Three Hundred and Fiftieth Millennium.

  Eighty Eighth Year.

  The United Xeno Coalition was founded in the Three Hundred Eighty Second year of the Twenty Second Millennium.

  Since that time it had seen thousands of years of peace. Wars that lasted millennia.

  It expanded to the entirety of Orion's Arm.

  Five Billion Systems.

  Thirty different cultures.

  One people.

  They had two primary threats.

  The Empire of the Great Flock, who was currently existing in a state of agitated peace.

  And the Cylinzz'ik Hegemony, who was constantly assaulting the Border Worlds.

  That war never ended. It only waned.

  And there was a solid chance they would have to fly through it.

  Regina sat in her personal office.

  As per the now expected design philosophy of the ship, it was in the last place she'd think.

  She had to leave the bridge, turn immediately right, and go through a hallway that served no purpose but to lead to the office.

  An office that sat directly behind the bridge.

  The office that had a window looking INTO the bridge.

  A window.

  Instead of a door.

  She shook her head, moving her attention back to her datapad.

  Currently she had the files of her bridge crew pulled up.

  Master Mate Jinoto was her pilot. He had an extensive career but no awards.

  Which was odd for someone selected to fly a four hundred kilometer brick.

  17D-Ten, or just Ten, was the Nexus navigator. File said he was here to represent the synthetic intelligence species, and while a civilian, had agreed to be under her command.

  Next on her list was Senior Crewman Menian.

  A Jee'dor with a long list of recommendations. Menian was assigned as her Operations Crewman.

  If the ship was a body, and the crew were the nerves, the Operations Crewman was the brainstem and spinal cord.

  No data stream moved through the ship, out of the ship, or into the ship, without passing by his eyes.

  File said he had to jack into the console directly, as his species navigated by echolocation and couldn't read.

  Then there was Senior Crewman Alisser, her shield tech.

  Algalgian, no official reprimands, just a man doing his job.

  The last was Senior Crewman Vanessa Mall. Human, young, and had a list of reprimands a mile long.

  All of them just under actual punishment.

  But despite the official reprimands for drinking in uniform, disrupting workspace, and wandering off, Regina noticed she was never late to her shift.

  She would have her hands full with this one, especially since her file said she could line up targets like a wrathful god.

  A sound reminiscent of a high-pitched whistle went off, causing her to jump out of her skin and almost out of her seat.

  It took her a second too long to realize it was her door.

  "Enter," she called out.

  The door slid open to reveal Andrew with a datapad of his own.

  She couldn't read it, but she recognized a list of names when she saw it.

  "Please tell me that is your headache, Mr. Anderson," she pleaded as she motioned him to sit.

  "Mostly mine," he replied with a smile, taking the offered chair.

  He placed the pad on the desk and tapped it.

  "I have ten people that ultimately lead civilian operations."

  Regina nodded.

  "That should be a manageable number for you," she said. "I have already met with Major Uniton of the Marine Corps and Major Helieen of the Army. They are up to date on current expectations."

  She looked at her own list of leaders and heads.

  One of them was scheduled to meet with her later this afternoon.

  Of the remaining three, two of them already didn't show, and the third was an issue.

  "I'm actually glad you're here."

  He snorted. "Those are words I never thought I'd hear."

  "Don't get used to them," she said with a slight smirk.

  Might as well get the issue out of the way.

  She pressed a file on her datapad and pushed it to her civilian counterpart.

  He picked it up and looked at it.

  "Master Shepherd Slavi," he read aloud.

  "Assigned to represent the Temple," Regina finished for him. "Here from the Second Herding Fleet."

  The Visselari Herding Fleets. Three in total, each one guiding the massive Kna-Kna through the void of space.

  Thousands of kilometers long serpents that fed on the heat of stars, and laid their eggs in the hearts of red dwarfs.

  The serpentine Visselari believed them to be the children of their gods.

  Thank those gods there were only ever three of them at a time.

  "So what is the problem with him?" Andrew asked.

  "He is assigned as a pilot instructor," Regina pointed out. "As well as Lead Pilot. But he isn't military."

  Andrew nodded along.

  "So we have a civilian, regardless of his..."

  His voice trailed off as he read the file.

  "One hundred forty-seven confirmed kills?"

  Regina held her hands out.

