Observe and Honor

         "Son, have you ever been drunk?" Edison tilted his head forward ever so slightly and his dark, penetrating eyes drilled deeply into Cantoran's.

         "Sir?" Alex's brow furrowed in obvious confusion at the query.

         "Have you ever been drunk? I don't mean a buzz. Not drinking one too many beers in a bar or at a restaurant or mess hall on base. I mean...full-blown everything-is-blurry-and-I-can't-remember-my-own name drunk?"

         "Ummm...yes...sir. A couple of times. Why?"

         "Well, Private, getting drunk - and I mean properly intoxicated on the best stuff you know and like - is similar to this mission assignment. We may not like the people we're spending time with, our only respite is imbibing heavily on what we know and like best and when we go to sleep we're going to hope we're still alive and in one piece the next morning. That's what wearing these CUs is all about. For getting yourself into very uncomfortable and awkward situations and hoping like hell you're still around the next day to be thankful for having survived."

         "So if I look at Captain Greene and Commander Frederick as bottles of really bad whiskey that will make me throw up I'll get through this assignment and be happy? Is that the strategy you're suggesting, Major?"

         Edison erupted with his distinctive laugh and slapped Cantoran on his right shoulder. "Ehhh, take my advice for whatever you want, Alex. I just know that everybody on this starship has a job to do and it's my job to ensure that we get back in one piece. Sober or not. The sooner we end this damn war the better life is going to be for all of us. Starfleet. MACO. Whomever."

         Cantoran smiled and glanced around the room, his eyes darting from one bulkhead and piece of Starfleet-issue furniture to the next. "If we do win the war, I hope somebody in a position of authority in Starfleet eventually decides that gray and silver are pretty awful colors for decor. Something tells me even these Romulans have better interior decorating taste than the designers of these NX-class ships."

         "Yeah, Starfleet ships do look a little bland and sterile. Maybe someday they'll realize that being cooped up inside these flying tin cans for years will be a more pleasant experience if they add a little damn color to the walls and corridors." Balthazar had the feeling deep down in the very pit of his being that - somehow and for whatever reasons - he'd be spending a lot more time aboard Starfleet vessels in the coming years, and he didn't know what to think of that. Or if he even should be thinking about it. He first had to survive this mission, and at the moment that was his only priority.