I took a deep breath, paused, then open fired on the target down range. I worked through ten shots at a staggered pace, ensuring that I reset my position after each shot for maximum accuracy. After the last shot, I held my shooting position then depressed the firing stud again but this time, I saw a red light on the backend mini screen of the gun. It was also showing a zero on the counter.

“Empty!” I said in a loud voice.

“Clear your weapon” my instructor commanded from behind me. I tried firing on the target again to double check the charge count and got a reassuring red light again. I pressed the safety stud then the held the power button. The soft light emanating from the screen went away as the gun shut down. I ejected the power cell and placed in on the table in front of me. I ensured that weapon was fully offline then moved it a bit to the side so that my instructor could see it. He briefly inspected the sidearm then gave me the clear. I deposited the gun on top of the table and removed my glasses. I turned to face T as he enlarged the screen on the shooting stall for us to peruse.

“So, how’d I do?”

“Well, you’re not…horrible.” He mumbled. I looked at my shots and was happy to see them.

“It’s much better than last time, though.”

“Yes, it’s better. You actually hit the target area consistently this time. Maaan, I’ve never seen a shooter so bad. At first, I thought you were messing with me.” T was tracing my shot grouping on the screen. All of them were center mass which means in my case is that I actually hit a target as big as Titus.

“I told you, didn’t I? I’ve never fired these things before.” I gestured at the deactivated weapon on the table. For my introduction to firearms, T selected for me a PDF23 sidearm. It’s the most renowned energy weapon in modern human history. Its earlier iteration has been used as a model of freedom and defiance. Wars have been won and lost with this weapon. It is also one of the weapons available for civilian ownership.

The PDF23 is a light, stubby, pistol that has a sloping top backend. Unlike regular firearms, the PDF23 looks like a hairbrush on steroids. The backend has three studs placed below a small screen that are color coded to easily discern the function of each stud. The screen shows the charge count and the firing mode of the gun. It has a selector which you can toggle so you can choose between stun and kill. It’s so easy to use that it’s basically idiot proof. It even shows you a small graphic if you’re so stupid you can’t distinguish what the buttons do.

T had me pick up the weapon and started drilling me on how to improve my form. My biggest problem is that when I shoot, I jab with the gun. I’ve no idea why I do that but it’s messing up my aim. T said it looks like I was trying to stab somebody from across the room. We worked on it for half an hour then had to stop since we have to work on dinner. I returned the pistol and the box of energy cells the armorer lent me.

The armorer is a surly middle-aged man who rarely speaks. He’s like a Barral that answers with grunts and snorts. I had to have Franny order him to lend me a gun because he didn’t want to give me one. He grudgingly allowed me access to a single sidearm but was very clear that I would not be able to take it out of the armory until he was satisfied that I was competent with it. T promised to work with me on that.

We left the armory and started walking back to the galley.

“What do you think? How long do you think before I get my gun?” I haven’t expected it but the gun felt good in my hands and I had a great time plinking away with it.

T frowned and considered it for a moment.

“I dunno man, you follow instructions good but your body wants to do something else. You’re gonna have to work on muscle memory. You’re twitching in all the wrong places. Maybe you should get a sword instead?” A speculative look appeared on his face but he quickly dismissed the idea with a quick shake of his head. I gave him a raised eyebrow

“Dude, I’m not planning on stabbing anybody soon. I don’t WANT to be in a fight anytime soon. If there comes a time where I would have to defend myself or this ship, then we’re screwed.”

“True that. Well, you’re trying at least. In a couple of weeks, maybe? I really dunno. You kinda suck man, and I mean, you suck hard. I mean that in the most non-pleasurable way.”

“Ouch. There goes my dream of being a gunslinger. Anyway, I have all the time in the world to practice. I’ll eventually get it.” I said with confidence. We entered the galley’s door with T leading the way. He stopped and turned back to face me. He has that sorry-I-forgot look on his face that instantly got me concerned.

“What?”

