I exclaim. Even Yosip smiles when he sees our visitors. "Bella, always a pleasure. Thank you both for your assistance."

"We couldn't leave you out there, after that Eva gave us a verbal beating. How were we to know you two were on that ship?"

"No one blames you, Bella," Yosip says.

She ignores his attempt to console her. It's true, though. Neither of us blame them for their actions. If we were acting with the information they possessed, we would have made the same choices. They couldn't give their position away before they attacked by contacting the station for more information. They had to act with what they knew before the unexplained opportunity slipped away.

"What made you think to try smugglers' code, of all things?" Bella slaps Yosip on his shoulder as she asks, which he in turn ignores.

"Seeing Vesk made me remember playing as a kid, and listening to his stories of catching smugglers for the Navy during his youth." Bella rubs her sore hand, glaring at Yosip while he pauses to collect his thoughts. "He taught us the code as one of the games, hide the candlefruit."

A few more pleasantries pass between us before they too must return to their duties. We aren't left alone for long, as a procession of long absent faces come to give their greetings to the recovering hero. Yosip bears the attention better than I would expect, though even he has his limits.

He squirms uncomfortably under the praise, though he deserves every bit of it and more. A small pile of gifts and offerings accumulates next to his cot. The last many of them knew, Yosip had died on the lone planet of this system seasons ago. The fact that not only had he survived that but also disabled the enemy fleet armed only with a mask and my self was nothing short of wondrous to them.

Tonn chases the last visitor away, a freshly recruited male that had never even met Yosip before this day. The youth had come to bask in the waters of Yosip's glory, and the worshipful way in which he gazed at the older officer was the last that Yosip could tolerate.

When it's our turn at the docking tower, Tonn transfers Yosip to a wheeled gurney. Myself they simply remove from the makeshift coupling attached to the comm terminal. I'm handed to the Supply-Master to hold during the short trip to the station. Yosip's young admirer follows to carry all the presents, despite Tonn's protests.

We're met at the docking tower by Zra. The two medical professionals eye each other with professional disdain during the transfer before laughing at some indecipherable bit of office humor like old friends.

Until they return me to my place in the war room, I cannot understand the banter that the others trade, but I imagine that there is much good-natured teasing of our Supply-Master. My guess is supported by the numerous almost smiles I catch him hiding behind fierce scowls.

We exit the tower and enter the station proper, only to be met by a crowd that fills every available ubit of space. Tserri and Selber, crew and residents and even nomads from Gelen's fleet. Everyone that could be here has decided to come and give Yosip the greeting he deserves. The overpowering sound is enough to set me to vibrating in the Supply-Master's hands.

After the noise, the first thing that I notice is that the usually flamboyant dressing crowds are today dressed in the more somber colors associated with the Selberfeld Imperium. A beach of black cloth upon which golden waves of thread dance to the crowd's undulations stands before us, cheering for their leader and hero. Their hands and claws are painted silver, or they wear gray gloves to emulate his metal appendages.

Oddly, many of them are also wearing small round patches upon their chests or hanging from cords tied around their necks. Orange patches.

He smirks as he holds me above his head in one hand. The crowd cheers when he does so, clasping their own orange circles as they scream in delight.