“Kill me.” Benson finished. He was laying on the floor in Neerson’s office, Martin seated in the chair across from the desk, and the Admiral seated with his fingers intertwined in front of his mouth.

“I sincerely hope that will not be the outcome.” Neerson said.

“Well shit, sir, me too.” Benson said, turning his head to look in Neersno’s direction. “I’ve thought a lot about how I’m gonna go but being torn apart at the molecular level has never exactly been at the top of the list.”

“That’s a theoretical outcome, though.” Martin said. “You said it’s theoretical.”

“I’m getting so sick of hearing that word.” Benson sighed, sitting up. “Yeah, Zig, but the whole fucking thing is theoretical. It shouldn’t exist, it shouldn’t be a thing, but there it is, staring at me every time I crawl through that damned… whatever hatch. I’m going to call it a cockpit for simplicity’s sake. I crawled past it a dozen times before I even noticed the thing, it’s about the size of a snuff can. Speaking of which, sir, you got any of that?”

Opening the top drawer of his desk Neerson flipped a circular can to Benson with a flick of his wrist. Benson caught it with a shocked look on his face. “No shit? I didn’t actually… damn sir, much obliged.”

Neerson nodded, seeming not to have broken his thought while Benson cut the seal with a thumbnail and packed the tobacco into his lower lip, laying back down and sighing in bliss. They were all silent for a moment before Martin cleared his throat. “Benson, you didn’t leave that thing with the Sergeants to accidentally turn on and kill us all, did you?”

“Sir.” Benson said with his eyes still closed. “How stupid to you actually think I am?”

“Just checking.” Martin said quickly.

Opening his eyes, Benson glared at him. “Theoretically,” He said in a mocking tone. “It might not be the type of thing that you turn on and off. Drake called it a perpetual energy source and that the theory is that once it's on, it's on. Something to tap into more than anything, you just need to know how to use it right.” He drew in a long, rattling breath. “The problem now is that we don’t even know how to use it wrong. In fact we don’t even know how to use it at all.”

“The Journeymen are quite sure of this?”

Benson sat up and pivoted on his backside to face Neerson. “Sir, please look at me.”

Neerson did.

“Sir, I have personally seen three,” Benson looked at the ceiling. “Four grown men legitimately shit themselves. Full on brown pants, poop in britches, so I want you to take me seriously when I thought I was going for a fifth when I asked Drake what it would take to get the thing to even give us something of a legitimate reading.”

“Most descriptive, Captain.” Neerson said dryly. “What did Journeyman Sanderson have to say on the subject?”

“She was all for turning the bitch on sir.”

Martin snorted, some of the drink he was taking coming out his nose. Neerson fixed him with a steely look as Martin dried his face.

“I’m so sorry, sir.” Martin said, suppressing a chortle. “It’s just, I could have told you that.”

“Is it a trait that all Ziggenbors possess to disregard the advice of experts and leap without being able to see the bottom.”

Martin collected himself. “Only two, sir. Natalie got that from Neil.”

“From everything I can see of Sergeant Ziggenbor he is well versed in the art of risk assessment and probable damage calculation.”

“He is sir. Way better than I am, but it makes him reckless. If he needs to jump, he’s confident in his ability to figure it out on the way down.”

Neerson nodded. “I see. Journeyman Sanderson shared this mindset?”

“She’s got all of our brains and a twice measure of our guts, sir, even though she doesn’t look like it. Yeah, she’s got the mindset to do what needs to be done and learn from the consequences later.”

“She would either make an excellent naval officer or a very, very poor one.” Neerson sat back in his chair. “Captain Benson. This antimatter propulsion device. How have you secured it?”

“I locked the door to the maintenance bay and told the Sergeants to stay out.”

“That’s all?”

“I didn’t have the time to take it out and I don’t know if I have the balls to try. I couldn’t fit the ship in my pocket to bring it with me, so I locked the door and told the Sergeants that bad things would happen if they went inside without me.”

“Did these bad things involve being killed horribly by a malfunctioning alien device?”

“Uh, actually I told them you would come shout at them, sir. I’m dead serious about that one. I also told them that in the small chance someone goes wandering through there to not let anyone but me in.”

At this, Neerson raised his eyebrows. “Indeed?” He rose abruptly. “Gentlemen, please accompany me.”

They did, and a few minutes later they were flying in silence from the Onslaught to wing Fox of the Vulcan. As soon as they docked, Neerson rose and turned to them. “Remain here, both of you. This is a direct order.” Then he walked down the boarding ramp and vanished into the flight simulation facility.