“About the shooting thing, sorry I forgot, man. You’ll need to get evaluated on that. There is a test new recruits have to pass to qualify for a firearm. It’s necessary if you want to be able to take a gun outside the firing range. There’s also a minimum expected performance score that you have to achieve if you want to stay in the Red Tiger Mercenaries outfit. We’re not just a group of guys that decided they want to get paid for shooting shit up. We’re premium service, man. Your test will be the week after the next. Don’t worry, I’ll get you ready for that.” T gave my shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

“Really? You're telling me that now?” I demanded.

“Like I said, I forgot. Don’t get your panties in a bunch. You’ll do just fine.” T grabbed a fresh apron and proceeded to wash his hands. I decided to focus on my current job and leave that concern for later. Though I was accepted in the ranks of the merc company, I understood that if I want to be respected as a member of the crew and not just some privileged ass that the admiral took a shine to, I would have to work on my evaluation scores. I decided to do what Titus just said. I stopped worrying about it. I grabbed an apron and joined the rest of the kitchen crew.

Dinner preparation went smoothly and I was back behind the serving counter pouring mushroom soup in bowls. We managed to make some toasted garlic bread to go with the soup. It was rather labor intensive so they were not able to make some that would fit the cooking schedule before I joined the team.

I just placed a bowl on tray in front of me when the owner of the tray addressed me.

“Hey handsome.”

I looked up from staring at the soup warmer and saw Nabila standing in front of me. She has a big smile on her face and gave me a wink as soon as I made eye contact.

“Oh, hey! Hello, officer. How are you doing?” She was the last one I was expecting to see. I’ve been so busy working the galley and meeting new people that I completely forgot the CPM officer. Her face also reminded me of the injured Robert and was about to ask when I saw the next person in line was the now healed augment. He looked a bit haggard but he was standing tall and firm.

“We’re doing just fine. Robert got released earlier today. It was touch and go there for a moment. Good thing this ship has a fully equipment medical ward. They even have regen beds like the one you used before.” She explained. I placed some baked spiced potatoes on a plate with a quarter cut of roast chicken. This would be the third to the last time we would be able to serve some chicken until we get resupplied. The plate of food joined the soup I placed on her tray.

“That’s good to hear. Hi, Robert! Great to see you up.” I waved at the man with my soup ladle. He gave me a wan smile as he took his place at the front of the line. Nabila was already off to the side impatiently waiting for her partner. She was practically drooling over her potatoes.

“It is not an experience I would like to repeat, Mr. Mayon. Though we officers are acquainted with the idea of death, it is not something we look forward too.” He was not trying to show his weakness but his movement is a lot less crisp than I remember them.

“Are you supposed to be out of the infirmary? To be honest, you don’t look like you’re fully recovered.”

“I’m able. I just need some time to fully recover. At the moment, I am completely functional.” His augmented parts are doing well as he said but I suspect that his squishy parts still needs a day or two. Modern medicine is great and all but it’s not magic.

“Hey, can we talk with you? It’s important.” Nabila butted in after Ronald got his now loaded tray back. I checked with Franny who was assembling some ingredients for a good, old-fashioned apple pie and she waved back. I took off my apron and assigned and servidrone to take my place. I joined the two officers at their table. They chose a smaller one near the back of the galley to give them a modicum of privacy if such a thing is possible in a crowded room. I parked my butt on a seat beside Nabila. Robert got a mug of coffee and before I could warn him, he has already taken a sip. He froze as then slightly angled the mug to get a good look at the contents. I could see his optics focusing on the coffee.

“This is…interesting. Is this normal?” He asked as he placed his mug of coffee on the table.

“Apparently it is. I’m gonna talk to Franny about it. It’s the foulest thing I’ve ever swallowed.”

“Check with the crew first. They might have a different opinion.” Ronald picked up his fork and started on his chicken. Nabila had already consumed her bread. She grabbed the soup bowl and lifted it up to her lips and proceeded to take large sips.

“So, what’s up?” I got to the point since I still have work to do. Ronald nodded to Nabila as she wiped her mouth with a serviette. The galley found it cheaper to just have a bunch of those and just wash them rather than buying paper ones that you throw away after use.

