Kurt scowled.  Rose bothered him, even though she was hardly the worst of his problem children.  It was easy to imagine her putting her desire for revenge ahead of sound tactics and careful planning – to say nothing of the overall objective.  He understood the desire for revenge, even shared it, but he also knew that he had to put his own problems to one side and concentrate on his duty.

“Relax now,” he ordered, softly.  “And remember that there will be other battles.”

“There will be,” Rose agreed.  She grinned, suddenly.  “We gave them a fright, didn't we?”

Kurt nodded.

“And we showed those fools back on Earth that we can kick butt with the best of them,” Rose said, her grin widening into a smile.  “Thank you, sir.”

She gave him a peck on the cheek, then walked out of the compartment before Kurt could say a word.  He stared at her, one finger touching the spot where she’d kissed him, then shook his head in disbelief.  Rose ... wasn't anywhere close to stable.  But then, few pilots were.

“Damn it,” he muttered.  He closed the hatch, then keyed his terminal.  There was just time to record a v-mail to Molly before he went back to the pilot quarters for some sleep.  “What’s gotten into her now?”

He waited till the recording light came on, then started to speak.  “Hi, Molly, I don't know quite when you will get this message, but I think you’ll get it before I return home.  We won a battle ...”

When he was finished, he saved the message, uploaded it to the communications network and then went to get some sleep.

***

Ted sat in his cabin, eying the bottle on his desk.  It was finest Scotch, a present from an old friend upon his promotion to Commodore; Ted had been saving it for a special occasion.  Now, with an alien fleet in full retreat and his ship thoroughly vindicated, it seemed as good an occasion as any.  But he wasn't sure he could ensure that he stuck to just one glass ...

He’d won, he knew.  The Royal Navy might call him a drunkard, the other commanding officers might question his qualifications, but none of them could deny that he’d won a battle against a powerful and seemingly overwhelming foe.  Everyone had seen the recordings of New Russia by now, everyone knew that humanity’s very future hung in the balance.  But he’d pulled off a victory and, in doing so, altered the course of the war.  Or so he hoped.

It was worthy of a drink.  Wasn't it?