“I would check those orders again later, just to be sure.” Markus’ mouth curled upward, as Isaac’s eyes darted back towards him, “You know how headquarters like to change their mind.”

If only “headquarters” had done so before the first transport or, more generously, before the first Starbase. Isaac held out one of the warm cups in his hand to the slender man waiting on a bench.

“What.”

“Helpful.” Isaac stared flatly back. “Coffee. You like it. Give me that screen.”

“Ship’s gone,” Isaac boggled, having taken his own seat on the bench to read.

West, The Undercaffeinated