  "Civilians fall under you. But military falls under me. He can't be both."

  Andrew handed the pad back to her.

  "If he is in charge of training and leading the fight, then he's yours."

  Regina blinked.

  Andrew noticed.

  "I told you I was reasonable," he said.

  Regina resisted the urge to roll her eyes and instead stood.

  "I have to go find two missing officers," she said. "I assume you came here for a reason?"

  He stood as well, grabbing his datapad.

  "Yes, I wanted to make sure you had as big of a headache as mine."

  He grinned. "Mission accomplished."

  Regina did allow a smile then.

  "Join me?" she asked, beckoning toward the door.

  Andrew waved her forward.

  "I could use the exercise."

  ***

  Northumbria was four hundred kilometers long.

  Two hundred fifty wide.

  Two hundred tall, not including the city tubes.

  You didn't walk that.

  From the bridge Regina and Andrew were able to quickly enter the Mag Tube System.

  The M.T.S. was not just horizontal travel, but capable of vertical travel as well.

  And at very high speeds.

  You could get from one end to the other in two minutes, and there were enough ports to get within a ten minute walk of anywhere inside the main bulk of the ship.

  Or the "Brick," as Regina had heard a crewmember lovingly call it.

  Everyone lived in the city tubes, but aside from privately owned shops and corporate offices, everyone worked in the Brick.

  Manufacturing, material processing, everything the Expedition needed in one ugly spot.

  They could make munitions, build whole starfighters, and repair their escorts.

  They could take raw material and process it into usable material.

  They could even manufacture luxury goods.

  The most impressive bits, if you asked Regina, were the mobile parts.

  The Brick contained four mining modules and three gas harvesting modules that could be left behind in a system to gather materials.

  This allowed the Northumbria to continue exploring surrounding systems, and return to retrieve their people when they were done.

  If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  It even had seven mobile fighter docks, allowing them to leave behind up to three squadrons to protect their assets and provide a place for those pilots to sleep and eat while waiting.

  The Brick was also where the main supply warehouse was located, and where the pair of leaders were headed.

  As they approached the large metal doors at the end of the dark brown, badly lit walkway, Regina turned to Andrew.

  "Last chance to turn back," she said.

  He grinned.

  "And miss the chance to watch you work? Never."

  She let out a soft, "Hmm," and moved to the door.

  Entering her command code the doors slowly slid open.

  And then continued to slowly slide open.

  She inhaled very deeply.

  "Seriously," she said aloud. "How much did you spend on this ship?"

  "Clearly not enough," Andrew replied, just as annoyed.

  When the doors opened enough for her to pass through, she did so, Andrew following.

  A voice over a small speaker scolded them for "endangering themselves before the doors were fully secured open" in multiple languages.

  Inside the warehouse, men and women of varying species, all wearing the black, green-trimmed uniform of the Logistics Corps, moved with purpose.

  Stacking crates, moving stacks, breaking down stacks, shelving crates, it was a ballet of grunt work.

  And the conductor of the whole ordeal stood in the center of it all with a datapad in hand, scolding anyone who wasn't moving fast enough.

  Regina approached, waving away any of the enlisted who tried to respect proper formality.

  She didn't need validation.

  She needed them doing their jobs.

  Then she reached the leader.

  Coming in a whopping point six meters, covered in brown, graying fur, Major Snibbins was a prime example of a Neeoot. The otter-like being didn't even look up from his datapad as they approached.

  "Captain," he said, almost nonchalantly.

  Normally, she didn't care for theatrics.

  But this fuzzy bastard had wasted enough of her time.

  "I believe this is the part where you snap to attention, Major!" she barked.

  Snibbins looked up toward the distance and let out a sigh.

  With the speed and precision of a dying Tunga Snail, he lowered his datapad, turned to her, and stood straight.

  "What can I do for you, oh mighty Captain?" he asked, his tone thick with it. "To what do I owe the honor of distracting me from my work?"

  "You not showing up for our meeting!" she snapped.

  She did not have the patience for the usual Neeoot bullshit.

  Not today.

  "Oh! I'm sorry!" he replied, leaning to one side and crossing his stubby arms. "Is keeping your people fed and supplied too low on your priority list?!"

  "My priority, Major, is the smooth operation of this Expedition!" Regina snarled. "Which includes meeting with my section leads and understanding what challenges they are facing!"

