He wasn’t certain that he and his deserved it, but they had it, just the same. The Odyssey itself had probably taken more total damage than the Archangels and had certainly inflicted far more than the small flight had been able to, but there was always that wall between them and the crew of any ship they served upon.

“Lieutenant Commander.”

Stephanos paused, noting that one figure had not melted away to the sidelines. A tired smile crossed his face. “Captain.”

“Good to have you back aboard, Steph,” Weston told his younger friend. “You did good out there. You all did.”

Behind him, Steph heard the Angels muttering their thanks, but their hearts weren’t in it. Apparently, the captain heard the same thing.

“You all go get some rest,” Weston said. “I need to speak with your commander for a minute.”

“Yes, sir,” they muttered as they shuffled past.

“Hard one?” Weston asked as they followed, albeit at a slower pace.

“About the same as any other.” Steph shrugged. “Felt like a rush while we were out there, but we’re all coming down now.”

“SAR shuttles picked up Angels Two, Three, and Five. They’re okay.”

“That’s good news, sir,” Stephanos said, relief in his voice.

“Once we’re in orbit, I’m taking a shuttle down to the surface,” Weston said.

“Sir?” Steph paused, frowning.

“It should be safe enough,” he said. “Brinks informs me that most of the fighting is dying down and they’re just mopping up now.”

“I’ll detail two of the Angels to escort you.”

“That’s not necessary.”

Stephanos shook his head. “You’ll take them, or you’ll take the entire squad. Your choice.”

Weston chuckled, shaking his head. “Sometimes I wonder who’s really in charge of this heap.”

“You are.” Steph grinned. “And none of the rest of us want to take your place if you get your dumb ass killed, so bear with us, all right?”

Weston nodded. “All right. Two. No more.”

“What about the bandits?”

“One of them is down; the other is running for the heliopause,” Weston replied. “We’re running a plot on it, and it might make it.”

Stephanos winced. “Damn.”

“Out of our hands now.” Weston shrugged. “Nothing to do about it.”

“All right. I’ll go break the bad news to the pilots,” Steph said. “Hey, Raz?”

Weston paused when he heard the more common version of his call sign. “Yeah?”

“You were right about Cardsharp.”

Weston shot him a puzzled look. “Who?”

“Samuels. She got pinned with her sign during the poker game.”

“You still play that, huh?” Weston asked, with a fond smile, though it was more a statement than a question.

“Of course.”

“Good. And I’m glad that she worked out,” Weston said. “Now, I’ve got some work to do…I’ll see you later.”

“Sir.” Stephanos stiffened and saluted.

Weston returned the salute before turning and leaving.

Stephen watched him go for a moment, face blank, and then turned and followed his team into their bunk rooms.

They were spread over practically every available surface of the common room, none of them apparently in the mood for actual sleep and all of them interested in what the captain had to say. He looked them over briefly, smiling as he shook his head.