“I got into talks with the Ceres government while Ronald was on the mend. The government is not happy with you being here. They want to take you in for questioning but understand that they can’t ensure your safety or the other people that could potentially be collateral damage from a suicide bomber especially now that there are tons of visitors for the GFRL finals. The admiral is also not keen on releasing you from service and had to remind the Ceres government about the agreement between the galactic council and licensed members of the mercenary guild. The Red Tiger Mercenaries laid claim to you before a bulletin was issued for your questioning." Nabila stopped so she could get a big bite of her chicken. The woman could surely eat.

"Ronald and I are going back after dinner. We came by to tell you that CPM still wants to talk to you so expect a visit from some of our officers sometime soon when the mess in Illustratum has been cleaned up. We have to report back to work. From what I'm getting, the police is getting swamped."

"It would take some time to unearth hidden slave soldiers but we'll get them all." Ronald added. He was eating slower compared to his ravenous partner but he was also making quick work of it.

“If they want to talk to me, I’m all ears. It’s not like I could go somewhere. I’m stuck here for the moment. Work here is a lot better than I thought it would be and despite it being in a warship, mercenaries still need to eat.”

“Good for you. Who knows, you might grow the like the experience.” Nabila winked at me.

“Oh, it’s growing on me already. The kitchen crew is great. It’s tiring work, cooking for a thousand souls on the daily, but rewarding.”

We moved on to talking about trivialities as both Nabila and Ronald polished off their meal. Nabila had a forlorn look on her face when she looked back at her now empty tray. The large woman probably eats a lot to maintain the kind of muscle mass her impressive physique has. I walked with them as they deposited their used cutlery in the collector then said my goodbyes. I gave Ronald a firm handshake and a sincere thank you for saving us back in the restaurant during the attack. If it wasn’t for him, some of us probably wouldn’t have made it. He pointed at a small stud protruding behind his left ear. He explained that it was a military-grade energy scanner. It picks up on active weapons within a certain radius. It was one of his favorite tools as a CPM officer. That split second knowledge of the possibility of being in a gunfight gives him the advantage of initial action rather than reaction. Combined with his augmented speed, few people can get the drop on him. Nabila gave me a crushing hug and told me to keep in contact if possible. The blonde Nord made me promise to make her some steaks on the off chance we meet again.

I watched them leave then took back my station from behind the counter. The second batch of diners was already lining up. I went back to filling bowls with mushroom soup.

The next couple of days mirrored the rest with few variations. I wake up, work the galley, have classes with Franny on my other job, go to the range for shooting practice, then end my day after dinner. I tend to have longer work hours compared to the others because of all the things I have to catch up on. Franny’s classes moved on to teaching me how to weld patches, how to use a cutting torch, how to properly arm and deploy a fire suppressor grenade and the manual suppressor unit I would be carrying around, and a bevy of other things. Most interesting for me was her instructions on how to transport injured personnel. I was pleased to know that if I pass my evaluation test, they would add a responder certification to my I.D. registry. If cooking doesn’t pan out, I could work as a relief officer for NGOs or as a safety officer for companies.

T’s lessons on dispensing death at a range was doing less than satisfactory. I was improving, just not as much as we hoped. I was not a natural with a firearm. I have to constantly remind myself of the proper steps before firing on a target. I was slow and inaccurate compared to the mercs and I still keep of freakin’ stabbing with the gun when my concentration slips. T was still optimistic that I would learn enough in time to pass my test and I tried to think positively but deep down inside, I was depressed with how much I suck at it.