  In response, Snibbins simply held out his hands to encompass the warehouse.

  "Ta-da..." he responded dryly. "Is the meeting over yet?"

  Her eyes flared, her mouth opening to unleash hell, when the whole moment was interrupted by a young, pretty human female walking up, datapad in hand.

  "Sir," she said, not even bothering to look up. "I don't see why I have to work with the civilian-"

  She cut herself off when she did look up, seeing Regina and Andrew standing there.

  She snapped to attention, sharp as a knife.

  "Captain, Sir!" she said. "Welcome to the Logistics Warehouse!"

  Regina took a moment to calibrate.

  Whoever this was, Snibbins was her superior, not her fault.

  "And you are?" she asked.

  "Field Sergeant Alina Perry, Sir!" the young woman snapped back.

  Regina didn't physically react, but her mind tilted sideways.

  Field Sergeant?

  That young?

  The rank made her the NCO second in command to Snibbins.

  Which then snapped her earlier complaint into focus.

  "You're the one working with..." Regina looked to Andrew, the name lost.

  "Scraan," he offered, the first thing he had said the entire exchange. "Scraan Teem."

  "Him," Regina asked.

  "Yes, Sir," Alina responded. "Providing logistical predictions and solutions for the ten-thousand-year Expedition, Sir."

  Regina was about to respond when Snibbins barked, "My Field Sergeant has shit to do, Captain!"

  Her head snapped to him, eyes hot. Without looking at Alina, she said, "You're dismissed, Sergeant."

  Snibbins locked gazes with the Captain as the younger woman made a hasty exit.

  "You may run this Expedition, Captain," he snarled. "But this warehouse is its own domain, and I am its god!"

  ***

  The carbon weave titanium bars slammed shut, locking Snibbins in his new home.

  He quite literally jumped up, grasping the bars, feet planted on the metal, and shook with all his might.

  "You can't imprison a god!" he shouted at Regina's retreating back.

  "I will return more powerful! I am-"

  The door to the brig snapped shut.

  ***

  The engine room was surprisingly small.

  Not that it WAS small.

  Large enough for several consoles, each manned, and the shield generator.

  Shields were a precarious bit of tech.

  A shield could actually be brought down in a couple of shots, the superheated plasma melting the generator and emitters.

  To counter this, ships used heat sinks to absorb the heat.

  "Shield integrity" wasn't a percentage of hardness, but of how loaded a heat sink was.

  The larger the ship, the more heat sinks it could run, and the more spares it could carry.

  This translated into straight capital ship combat taking hours for smaller ships like corvettes, and potentially up to days for larger ones if the crew knew how to dodge.

  Regina moved through the room, the enlisted and junior officers ignoring her.

  She loved the engineering deck for that very reason.

  Work was too vital to stop and salute.

  She stopped her walk near the center of the room.

  She had been prepped.

  Dozens of files, reports, recommendations, and even several hours of "Cultural Sensitivity" briefs that no one enjoyed and everyone thought was a waste of time.

  But she was still taken aback.

  Senior Lieutenant Vaaka stood near the shield generator, datapad in hand. His hair was thick, black, and pulled up into a bun to keep it at regulation length.

  Long hair wasn't an issue on the bridge or the mess, but on a working deck where it could get snagged, protocols existed.

  He also sported a neatly trimmed beard, which was against regulation, but he apparently had a cultural waiver for it.

  But what caused her to come up short were the tattoos.

  They were everywhere.

  Around his eyes, down his neck, and even crawling out from under his rolled up sleeves and onto the back of his hand.

  She took a breath, then called out.

  "Senior Lieutenant Vaaka!"

  The human turned, saw her, then checked the time on his datapad.

  The curse that came out was paradoxically guttural and oddly musically smooth.

  He instantly moved to her, handing his datapad off to a crewman.

  Stopping in front of her, he straightened.

  "I am very apologetic, Captain," he said in heavily accented Coalition Standard. "We are headed to territory where we may fight, and I wanted to ensure our protection was at proper..."

  He paused, searching for the right word.

  "Strength?" Regina offered.

  He nodded.

  "Yes, Captain. At proper strength."

  "We are five days away from Eonta," Regina pointed out. "Plenty of time to check things over."

