“You know, I said all that crap to the orderly but the truth is, getting a new leg hurt like a bitch.” Nessa complained as she and Warren made their way to one of the many restaurants on the Brigade ship.

Even after having been on board for over a year, she still had a hard time reconciling the fact that these massive ‘hub ships’ were essentially the same as a normal planet side base. They had their own economy, schools and even family housing for the soldiers who wanted that lifestyle. One of the greatest advantages to having such a mobile base was that companies and families never had to be apart for longer than a single mission.

Sure, when the AHF was founded, people didn’t believe that such a structure could work. In fact, the more ‘traditional’ members of the brass fought tooth and nail until the Unranked Officers put a foot down and declared that they would not allow families to be broken apart, no matter how loosely they were related. It was one of the things she worried about most at first. Then, Jack pulled and pulled until their little band of misfits had become a family of their own.

“Then why the hell did we leave?” Warren exclaimed exasperatedly, “If you still hurt, then we are going back to sick bay and having the doc take another look at you!”

“Sure we can… after we sit and have a meal. Where are we going anyway?”

“There is a place on one of the upper decks that makes a mean fish and chips. I had it a while back and hadn’t had time to take you.” Warren said, pushing his mind into the control system for the lift and opening the doors. “But if you’re not up to it, we can go ba…”

“You knew about a place with supposedly ‘good’ Irish food and you didn’t tell me?” She interrupted in mock anger, lightly swatting him on the chest. “I thought we were friends, asshole.”

“We are, and that’s why I was going to take you the first chance I got. However, we had to go do some mission and you ended up getting your leg eaten.”

She knew he meant it as lightheartedly as possible, he always did, but being reminded of her handicap hurt more than she wanted to admit. They said that she would be able to function just as well as she could before, but she didn’t feel the leg like she did the other one.

The Doctor also said there would be no phantom pain since she was able to get the prosthetic attached before her brain could truly realize that the limb was gone, but she felt it. She felt the pain of that tentacle wrapping around her and squeezing like a starving snake.

If that wasn’t enough, the memory of those teeth extending from the alien, like claws on a cat, haunted her. She could feel the teeth tearing through her armor like it was made of paper. She could feel the pain as the skin was parted and the bone severed as easily as a person could cut a slice of bread.

She could feel… She could feel… She could…

“We’re here.” Warren said, pulling her out of the mental well she was drowning in.

Taking a moment to look around, the little pub looked just like one out of her childhood memory. Old wooden walls, leather booths, and dingy lighting gave the place a feeling like none she’d had since leaving home so many years ago.

In a dark corner, made so more out of happenstance than a desire to create a clandestine meeting place, she spotted a booth with seven figures. In an almost disconnected haze, she watched as one of them said something, and was met with a round of raised glasses.

“You… sent a message out to the squad?” She asked slowly, “I thought this was supposed too just be us.”

“It was, then I saw how you were staring off into space and ignoring what your body was telling you. I know better than to tell you not to do something, so bringing you to our family seemed the next best option.”

“They’re not my family.” She said sternly.

Warren knew how touchy she was on the word. For Nessa, family only ever meant pain. Long before he’d met her, Nessa’s father had forced to fight. He was there for one of these sessions, and in the end, his friend could hardly walk away.

“Wrong choice of words then. I brought you to the people that care about you more than literally anyone else in your life. And since you don’t seem to have the strength to hobble away, you are going to sit down at that table and listen to what they have to say.”

He’d gotten her there. He knew without a shadow of a doubt that she would jump through fire for these people.

Looking down, she amended her previous thought. She would loose a leg, or any limb, if it meant keeping her friends above ground.

“Fine.” She said, beginning the slow walk to the booth in question. In that moment, the pain seemed to lessen, but she would be damned if Warren ever heard those words. “So, you bastards came to an Irish pub without me?” She said, putting on the stoic mask she always wore.

“Not at all, we came here for you.” Jack said, motioning for the others to slide in and create enough room for the last two members of his squad. “However, I think we were all a bit surprised to hear that you were leaving sick bay at all.”

“I’m not sick. And besides, the doctor told me that everything went well.”

“That usually doesn’t mean leaving as soon as you can stand.” Thea said with raised eyebrows.