I started roaming around the different areas of the ship I have access to during my off time. It’s both to familiarize myself of my new home and to satisfy my curiosity. I found the crew bar a deck down and it looked like a dive you’ll find in any station. It even has a name above the door in neon lights. ‘Punch Drunk’ serves different kinds of alcohol that can either be bought through creds or salary deductions. It was only available to crewmen and women after shift. I normally pay a visit for a bottle of beer when I’m done for the day. It was a fun place with loud music even if the bar is small and can accommodate only a few dozens at best. I got to know the barman, Gar, an older Barral who decided that being a barman is better than being stuck planetside. He loves the idea of traveling and was a former Merc himself. He’s too old to run around and his shell was not as strong anymore. He petitioned for the admiral to allocate him some space to provide entertainment for the crew. It was not a hard decision since a warship like the Woglinde would sometimes be in transit for extended periods of time. The crew needs a place where they could wind down and just have a good time. The bar regularly show competitive games on its multiple screens so bar crawlers have something to shout at when getting blind drunk.

I also made a couple of tentative friendships and people were starting to warm up to me. Part of that is because the food quality of the dirty galley is better. Having a great meal after doing some hard work always do wonders for your mood. There was even some talk among the crew to donate some creds to our budget so that we could afford more and better ingredients. That is a common practice among officers and the crew thought that they wouldn’t mind eating fancy sometimes.

It was the eighth day since I started working on the ship and we were busily preparing dinner and something for midnight rations. We generally cook something easy and have the servidrone keep them at the proper temperature and to serve those that come in for late night meals so that we could get some proper rest. We don't have enough people to work the night shift. It was a particularly busy evening because we would be serving three species today. Barral food is easy to prepare but it’s a lot. T and I were busy hauling huge slabs of Sauropod meat from the walk-in freezer. Franny was working the meat like a maestro with her spice shaker on one hand and a butcher’s knife on the other. She was cutting the meat in long, fat strips that she skewers it with a rigid, violet vegetable. She wraps it with a thorny leaf then ties it up to secure it together. She took out a large sealed container from a nearby cabinet and opened it. It contained sealed jars of bright yellow liquid. When she removed the seal, an acrid aroma wafted around the preparation room. Musaka, who’s species’ nose is very sensitive, started coughing in loud and long intervals. He stumbled around and was struggling to open a cabinet. T rushed to help the Inugorian while Franny resealed the jar and apologized profusely to Musaka. She has forgotten about the extreme reaction of the Inugorian to the substance. Musaka waved her away as T fitted him with a half face mask.

“What the hell is that?” I asked. I picked up the jar and stared at the viscous fluid.

“It’s a binding agent and also a nutrient mixture that reacts with the sauropod meat. Once ingested by a Barral, the mixture hyper activates the species’ digestive fluid causing them to break down the meat faster. The nutrients help maintain proper nutritional content that gets lost during the hyper digestion.” She replied as Franny took out a brush and started brushing down each skewer. I took an extra brush and started working from the other end.

“‘Break down the meat faster?’ I thought that the Barral could eat almost anything? They’re the only species I know that could eat non-endemic flora and fauna from their homeworld.”

“Yes, they can. There is no problem with them eating without the mixture. This is mostly to accommodate their current lifestyle. An adult Barral takes about 36 hours to fully metabolize food on a full stomach. While they’re still digesting, the Barral is a bit slower. That can be deadly in a fight. Besides, they said that it makes their food taste better.” Franny shrugged and continued brushing. I thought about what she said and was supremely grateful to learn something new. I’ve never heard of the practice and I’ve been serving Barrals for years. Now that I think about it, eating in a nice eatery in the middle of a city has a lower chance of flying swords and deadly intent compared to a warship looking for one.

We just finished preparing the Sauropod skewers when the lights suddenly turned red. The PA system crackled then the ship’s XO could be heard.

“General quarters, general quarters, this is not a drill. Report to your action stations. General quarters.” A blaring alarm could be hear reverberating throughout the ship. I could hear faint shouts and the thuds as people started running to their assigned stations.