  She wasn't mad.

  Not yet.

  He was an outsider.

  The fact that he held the rank of Senior Lieutenant was a testament to his skill.

  But he was still learning UXC Navy Culture.

  "Yes, Captain," he agreed. "But I was thinking it would be the better option to commit a full examination of the Shield Generator as soon as I was able. To give my team as much time as allowed to work on any issues or malfunctions."

  She was quiet.

  It was solid reasoning.

  And he hadn't neglected to come to her. Just got wrapped up in his job.

  How dreadful.

  She relaxed a bit.

  "Where is your translator, Lieutenant?" she asked.

  "Where I sleep," he answered.

  She allowed a small, amused smirk.

  “Your quarters?”

  He nodded.

  If he was embarrassed he didn’t show it.

  “Yes, Captain, my…quarters.”

  "I appreciate you trying to learn our language," she said delicately. "But we will not have time in battle to let you work your way through it. Keep it on you at all times. Just in case."

  "Yes, Captain," he responded.

  "And be in my office tomorrow at 0800 ship time. We will go over your concerns then."

  "I will arrive on time, Captain," he assured her. "This I swear upon the Void."

  ***

  Issue officer solved.

  Two no-shows handled.

  Regina entered the hall that led to her office when she was forced to contain a snarl.

  Waiting at her door was a brown-feathered, four-eyed Falka, standing at perfect Imperial attention.

  One arm at his side, the other forming a fist over his heart.

  She stopped in front of him, scowling.

  "I don't remember calling for you, Si'a Lako," she said, his rank foreign on her tongue.

  He chirped out his response, the translator on the right side of his chest firing off.

  "I apologize for intruding, Captain," he said. "But as the representative of the Holy Empire of the Great Flock, I thought it prudent we speak in order to properly set your expectations in my role here."

  "Fine," she said, brushing past him. The door to her office opened and she motioned for him to sit.

  He did so, but stiffly.

  As she took her seat, she made no attempt to hide her contempt.

  "So," she began. "Si'a Lako Kakor Oowanda. Seems odd that the Empress gave a Falka a commissioned rank."

  "The necessity of the situation demanded it," Kakor explained. "While the Empress wished to extend her desire to assist-"

  Regina snorted.

  He ignored it and continued.

  "-sending a member of the Divine Varrack species into the unknown was too great a risk."

  "And what, exactly, does her Imperial Majesty expect twenty-six Falka to accomplish?" Regina asked.

  "For starters, our families are here as well, so as time progresses, you will have more than twenty-six," he answered.

  "Christmas has come early then," she responded dryly.

  Kakor tilted his head.

  "I apologize, Captain, I do not understand."

  "Forget it," she said, waving a hand.

  "You are a professional soldier, Lako, so I won't lie to you."

  "I appreciate that," he replied.

  "I don't want you here," she said. "I don't buy for a moment that you are here to help."

  She grabbed a datapad and handed it to him.

  "However, it is out of my hands. I have been ordered to integrate you."

  He looked at the datapad, his four eyes blinking in thought.

  "I see I am to report to this Master Shepherd for assignment."

  "He is head of all fighter operations," Regina clarified. "Is that going to be a problem?"

  Kakor looked up.

  "Absolutely not, Captain."

  "Good," she said. "Those are my expectations. Dismissed."

  He stood, gave an Imperial salute by placing his hand on his heart, then chopping down.

  He spun and moved to the door, his movements sharp.

  At the door he paused and turned his head to her.

  "Out of respect to your own professional status, Captain," he said. "I will tell you this. I do have ulterior motives for being here, but they have nothing to do with attempting to impede your mission."

  "I figured as much," she responded. "So why are you here?"

  "Simply to assist you, and identify threats to the Empire."

  "And if we find such a threat?" she asked.

  He turned to face her.

  "May I speak freely, Captain?"

  She was quiet, then shrugged.

  "Why not. Go ahead."

  "Any threats to the Empire would be a threat to the Coalition," Kakor said. "Our nations are, begrudgingly, intertwined. If we come across a threat, I would hope you would identify it, and allow me to give my home a warning."

  Regina was quiet for a few more moments.

  "I agree," she finally said. "I will not stop you from communicating with the Empire about potential threats."

  She stood, leaning in.

