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Most posts should come with a song. This song link will be in the title of the post.

The Crew's Dance

The bar of the Qebui was alive. The normal lights had been darkened, a large disco-ball dazzling the room in a variety of colours. The room pulsed as collective feet beat the deck in perfect time, shadows standing away from the dance-floor urging them on with rhythmic clapping. The people brave enough to take to the dance floor danced in pairs, most of them taking sips from glasses whenever the song gave them enough of a pause.

The dancers swung each other around, beating their feet in machine-perfect timing as they allowed themselves to be towed and slung around the dance-floor. Everybody had their arms outstretched, seeking others to catapult themselves or be catapulted toward another dancer. Occasionally dancers were launched into the shadows, to be pushed back into the tangle of bodies massing in the centre of the room.

Gradually, over the course of the evening, more people in the shadows summed up the courage to join in. The centre of the room was more of a black hole - sucking people in, occasionally spitting out the tired as excess. The song repeated again and again for hours. The dancing became erratic, tiring, until eventually Colonel Nathan Laton was one of those spat out. Two hours of constant dancing had worn him out, and he retreated back to the shadows and began clapping between his downing of scotch.

It was their last day moored to Evora. The crew's last day home for a long time. The Qebui had been scheduled for three months of deep space reconnaissance - attempts to find possible Nomad ships or hidden sanctuaries. After that, there would be no resupplying. So the crew's logic was "why not drink and eat as much as you want when those supplies can still be replaced"? Laton agreed with it; anything to get more of the good stuff down his throat when he could.

He wouldn't call himself an alcoholic. Not by a long shot. He just enjoyed the drink. He saw nothing wrong with enjoying a drink, and if he had the opportunity a glass of scotch was always at hand. This was one of those times - the day before a massive task, the launch of the Qebui and the beginning of the mission. The hangover in the morning was a price worth paying if it gave him some fun tonight.

He felt an arm grab at him from the mass of people fast approaching. A crush of people moved into him, he managed to down the rest of his drink and throw the glass in the direction of the bar he was engulfed and pulled away from the bar and back into the fray. His drunken chuckles went unheard, the violinists in the corner drowning out all noise apart from the stomping and clapping of the masses.

The dance in the bar continued for next few hours. The mass in the center of dance-floor kept getting smaller and smaller. No suprise, that is. Most people were tired after few hours of dancing.

Some people were dancing more, some less. One of them is Commodore James Arthur. He is stubborn, when it comes to dancing, as he thinks he is like "a figure made of wood". He sat down, enjoying his drink. His thoughts were pointed at tomorrow, when the Qebui is supposed to embark on its mission...

Arthur walked to Colonel Laton. "We might disband this little party soon aswell." He looked at the dance-floor, and then back at Laton. "It is getting too late, and we can't afford to have our crew totally drunk." He chuckled, and pointed his eyes at the cheering people, restlessly dancing hours, and hours...

Laton chuckled. The drink was taking its affect on him now, his head was spinning. He staggered away from the central mass, now weakened enough so as not to keep him trapped, and slammed himself into the bar for balance. He laid his head down, allowing his knees to give way and fall to the floor. He was chuckling like a drunk.

Eventually, Arthur tapped him on the head and he regained control of his body. He stood up, and signalled to the violinists to stop playing. The song cut off, the clapping ceased, but the boots continued to pound the floor. The people inside didn't want to stop.

'Riiiiight!' Laton called out. The dancers finally stopped and faced him, most of them standing at attention. A few were spinning, obviously dazzled by the sudden change of noise and motion. He allowed some leniency for these few. 'We have a big day tomorrow, do we not?' He left it hanging for a few seconds, until finally the dancers began to respond with "Yes sir". 'It is now twenty-one hundred hours. The launch ceremony starts at ooh eight hundred. So you'll be needing a good night's sleep. Get to bed, that's an order!'

The people saluted, muttered various comments that could all be simplified to an agreement with him, and began to depart the bar. The disco-ball came to a stop, the normal lights flashing back into life. The people standing in the shadows, not dancing for a variety of reasons, were suddenly illuminated. One of them was Chief of Security Lewis Church, a six foot five black man with muscular arms described by many as oak tree trunks. He was bald, with deep brown eyes people found unreadable.

He watched the people depart, wishing to fall behind the crowd and keep to himself. One of the small groups he observed was lead by Lieutenant Eleanor Wish, the Squadron Leader for the Qebui. She was staring right at him. He looked back at her. She smiled, winked, and with a spin of her head her hair swished close behind and she began walking toward the cabins with some of her fellow pilots.

He watched her go. She was attractive, yes, but he wasn't ready to start dating again yet. He hadn't waited long enough since the death of his wife. Occasionally he saw her in the faces of other people. His wife haunted him like a ghost, although he knew she would never have wanted that for him.

Five minutes he waited in the bar, resting against the wall with his arms behind his back, before beginning his walk back to the crew cabins. It'd be a long day tomorrow, organising security during the launch ceremony. And then three months of what he hoped would be easy work. But his gut told him that wasn't what he would be receiving.

Arthur watched whole situation. When everyone left the room, he walked to Laton. "Good job, Colonel. But... As far as I know I said 'soon', not 'now'." He chuckled, and tapped Laton's shoulder. "But... nevermind. The sooner, the better. Laton nodded a bit, and kept trying not to fall down. "Go get some sleep. You will be needed 'non-drunk'. I'll be leaving to my chambers now. Good night." Arthur finished with a deep breath, and walked away to the bar.

He was exhausted, and somehow ignored salutations of his crew while he was walking down the corridors. Once, he approached doors of his chamber. He entered. His room was bigger than other ones, yet, he was the Commanding Officer of The Qebui. He sighed, looked around, and went on to take a shower. Few minutes passed away quickly. Arthur walked to his bed and lied down, endlessly thinking of tomorrow. He knew it was going to be a big day, so he has to be fresh. He closed his eyes, and slowly, slowly... fell asleep.