The kitchen crew burst into action. I’ve just finished this part of my training and knew what to do. What I didn’t expect was the sudden burst of adrenaline that was coursing throughout my system. I ran towards the gas valves and started closing the seals. Franny ran towards the back and activated the automated shutdown of the different appliances. T and Musaka just finished securing their assigned emergency shutdown stations and were flying out the door. I took a second to check that the valves were all registering a closed icon before I beat feet. It would be catastrophic if the galley blows up because of an open gas line during a fire. I was running like the devil was after me with Franny close behind. I skidded around the end of the passageway and slammed on the bulkhead. I paid it no mind and rebounded as fast as I can and stumbled in our assigned fire room. I immediately reached for my environmental suit and started donning it. I felt somebody sealing me up from behind and saw Franny do a quick check on my seals before she moved to gear up herself. I helped her seal up too and noticed that my hands were shaking. I don’t know if I was afraid or excited but I was definitely anxious. I slammed a hand on her shoulder to indicate that she was sealed and ready to go. T and Musaka were also done and were strapping on their repair gear. Since I was the least experienced person in the room, I was designated as the mule. I carry all the extra equipment and the replaceable parts. My pack was created with an igneous design that allows it to pack as many retardant tanks, suppressor grenades, and patches an unaugmented human can carry.

“Comms check. Comms check. Sound off.” Franny’s commanding voice came in clear in my helmet speakers.

“T, ready!”

“Musaka, ready!”

“Albert, ready!” I think my voice broke but I hope they were too busy to notice.

Franny was standing by the fire room wall screen and pressed an icon. A green light went off the top of the door. Franny toggled a different comm channel but kept us tied in.

“Response crew D-14, ready!”

“Acknowledge D-14. Slaver transport ship was sighted. We’re moving to intercept.”

“Thanks for the heads-up, control. The boys and I are packing and waiting.” Franny cut comms with control and switched back to our local channel. She waved us to sit on our response chairs beside the repair and firefighting lockers and had us strap ourselves down.

“Everybody got that?”

“Ooh, those slavers are going to be in a world of hurt. An armored shuttle could take out a slow ass transport. This is going to be quick.” T’s derisive assessment of our opponent’s chances was not unfounded. I don’t know much about military hardware but I do know transports. Most freighter-class ships come with two gimbaled single pulse lasers normally used to obliterate obstacles in space like rocks, ice, and the occasional offloaded detritus such as waste canisters. It’s just an extra level of protection to give ship shields some breathing room to recharge. Especially useful when passing debris fields.

“That is preferable. I would not want to respond to a ship repair call when can be avoided. We have enough work as it is.” Musaka replied. He was rechecking his hoses for blockage and was testing the pressure charges. I decided that I should do the same. My pack was a lot bigger but everything was easy to reach. I’ve thought that the patches would weigh me down, and they are of considerable weight, but not as much as I thought. It probably has to do with the well engineered magnetic clamps that attach to different parts of my suit. The pack’s weight sits snugly right in the middle of my upper back. There are buttons on the waist strap that I could press that would extend a holding rack on my pack. I wouldn’t have to reach back for them.

We sat in silence for a couple of minutes then we felt a slight rumble emanating from above. I looked questioningly at Franny. We had our face shields off to save on O2 and so we could talk to each other normally.

“Fighter catapults. We’re playing back-up for the system cutters moving in to intercept. We’re not authorized for independent operations.” She was listening to the chatter on the comms. We were tied in and I understood what was generally being said but the extensive number of jargon I was hearing was totally new for me.

In the course of the two hours we sat there, we would occasionally feel some faint rumbling as fighters launched and came in to land. We spent our time chatting and speculating about if the Navy would try to board the transport or just pummel it until it surrenders. There was a lively discussion between the four of us if the slavers would actually allow themselves to be captured. Their normal operating practice is to blow themselves up if in danger of arrest or capture while taking with them as many enemies they can. They don’t have a choice in that. The transport ship probably has a cloaked courier following it from a distance. Those ships are almost impossible to find if they don’t want to be. The overlord that leads the slaver operation in the area would be in the cloaked courier with the detonation codes for the ship down to the individual slave soldier. Once the overlord decides that the usefulness of the transport is at an end, he could choose to detonate the ship by overloading its power plant. That would be a double-edged sword, though. The transmission signal could easily be traced so if he does make the decision, the courier ship would immediately gate out after ensuring destruction.