  "But attempt to act against those threats without orders from an officer of this Expedition, and I will have you swatted from the sky."

  He nodded.

  "Dismissed, Si'a Lako."

  ***

  There were sixteen city tubes, each able to comfortably hold up to four hundred thousand people.

  One point two million if they really had to.

  But with a starting population of a little over a million, only five of the tubes were inhabited, and none of them to capacity.

  Regina had decided to reside in Tube Ten, refusing the larger apartment afforded her station for a small, one bedroom.

  After arriving...well home, she showered and changed into civilian clothes.

  Locking up, she took the lift down to street level and exited, looking up.

  If she was being honest, the city tubes were indistinguishable from the cities of the Coalition.

  If you ignored the fact that right now you could see the darker than dark shadows of the Ether Space currents. Ether Space currents…during “day light” hours.

  All around her, the men and women of the Expedition moved down the street.

  Some were still unpacking, kids explored, teenagers attempted to look like they weren't impressed by it all.

  Zipping her jacket up, she made her way towards the one destination she had been looking forward to all day.

  Each tube was separated into multiple residential, commercial, educational, and recreational bands, spreading the population along the tube and preventing pile-up.

  Luckily for her, the nearest recreation band was a brisk walk away.

  The What Ales You already looked like it was an old part of the city and already full. Right next to both the communal mess on one side, and the M.T.S. station on the other, military and civilian both would have no choice but to cross in front of it at some point in their day.

  And they might as well go in.

  The door slid sideways as she approached, and she was immediately hit with soft music, buzzing conversation, various substances being smoked, and the smell of poured alcohol.

  People moved out of her way, muttering greetings as she passed.

  Reaching the bar, she took a seat and waited patiently.

  The human who slid up to her from behind the bar was wearing a white button-down, a brown apron, and black slacks.

  Both his hair and beard were short and neatly trimmed, and his eyes sat behind a pair of glasses that were feeding inventory and order data to him in real time.

  His brown eyes screamed "Please don't take note of me," which of course made her immediately make note of him.

  "I'll have-" she began but he was already pouring a dark green liquid into a glass.

  "A Mint-Leaf Mead," he finished for her, pushing the glass to her.

  She stared at the drink for a moment, then at him.

  "It’s a gift," he said with a polite smile, answering her unspoken question. “Was always good at guessing people’s tastes.”

  She reached for her banking card but he waved it off.

  "First drink of the Expedition is free, Captain."

  "That's very kind of you, Mr..."

  "Glenn," he responded. "Glenn Hiestand."

  "Thank you, Mr. Hiestand," she finished.

  He shook his head.

  "Just Glenn, please," he said with a smile. A patron called for him and he excused himself.

  Regina grabbed her glass and stared at it for a long moment.

  Day One after launch and already she collided with culture, tossed an officer in the brig, claimed command of a Master Shepherd, and negotiated with an Imperial.

  "What a day," she muttered.

  A bear-like beast of a being sat down next to her.

  Even in civilian clothes, Chief Mate Teekaan was pristine and within regs.

  "Captain," he said, waving down Glenn.

  "How was your day, Teekaan?" she asked.

  Glenn slid up, grabbing a large mug and filling it with a thick black ale.

  He handed the mug to Teekaan who nodded and said, "Open a tab."

  "First drink of-" Glenn began but Teekaan interrupted.

  "I said, Open a tab."

  His tone left no room for debate.

  Glenn paled a bit as he stared up at the massive Oomaraan.

  "Sure thing," he said, moving down the bar.

  Regina snorted in amusement.

  "Guess that answers that question."

  The pair of them drank in silence for a long moment.

  "I'd call them a bunch of ass wipes," Teekaan started. "But I doubt they could even manage that."

  Regina smiled and shook her head.

  "Come off it, Teek," she said. "These are the best of the best the Coalition could spare. They are more than competent."

  She turned to face the nearly three meter brute.

  "You just always set your standards above the skillset so you have a reason to complain."

  He didn't loom at her, staring straight ahead as he took a long pull from his mug.

  "Your point?" he asked.

  Regina burst out laughing, a sound that was foreign even to her.

  She leaned against her oldest friend and held her glass out.

  "To Tomorrow," she toasted.

  He tapped her glass with his mug.

  "Always behind you," he finished.