The cork spiraled off the bottle and champagne bubbled out. Everybody cheered, and across the room, Michael sarcastically remarked to 23 that having half the champagne on the floor instead of in the glasses was a good way to keep the room sober. 23 rolled his eyes even as he laughed, "In this group? Forget it." He scanned the room, eyes resting on several of the people. When he spoke again, his voice was very serious, "Besides, they need a good night of fun."

Michael grimaced, "Fun?" He watched the other RCF members at the party and added, "I wouldn’t want to be them in the morning!" He heard 23 sigh and realized he was doing it again. Separating himself. Being critical to avoid being hurt. And by doing so, pushing them even further away. Quietly, he forced himself to say, "Sorry, Craig."

23 didn’t look at his friend, but a sad smile quirked up the corners of his mouth. "Never mind. We who must abstain, must by circumstance be the ones who watch."

Looking sideways at 23, Michael made no obvious remark to that comment, but his silence spoke for itself. 23 laughed and said, "Come on, Michael. Let’s get some of that bubbly sparkling cider." As they passed through the crowd, people would stop them, wanting to chat with 23. 23 was amiable, but if the other person ignored or was hostile to Michael, 23 would quickly cut that conversation off and head on. Michael watched all this mostly in silence. He appreciated 23’s friendship, but wasn’t sure if he liked his methods. When he saw people give him a cold shoulder for no other reason then his looks, his blood flared up and he was ready for a good argument. I’ll show them reason! I can think -- I don’t use my fists first. As if he could sense Michael’s thoughts, 23 turned from his current discussion and gave him a glare. Michael glared back until he saw the hurt in 23’s eyes. It wasn’t that 23 was hurt by Michael, rather that 23 felt hurt by the way his other friends would turn from Michael. But Michael wasn’t helping matters by reacting defensively, and that’s what 23 was trying to point out to him. He sighed and turned away, scanning the crowd for anybody else he felt comfortable with. Indira Telasner caught his eye and nodded. With a bit of relief, Michael headed to her. He liked the Master Sergeant. She was efficient and capable and evaluated him by the same standards she did everyone else. If during maneuvers she yelled or frowned at him, he knew it was because of his performance and not because he was a half-Rec. When he reached her side, she acknowledged him with another nod and continued scanning the crowd. He didn’t particularly feel like talking either, and they stood together in companionable silence.

There was a stir in the group as 23’s wanderings finally brought him to Lt. Bacraft. Julie. Michael corrected himself. She wasn’t HazLib anymore. The whole reason for tonight’s party. He and Indira watched with amusement as Julie grabbed 23 and brought him in for a deep kiss. Indira turned her wrist and watched the seconds go by. "Any bets?" There was a ripple of laughter from around them, but before any numbers were shouted out the kiss broke up. "Seven seconds -- that was a short one." The man next to Julie put his right hand out and shook 23’s in a firm grip while at the same time putting his left possessively around Julie. Julie leaned back comfortably in her fiancee’s arms as she grinned at 23 and said something Michael couldn’t hear. He saw 23 laugh and move on again.

Michael looked at the chrono and tried to estimate how long politeness said he should stay at the engagement party. Then he tried to think about what he would do if he left. Nothing came to mind, and he decided to stick around longer.

23 reviewed the data chips as Valdoon watched over his shoulder. He glanced back, "Are you seeing what I’m seeing?"

Valdoon left off hovering by 23 and paced around the office. "They’re using HazLib as a training ground." He stopped briefly and stared at 23. "I don’t like it," he stated before continuing his back and forth pace.

Scrolling the stats up to a name they’d already passed, 23 shook his head. "No motivation." He read some of the info on the dossier and shook his head again. "All these applicants -- they want to go into HazClaim, but there are no openings for them there."

"We need somebody who cares about people, not things." Valdoon posted himself at 23’s side again and stared at the screen.

23 took his hands off the keyboard and sat back, "Too many people are leaving HazLib, and our budget keeps getting lower."

Valdoon grimaced, "I know. Back in June, when I added Connie on the team, that took us above our allotted personnel. Ten years ago, she would have made up the minimum number required for a HL team."

"In all fairness, though," 23 couldn’t help sticking the opposite side in, "Things are more settled now than even ten years ago. We aren’t nearly getting the stream of Refugees, the Recs have settled into packs and territories, other outlying towns are springing up with their own HL teams..." 23 spread his hands, then he grinned, "And listen to yourself -- ‘ten’ years! Like it’s the blink of an eye."

Valdoon blinked in surprise, and 23 laughed out loud. Valdoon grinned back at his friend, "You’re right. I’m 79 years old this year. Near fifty years on the Youth Drug. I think I have lost my time perspective." Suddenly, his face went still and quiet.

23’s expression clouded over as well, "How’s Ben?"