It makes me sad and angry when I think about the fate of the poor bastards the Krait slavers have. They live and die based on their usefulness and the whims of their overlords. I promised myself that if I ever get into a situation of either be dead or be enslaved, I would choose to die. I don’t think I would survive the brutality of the life of a slave. Why prolong the pain? I’ll just give them the finger and eat laser.

Eventually, the order to resume regular operations rang throughout the ship. We stood up and started returning the equipment back on their ready racks. I was happy that we didn’t have to do anything. I tried not to show my nervousness while sitting on my ready chair but my constant twitching and tapping of my legs didn’t fool anybody. Franny would check up on my once in a while to make sure I was doing fine.

Franny requested access to the engagement recording and had it streamed on our fire room screen. According to her, the ‘battle’ was over half an hour ago.We watched as the system cutters disabled the ship by slagging its engines. They then started pounding on it with rail cannons, blowing gaping holes all the hull of the transport. The transport’s two puny lasers were shooting back but it was too weak to penetrate the cutters’ shields. It took just moments before both turrets were silenced and destroyed. It was all over for the slavers and we were just waiting for the cutters to deliver the coup de grace. The ship already looked like somebody chewed on it. One of the cutters started demanding for the ship’s surrender but was met with silence. There was a brief debate about capturing it but the threat of the slavers scuttling the ship was too great a risk so they decided to destroy it and look for survivors later. The cutters deployed their missile racks for a volley. Before they could do so, the transport suddenly exploded. The explosion ripped the ship in half. Pieces of the ship peppered the cutters and were rocked by hard hits. Their shields held, though one of the cutters reported a blown power coil. A huge chunk of the transport’s hull slammed on the beleaguered cutter, overloading its shield matrix. The coil melted but it saved the ship.

There wasn’t much left of the slaver transport but the cutters were still out there doing SAR operations. They’re hoping they could scoop up a lifeboat and find somebody to interrogate. Most people think its wishful thinking. What people were concerned about was that the ship explosion was not triggered remotely. That means that the overlord courier ship is still out there. There were very few reasons why an overlord ship would stay and all of them are disconcerting. To this day, the council worlds still curse the name Xiao Bin, a scientist of infamous status, who after inventing the cloaking technology and pioneering the design for the galactic shadow ships, promptly defected to the Krait Slavers. It was sensational news 12 years ago when a SecNet stream was highjacked by the doctor to announce his change of employment. During the broadcast, he vented his anger towards the galactic council’s treatment of him. He railed about how the council would force him to work while separating him from his family. His wife eventually left him and his children grew up barely knowing their father. He blamed the council for his wife’s abandonment and subsequent divorce and promised that he would inflict the same pain he felt after his life crumbled around him towards the council worlds. Now, slavers ships are equipped with cloaking devices and other new technologies that the doctor cooked up. It is the only time in history that a pirate/slaving group is able to match council tech. The saving grace for the multitude of species the Krait slavers prey on is that they're constantly broke. Nobody wants to fund such a well-armed people who can, at a whim, enslave you. Kidnapping and economic sabotage could only get you so far. They normally have ships doing piracy work but they have to very careful about that. The council revived an old practice of using Q-ships to sucker pirates and slavers into attacking. It took a while before the Krait slavers caught on. By the time they started scaling down their attacks, they've lost a sizable number of ships they're I'll afford to lose.

We made sure everything was on its right place before we left the fire room. Franny reset the 'on duty' signal then informed us that we clocked in at 47 seconds in our readiness speed. She wants to work that down to 40 seconds for the next couple of days. She wasn't too happy about how long we took in getting there, suiting up, then getting gear on. I felt guilty since I was the one slowing everybody down. I will just have to work harder if I didn't want to be a liability.

We got back to the galley and restarted everything. Thankfully, there wasn't anything on the stoves that required uninterrupted cooking so nothing went to waste. There are ways to save undercooked food or interrupted cooking but it normally requires a lot of effort to get it to taste good. The worst thing is some meats don't react to well when the temperature of food goes down or up to a specific level. The meat would stay hard even if you reheat it to the previous temperature. Texture also is a variable not easy to replicate after some vegetables get soaked in solution. Chemical softeners would fix most problems but the softeners really messes up the taste. We did the best we can and came out with a passable dinner spread. It wasn't our best work but it would still taste good.

