Alexis looked up from her tablet and the plate of breakfast, the pub they’d found for their berthing served a respectable plate of sausage and beans, to find a lieutenant beside her table. She’d been reviewing the ships in-system. There were but five days left on Admiral Piercy’s promised fortnight and she was beginning to allow herself to hope that Hermione would not show. She hadn’t said anything to the men about the chance of being sent to another ship, though, as she didn’t want to get their hopes up. “Yes, sir, I am,” she said, standing. She caught sight of the Station Patrol insignia on the lieutenant’s uniform and her shoulders slumped. “Drunk or fighting?” And, please, let it be one of those and not the third over breakfast. In the nine days they’d been on station, not a one had gone past without the Station Patrol dragging some of her lads back to the pub. It was an expected thing for ships in port, but Alexis had never had to deal with the aftermath directly.