Martin looked at Benson. The Captain’s eyes were wide. “Fuck me.” He hissed. “Those poor sergeants.”

A moment later, Martin got it.

--

A door banged open, and the three sergeants turned to see Fleet Admiral Neerson on approach. “Group!” Bellowed Neil. “Atten-SHUN!”

“Carry on.” Neerson said, coming to a halt and surveying the frame with the progress of the sergeants’ work. “Sergeant Rivers, I was told that you are the one in charge of this current stage of the operation?”

“Yes sir.”Rivers said.

He beckoned, and Rivers loped around the ship to where the Admiral stood, coming to attention. “At ease, Sergeant. How is the fabrication of Captain Benson’s prototype coming?”

“As well as can be expected, given the standards we’ve been given to operate within, sir.”

“What conditions are those?”

“Captain Benson instructed us to work within our means, but not to compromise the project if we felt the actions exceeded our abilities.”

“Have you encountered any such complications?”

“The wings, sir, they’re more complex than any of us are used to working with. Most of our experience lies with grounded vehicles that are a little beefier and don’t require such a delicate touch.”

Neerson looked down at her for a moment. “A little beefier?”

“Stouter, sir. Um…” She thought. “They’re a little easier to make work by army methods.”

“As a naval officer I am somewhat unfamiliar with these methods. Please enlighten me.”

“The technical term is to use the careful application of kinetic energy in appropriate amounts in correlation to the problem at hand sir.”

Neerson mulled that over. “It’s a bit unwieldy for me, Sergeant. Could you use a less technical term?”

Rivers stiffened. “Sir?”

“The term.” He said, looking back to the ship. “It escapes my understanding, coming from a naval perspective. Please simplify it with a less technical term.”

“Blunt force trauma would apply here, sir.” Rivers said, her voice shaking.

Neerson turned on her, his tone taking on a cold, hard tone, like a block of ice. “If you would, Sergeant.” He said. “Less technical still.”

Rivers was trembling now, her face very white as she opened her mouth, looking for words that she couldn’t quite form.

“We will return to this subject.” Neerson said, walking to the door. “There is another maintenance bay where Captain Benson is performing diagnostics on another vessel. Take me to it.”

With a scared look on her face, Rivers led Neerson from the room and across the long hallway to where the maintenance bay was. The lights were off, and Rivers stopped at the door. To this, Neerson stood by, before giving Rivers an expectant look.

She looked from the door to the Admiral.

“Is there a problem, Sergeant?”

“No sir. Well, yes. Captain Benson told us not to let anyone in except for him.”

Closing his eyes, Neerson seemed to count his breaths. “Sergeant Rivers,” He said in a voice that betrayed the end of his patience. “In case you are unaware, I outrank Captain Benson by several orders of magnitude in both grade and position. Open this door.”

“With respect sir, I--”

“Very well.” Neerson’s voice snapped as he rounded on her. “Let us return to the matter of your maintenance of military equipment. I believe you were dumbing down the terminology for me to be able to understand.”

Rivers was trembling all over, though her gaze never wavered from the Admiral’s. He leaned in close to her. “Sergeant Rivers.” He said, voice barely above a whisper. “Answer my question.”

“We beat the shit out of things till it works. Sir.” Came a hard voice from behind the Admiral.

Neerson turned his head to look at Neil, who was standing shirtless and sweating from one half of his body. The other half was strained from the labor, the edges of his cybernetic limbs standing out faintly against his skin. His thick brows were furrowed, and his face was an angry, stubborn mask.

“I did not request your input on the situation, Sergeant Ziggenbor.” Neerson said in that same tone. “You will come to the position of attention and remain silent until I deem it is time to address you.”

“With respect sir, I won’t do anything of the goddamn sort until you stop bullying one of my people.”

Very, very slowly, Fleet Admiral Neerson turned to face Sergeant First Class Ziggenbor. There he stood for a long moment before taking a step forward. And another.

Neil stood by casually as the Admiral walked up to him. Neil was half a head shorter than Neerson, but even looking up into the face of the flag officer he didn’t blanch or break eye contact. Looking down at the Sergeant, Neerson was quiet for another moment before saying slowly, calmly. “Say again, Sergeant.”

Neil jerked his chin towards Rivers. “She’s one of mine, sir. That means if someone comes up on her and tries to give her shit, I can say something about it.”