We were loading the counters when people started streaming in. There were a lot of grumbles about not being able to participate in offing the transport. The admiral is a revered man among the Red Tigers and they wanted some payback. They could accept the admiral being a target since he chose this life and it's a life of danger. What they can't accept is the failed kidnapping of his daughter. When they saw the traumatized child with a bruise on her face, they almost did an unauthorized assault drop on Illustratum to search for the evil bastards. The admiral had to threaten them with expulsion from the Red Tigers and that barely did it.

The more experienced mercs were saying that there was still a chance for them to get some licks in. The overlord courier is still in-system and there were still those slave soldiers hiding in Illustratum. The older mercs are counting on the Ceres government to hire them to root them out. The local police were already struggling with the number of tourist in Ceres. They don't have the numbers to also address the off-world terrorists threatening their people.

We finished up dinner and called it a day. I headed to Punch Drunk for a bottle of beer before I go to sleep. It was a particularly intense day for me so I felt exhausted. I got there and saw the place packed. Rather than the screens playing some game or another, a space at the far corner of the room was cleared and a low platform was placed. The improvised stage looked very festive with the multi-colored lights on the background and some cloth trimmings on the edge of the stage. The stage was occupied by a band preparing to perform. I was feeling really pleased since I didn't know we had musicians on board. I could see that it was a small 5-man band that focuses more on pre-space music. A couple of wind instruments and an electronic drum set was prominently on display. A tall, vivacious woman was bantering with the people sitting in the front while her bandmates were tuning their instruments.

I was halfway done with the bottle of beer when the band got started. It was a tight squeeze around the bar itself as most of the people who were off duty were packing themselves in. I could see T and Franny and gave them a wave. They couldn't join me due to the number of people present so they settled on leaning on the bulkhead beside the door.

"Welcome, everybody! Exciting night we're having, eh?" A couple of laughs rippled through the room as the singer worked her magic. She has a magnetic personality that has nothing to do with her looks. In fact, from what I could see in the back is she wasn't wearing any kind of makeup.

"Since the day was such a disappointment, why don't you let us lift the mood a bit? Just a reminder folks before we start, Woglinde's premier band, 'The Grease Monkeys' will be busy next week so we would send an announcement through the Woglinde Community Channel if we could spare the time to perform so make sure to subscribe." A loud boo echoed throughout the room but it went away quickly enough when the singer made a cute pout.

"I appreciate the love guys but unless you're willing to work extra shifts for me, you're going to accept the fact that you'll be missing me dearly sometimes." She gave one of the crowd a wink that resulted into hoots and cheering.

"Now that we got that out of the way, let's have some music, shall we?" The holo keyboard started flashing as the keyboardist banged out a quick beat that the drums and the saxophone blended into. It was followed after a measure or two for an intro by the singer. She has that rich, low tone that reminds you of lounge singers of yore. The crowd quieted down and drank their poison while enjoying the great performance.

I finished the first set before I decided to call it night. It was a busy day and I just got a message from Franny. Apparently, some high-level politicians from Ceres will be visiting tomorrow for a meeting with the admiral. Franny didn't elaborate about what the meeting is about and just said that I was the only one who has experience in serving non-mass consumption food. She wanted to talk to me tomorrow before shift about what are our options for a five-course meal. We had limited stocks on board so we're going to have to be creative. I was already thinking about the different recipes we could try but the fuzziness in my head tells me that one, I had too much beer, and two, I was tired. I acknowledged her plan and slowly made my way to my cabin.

I took the time to clean up when I got back to my cabin. I was really tired now but I didn't want to sleep filthy. I took a sonic shower instead of using the water. I want to save that for when I really needed it. As I crashed into my bed, my last thought before I went to sleep was how bare my room was and promising myself to decorate it when I get the time.