“Don’t piss her off Ness. Mom over there is more than willing to drag every member of this squad into that hospital if you are still having issues.” Dave said, his grin never fading in the least. “I wouldn’t put it past her to make us eat standing up if it meant keeping you in a place where you can be watched.”

“I’m not going back to that damned hospital until they need me for the neural implant. Until then, I want to sit and have a meal with friends.” She said, taking a seat and waving for the waitress to bring her a beer. “So, how did the after-action report go?”

“Better for us than others.” Jack replied, “One squad had two or three people end up on the operating table.”

“So, what you’re saying is, we didn’t fair so bad.”

“In terms of numbers, no.” Jack said taking a deep pull on his drink, “But damnit if I didn’t wish it would have been me instead.”

“Stop it.” She said sharply, “I don’t need you or anyone else on this squad to pity me, I plan on doing enough of that for myself as it is. We have all seen how people function with Li-Tech limbs, and they are still damned good soldiers. It isn’t your fault, or anyone else’s that I got hurt. It is part of being a warrior, things happen even if we don’t want them too.”

The group looked at her in stunned silence. Nessa speaking harshly was nothing new, but the passion with which she gave her speech was far out of her normal range. “I’m sorry, but it’s true. There are worse things that can happen on a mission, getting cybernetics implanted is nowhere near the top of that list.”

Even speaking the words out loud, Nessa didn’t feel them. To her, this was by far the worst thing that could’ve happened to her. Even death would have been welcome if it meant that she didn’t have to live without part of who she was. At least if her body would have died, there was a solid chance they could simply rebuild her has a Steel Cast.

Having an android body was better than this Frankenstein mix up, wasn’t it?

“Now, are we going to enjoy our evening, or are we going to complain about things?” She said as a tall mug of dark beer was placed in front of her. Raising the glass high in the air she shouted, “Slàinte!”

The whole table raised their own glasses and clinked them together in cheers. It seemed that the darkness in Nessa had passed, for the moment at least. If nothing else, having people around her that cared enough to worry as much as they did truly helped more than they could know. It wasn’t perfect, but what was?

She would overcome this pain. She would once again become the warrior she’d always been. To steal a phrase from Jack, she would rise.

“There you are!” The lightly accented voice of Staff Sergeant Sanchez shouted across the pub, “Been looking all over this stars-cursed ship for you.”

Pushing his way through the admittedly small crowd, the Latin main grabbed Jack by the shoulder, “You better not be too borracho, or this night is about to become a lot less memorable.”

“Hey Sanchez,” Jack slurred slowly, obviously more than a little drunk, “I heard you ‘n yours got pretty banged up. You good?”

“Hombre, you are in for a rough ride.” He laughed pulling the young solider toward the door, “You thought you were just going to party with your guys tonight, but you forgot about us esse.”

“Where are… we going?” He and the members of his squad had been going at the drink pretty hard and that left every since syllable a chore.

“The NCO club man, you’re an NCO now and it is expected that you take at least one good drink there after a mission.” Sanchez explained, pulling Jack out of the pub and into the nearest lift. “More if you’ve lost a soldier, but luckily you didn’t have anyone die on you.”

“But you did, ‘n you’re not drunk as a skunk.”

“They didn’t die, they needed emergency repairs. Just like your Specialist Walker back there.”

“Well…. What if I just want to go back to the pub?”

“Not happening. You’re a leader, and you’re expected to socialize with the other leaders.” He explained more than a little patronizingly.

“I’ve only been a sergeant for like… a day. What makes you think I’ve ready for the rest of you?”

“You did. You’ve been leading that little team of yours since Algol. Now, you have the rank to go with it. Now quit complaining, this is our stop.”

The pair stepped out and onto a deck that Jack had never heard of, much less seen with his own eyes. In hindsight he would realize the connection between never seeing anyone ranked higher than a specialist in the common areas, but for now, it was all he could do in order to stay on his feet.

The entrance to the NCO’s bar was about what you’d expect out of ground troops. A massive round steel door – probably artfully taken from an old armory – stood open with each of the six-inch-wide locks exposed to stop it from completely closing. Above the door, three words were emblazoned on a plaque: This We’ll Defend

“What is all this?” Jack said, the area around him sobering him up more than time ever could.