“In point of fact, Sergeant Ziggenbor, you have no such authority.” Neerson almost snarled back. “I am a flag officer, a Fleet Admiral in the republic navy, and you--”

“Are standing in your fucking way.” Neil said back, crossing his arms.

They stared at each other for nearly a full minute, neither so much as blinking while they silently pitted their wills against each other, and the tension would have made any number of apex predators slink back into the shadows from whence they had come.

“You are in violation of a great number of military regulations, Sergeant.” Neerson said. “Shall I list them out for you?”

“Disobeying a direct order from an officer, disrespect of a superior, dereliction of duty, violation of standing order 13, obstruction of duty would be the top five, sir.” Neil snapped back, his tone as hard and ringing as the Admiral’s was cold and icy. “I’m sure there’s more. I don’t have the energy, but it doesn’t matter.”

“You would accept the full magnitude of punishment for these violations?”

“For one of my own?” Neil gave the Admiral a disgusted look. “Yeah, sir, I would.”

A whisper of a ghost would have sounded like a gunshot as the two resumed their silent face off. The Neerson’s eyes went over Neil’s shoulder. “Both of you are also in violation of orders.” Neerson said.

Neil turned to see Martin and Benson standing in the doorway, their eyes wide and jaws slack. Valentine had also followed from the bay, and looked like an animal readying himself for a fight.

Neerson turned back to Neil. “Your brother was quite right about you.” His voice had lost the dangerous, icy edge and had returned to normal. “I am not surprised by your reaction. But I appreciate it immensely.”

Straightening, Neil’s scowl darkened. “Sir?”

“Sergeants Valentine and Rivers, post!” Neerson barked, and the two sergeants came at once. “Sergeant Ziggenbor will be your acting First Sergeant moving forward.” Neerson said, looking at each of them in turn. “More of a technicality than anything, but there’s paperwork to see to, you’ll understand.”

“I don’t.” Neil said, pointing at Valentine. “He’s got way more time in grade than I do, sir. He should get the job.”

“Sergeant Valentine, do you take offense to this oversight in protocol?”

Valentine shook his head. “Hell no sir. I’m not the one that followed you out.”

“Well then,” Neerson turned back to Neil. “First Sergeant, I leave the personnel of Task Force Cerberus in your responsibility.” Then he turned.

“A test, sir?” Neil called after him. “You did all that just to see what I would do? Because in the future you can just sit down and talk to me instead of scaring one of my people shitless.”

Neerson stopped in his tracks and paused before saying. “You are correct on all accounts, First Sergeant. The past minutes I have been operating under false pretense.” He looked over his shoulder, and when Neil saw the Admiral’s eyes he felt a chill run through him that hadn’t been there even during the most intense moments of their quiet stand off. “It is a pretense I am no longer laboring under. Good evening, First Sergeant.”

Benson remained on the Vulcan while Martin and Neerson boarded the transport shuttle and made their way back to the Deterrence. As Neerson brought the shuttle into dock, Martin coughed. “Sir, may I speak?”

“I’ve never made objection to it before, Commander.”

“Yes sir. With respect, I…” His voice trailed off and Neerson turned in the seat. For the first time since Martin had seen him that day his face did not look drawn with thought. If anything, despite the almost perpetually turned down brows that made the Admiral look like he was always looking through a scowl, Neerson almost looked understanding. “If I might spare you, Commander. I assume you are either about to make a request of me to be careful about pushing First Sergeant Ziggenbor to the point of bitterness and anger, or he may resent my command.”

“His feelings run deep, sir.” Martin said. “And even when he forgives, he never, ever forgets.”

Neerson considered this before going on. “My other assumption was going to be that you were formulating the most respectful way to say ‘ease the fuck off my little brother, sir’.”

“I wasn’t formulating it very tactfully.” Martin said, unable to keep his voice from growing hard. “Sir.”

This, Neerson considered rather longer than he had the first time. “I see that he is not unique in the longevity of his memory when it comes to wrongs done unto him.”

“No sir. I forget the things done to me just fine.” Martin looked down. “Just not to him.”

“I see. Perhaps I was wrong in my actions. I will consider these things, Commander, and correct my conduct in the future.”

Martin rose and nodded. “With respect, sir, you should tell him that. I already know.”

Neerson nodded. “I will consider this too. But you were right about one thing, commander.”

“Sir?”

“He is indeed confident in his ability to figure things out on the way down.”