When I got back to the shuttle, Commander Siloh and Lieutenant Wirum were already there, waiting, while the rest was nowhere to be seen. I took a seat after a short greeting but after that, a short gesture from Commander Siloh made me remain quiet. I was still trying to figure out just what was going on, why an interview about an unknown ship attacking our starfighters and destroying human spacecrafts had focused so much on Commodore Ryker and his decisions and I was failing hard at that. It just didn’t make any sense to me unless there was some suspicion on Commodore Ryker, something I didn’t even want to consider. He had been diligent in training me, going above and beyond what was expected of him and for that, I was grateful, even if the previous week had been exhausting.

Not too long after I had returned, the remaining officers trickled in one after the other, all looking quite relieved. The last to return was the Commodore and his face was an unreadable mask. There was no conversation on the shuttle, other than a short confirmation that we were done at the station and would return to our original patrol-schedule.

Back on the Merathorn, I noticed that there was a small crack in Captain Burris’ indifferent mask and, as I was the last to disembark, coincidentally heard the Captain tell Commodore Ryker that he, Captain Burris, wanted to see both Commodores in his office, as soon as possible. While I was curious what that was about, there was no way to learn more without snooping and snooping in the office of the Master of the Ship was something too stupid to consider.

Still a little shaken, I retreated to the quietest place I had found on the Merathorn, maybe one of the quietest places in existence, the forward observation-deck. The room was normally kept in darkness, just two small lights next to the door, guiding people back out and allowed a tremendous view of the stars. Sadly, we were turned towards the primary, bathing the room in yellow-white light, reminding me a little of back home. The light was different, partially because the atmosphere of Cornucopia 3 had different filtering-properties compared to the window of the observation-deck, partially because the star I didn’t know the name of might have a different radiation-spectrum. But it was still familiar enough to make me smile and yearn to strip off my ship-suit to feel the sun on my skin. The idea was funny enough to make me smile, despite the previous weirdness.

As I was standing there, I was trying to actually see other man-made spacecrafts and was once again reminded just how vast the distances out here were. I was able to see the planet Fleet-Station Calmaru was orbiting, a mostly blue marble with the telltale clouds and green blotches hinting at a living world, similar to my home planet.

Curious, I pulled out my tablet to search the databases for the planet’s name and a few basic information but as I did, I noticed that I had received a message from Commander Siloh, asking if I was alright. It was a kind gesture, one that I wouldn’t have expected from a normal superior officer but for Wildcat, the woman who had turned into a friend during the last week of hell, it was quite in character. Not wanting her to worry, I sent a message back, telling her that I was alright and currently watching the stars go by. With that out of the way, I pulled up the database and looked for information about the distant planet.

What I found wasn’t terribly surprising, even if I had to laugh a little. The planet was cursed with the incredibly unimaginative name “Breadbasket” and it was, quite frankly, aptly named. Humanity had found it at just the right time in its development, when life was just seriously getting started, allowing us to interfere at an unprecedented scale, importing the plants we wanted, allowing them to spread with little interference from the local ecosystem. That said ecosystem was almost totally out-competed by the specimen humanity carefully seeded where they would thrive, that was just too bad for that primitive life, for us, it meant that the whole planet was essentially one giant farm, administered by one of the mega-corporations. At least that was what I could glean from a cursory search, without spending too much time digging into things.

Before I could even consider doing that, the sturdy door opened and Commander Siloh entered.

“Twitch, there you are.” she said, approaching me with a worried smile on her face. “I know you said that you are alright but I know that interviews by Naval Intelligence can get under one’s skin, especially if they pull in resources from Federation Security and even Psi-Com.” she explained, concern in her voice.

And I had to admit, it felt good that she cared, the confirmation that I wasn’t the only one who was affected by interrogation helped lessen the impact.

“Yes, I think I am alright. But I’m confused what they were after, while they were interested in the mission itself, their questions were all about Commodore Ryker and his behaviour during the mission. Who am I to judge the behaviour and command-decisions of a Commodore who has been flying Starfighters for longer than I’ve been alive?!” My worries burst out of me, especially the strange feeling that came from questioning my line-of-command. I had to trust my superior officers, especially a tactical leader like Commodore Ryker and Commodore Ming that they knew what they were doing, that, even if I might be unable to see the purpose of a given command, it was important to follow it. That was the whole point of a line of command, that I followed my orders without needing additional time to question them. I didn’t need to obey blindly but I needed to follow orders, or discipline would break down. The interview questioned that certainty, the security that my superiors knew what they were doing.

“They have our sensor-logs, so questions about what we’ve actually seen can be better answered that way.” Wildcat began, causing me to laugh, remembering the strange question from the interviewing officer about visual information not gathered with the sensors.

When I relayed that question, after she asked why I was laughing, she joined in the laughter. “Ah, yes, a truly exceptional officer, putting the Intelligence in Naval Intelligence. Sadly, for some of them, what they know about Starfighter-operations comes from popular media and both of us know just how far from the truth that can be.” Wildcat explained, still chuckling.

“What, you don’t rescue corporate heirs, cheated by unscrupulous business-partners out of their inheritance, getting into shootouts with goons before jumping into an improbably large Starfighter, carrying the heir to safety while falling in love to a backdrop of glittering stars?” I asked, remembering one particularly insipid plot-line.

“No, no, we don’t. Well, at least I’ve never been in that situation.” she stated, shaking her head as if she was sad about the drama she had been deprived off.

“I wouldn’t even know where to begin saving some heir, I don’t even carry a gun with me. If I need to fight, I’ve got two plasma-cannons on my Starfighter, no need for a pistol.” I continued, causing her to raise an eyebrow.

“Hm, you don’t have a gun?” she paused for a second, considering, “Interesting, we might have to do something about that. Remember the drills last week? I bet you’d wish to have a personal weapon stashed away somewhere, just in case.” she explained, the amusement mostly gone from her voice.

“Seriously?” I asked, not sure if she was still joking.

“Yes, seriously. Always watch your wingman's back, that’s not only for out there. And it’s not only your wingman’s back, you watch your wingman first, your squad-mates second and the crew of your carrier third. Every other officer and enlisted is your brother in arms and you watch their back and they watch your back in turn.” she told me, her voice serious as if she was reciting a creed or oath. I could hear that she meant every word she said, that she was speaking from her deepest conviction.

“I…” I paused, not quite sure what to make of it. “I will keep that in mind.” I finished, partially reassured at the obvious strength of her conviction but also a little scared that she expected me to share it.

“Good. If that is the only thing you’ve learned on your summer cruise, the time we spent in the simulator with you will have been well worth it.” she nodded, reaching out and giving my shoulder a short squeeze.

“You might want to get some sleep, we’ll be leaving the system soon and then it’s back to the usual shifts. We’ll have to see if the training regimen continues, but I wouldn’t bet against it. The Commodores have been seriously spooked by that ghost-ship.” Wildcat said, before giving my shoulder another squeeze and turning to leave, leaving me behind feeling better than earlier but just as confused, even if for slightly different reasons.