“This is why we fight. Once you step inside, you will see things that honor every facet of our military. Things that, until now, you haven’t had the need to care about. Those words,” He said, pointing at the plaque, “they are the core of our promise to always be ready to deploy and defend those who cannot, or will not, defend themselves. Come on in when you’re ready.” Finally letting go of his shoulder, Sanchez walked through the doorway and into the room beyond.

Jack lingered for a moment, staring at those three words. For the first time since deploying on his first real mission, he understood the why. Were there times in the short term that he didn’t understand the mission? Of course. But in the end, he had to trust that his mission was still, at its core, an effort to protect his people.

Walking slowly inside – still feeling a little unbalanced even with the sobering effects of the things around him – Jack saw a wall that was lined with rows upon rows of helmets on display for all that entered. Getting a little closer, he saw that each one had a small engraving with a name, date, and mission.

“This is our ‘Wall of the Fallen.’” A familiar voice said from behind him.

Turning around, Jack saw that First Sergeant Summers was standing there with an expression that said his mind was far, far away from this place. Slowly falling into parade rest, Jack immediately apologized, “I’m sorry First Sergeant, I didn’t see you there.”

“Would you just relax? I’m not your First Sergeant in this room, I’m Karyl.” He said, returning from wherever he was, “And if I’m not mistaken, this is your first time here, right?”

“Yeah…” He said slowly, trying to wrap his head around the sudden familiarity, “Why is this here? Can’t we just forge a new Steel Cast if someone dies?”

“Normally, yes. However, this is for those who don’t have that particular freedom.”

“Such as?”

In typical Summers fashion, the man just stared at Jack patiently as he waited for the younger man to reach an understanding on his own. Unlike all those times on Algol, this one only took a few moments before it became clear.

“They were too badly injured for that.” Jack said solemnly.

Walking down the line with Karyl in tow, Jack eventually came to a large sheet of metal with an inscription.

“The creed.” The older Optic said before reading aloud, “No one is more professional than I. I am a leader of Soldiers. I realize that I am a member of a time-honored group, ‘The Backbone of the AHF’. I am a proud Noncommissioned Officer and will at all times conduct myself so as to bring credit upon the title, the military service, and my republic regardless of the situation in which I find myself. I will not use my grade or position to attain pleasure, profit, or personal safety.

“Competence is my watchword. My two basic responsibilities will always be uppermost in my mind – accomplishment of my mission and the welfare of my Soldiers. I will strive to remain technically and tactically proficient. I am aware of my role as a Noncommissioned Officer. I will fulfill my responsibilities inherent in that role. All Soldiers are entitled to outstanding leadership; I will provide that leadership. I know my Soldiers and I will always place their needs above my own. I will communicate consistently with my Soldiers and never leave them uninformed. I will be fair and impartial when recommending both rewards and punishment.

“Officers of my unit will have maximum time to accomplish their duties; they will not have to accomplish mine. I will earn their respect and confidence as well as that of my Soldiers. I will be loyal to those with whom I serve. I will exercise initiative by taking appropriate action in the absence of orders. I will not compromise my integrity, nor my morality. I will not forget, nor will I allow my comrades to forget that we are leaders.”

Karyl allowed the words to sink in for a few moments as he fell silent yet again. The creed was more than just a jumble of words, and if Jack would have come up in ranks like a normal Sergeant, then he would have gone though the time it took to really understand them. Unfortunately, the powers that be had decided to grant this Soldier with more responsibility than he was likely prepared for.

No matter. His job as Leader, mentor, and friend all pointed toward helping this young man become the best he could be.

“It means more than the surface words.” Jack said, tearing his eyes away from the words. “And honestly, I would be surprised if anyone in this room fully understood them. They take a lifetime, don’t they?”

“More insightful than I gave you credit for, Jack.” He replied, walking slowly toward a gathered group of soldiers standing beside the bar, “It will take a lifetime, but a lifetime is what you have.”

“Boys!” He shouted, grabbing the attention in the room, “We have a new Sergeant here, and he’s never been introduced to the Seven.”

“Actually, I’ve met quite a few of them.” Jack said, becoming confused and quite embarrassed when the room began laughing.

On the bar, the bartender laid out seven shot glasses and filled each with what Jack could only hope was relatively weak liquor.

That hope was severely in vain.