The reply was sobering. "He got through the bypass okay, and they elected not to replace his heart with an artificial one. They said..." Tom trailed off. 23 waited until he continued. "The doctors said that with the proper nutrition and exercise, Ben’s likely to live another 20 years."

"Another 20 years..." The words echoed silently around the office and neither man would look at the other. With the Youth Drug, no one knew how long they’d live, but only the most pessimistic person planned only for another 20 years. Another sixty or seventy years was what the doctors were estimating, and some said that was being conservative.

The silence stretched out and then abruptly Valdoon turned away. "This isn’t helping us find Bacraft’s replacement."

"No." 23 paused, started to say something, then paused again. Finally, he spoke clearly, "I think we should just hold it."

Valdoon looked at him in question.

23 waved his hand at the computer, "Don’t accept any of these. Wait until something better shows up.

"Leave our team understrength?"

"With Mendi on it, we’re overstrength." 23 grinned at his joke. Valdoon winced, then thought seriously about it.

"I like it, 23." Valdoon moved away. "I think the General will go for it too."

"It’s not like Bacraft was a Weapons Officer." 23 spoke with an underlay of sarcasm, and for the second time, Valdoon winced, this time in sorrow. 23 instantly regretted his statement and silently apologized to Tom.

"Forget it, 23. Now that that’s solved, let’s head out."

"Where?" 23 levered himself up from the desk.

"King's Ransom."

23 was suddenly effused with energy. "I’m there!" Tom laughed and they left the office.

... ... ...

Valdoon turned around and stared in surprise at Mendi, "You want what?"

Mendi bit his lip and repeated, "Permission for a four-day leave, sir."

"We’re understrength. Just last week I asked everybody to help out and be patient." There was an edge of tension under Valdoon’s voice. Mendi looked away, but didn’t comment.

23 sat back and watched his friend. And Michael and I were talking about it -- he knows. The Colonel was more surprised than anything, but 23 decided he’d better step in, "What’s up, Michael?" Valdoon raised an eyebrow at 23’s intervention, but moved back and let 23 take the focus. Mendi shifted uneasily from foot to foot and didn’t answer. 23 rolled his eyes in exasperation, it can’t be that bad, Michael -- just tell us.

After studying them for another moment, Mendi shrugged and said, "Jacine invited me out to Austria for the launch of the Nisus."

23 was bolt upright and almost out of the chair in less than a second. "Oh!!!!! Can I come too?? Are there extra spots???"

"Uh...," Michael was taken aback by his friend’s enthusiasm, "I’ll ask. She probably c--"

"23!" The explosion came from Valdoon and the other two turned to him. "23," Valdoon continued more gently when he had their attention, "I might, might let my Weapon’s Officer off on leave with no advance notice. I am not letting my Chief Tactical go at the same time!"

That brought 23 up short, and he sat back down. "Sorry."

Valdoon turned to Mendi, "If I recollect, the Nisus is scheduled to launch tomorrow."

Mendi grimaced, "Well, that’s Jacine. My sister has--"

"Sister?" 23 blurted out and got surprised looks from the other two. "You have a twin?"

That got a very surprised look from Valdoon, and an amused one from Mendi. Mendi regarded him with entertained tolerance, "Different fathers, 23."

"Oh. Right." 23 was about ready to sink through the floor. And he’d finally interpreted Tom’s looks -- all that was in Mendi’s personnel file. "I, uh... Never mind." He gave up.

Michael displayed one of his rare grins. "Anyway, Jacine has no real time sense. She called me at 2am last night with the invitation."

"2am..." Valdoon sighed, and motioned to 23.

He responded, "This is a rare opportunity. No shuttles have been launched for over 60 years -- the space station is getting low on resources--"

Valdoon cut in, "23, I know all that."

"Ahh," 23 was disconcerted, then recovered, "If you don’t let Michael go, I’m quitting!!"

Tom Valdoon stared at his friend then rolled his eyes, "Melodramatics. 23, can we cope without Mendi?"

"Ahh." 23 finally gave it some earnest thought. "Connie’s still on reserves -- she’s trained as a Weapon’s Officer."

"Andy will want to come back." Tom was worried for his friend.

"Andy’s not coming back. Tamlynn won’t release him medically yet."

Tom turned around in surprised, "Still? It’s been six months."

"Actually, I think Connie pulled in a favor, but Tamlynn’s stated reason is that she’s still studying all the mutations of Wasteland Plagues that Andy came back with." 23 grinned at the thought of Tam in her lab -- and his friend Andy’s discomfort at being a guinea pig. In the background, Michael shifted uncomfortably, and 23 spotted his unease -- Michael didn’t even like to think about being a guinea pig.

"Alright." Valdoon regarded Mendi seriously, "I’ll give you the leave this time, but don’t make last-minute requests a habit."

"Yes, sir."

"23 -- call Connie."