Learning to Dance

karaoke night.
Not long after she joined the team, the Cazadora crew
had discovered that if you gave Lieutenant Taz enough
tequila and a microphone, she would sing anything – loudly
and lustily – with anyone, anywhere, anytime. The crew
took advantage of this whenever possible, as there wasn’t
much that was funnier than watching Taz belt out “Paradise
by the Dashboard Light” with whichever hapless partner
she’d managed to recruit that night. Up had to admit she
was actually pretty good, although you’d never try to tell
her that sober.
Taz finished her song to loud catcalls and kicked over
the microphone stand. Ignoring the cries for an encore, she
blew her audience a kiss and marched over to where Up
was standing.
“You’re a regular Aretha,” he said. He was glad to see
her enjoying herself. She’d been in a mood all day, bench-
pressing impossible numbers of reps in the gym and
refusing to come to the mess hall to eat. Maybe it was just
the constant threat of robot invasion that was bothering her.
She stuck her tongue out at him and turned to the
bartender. “Un tequila. And non of your local shit, por
favor.”
“Having a good time, are you?” Up said dryly.
“Excelente,” she said, taking the shot glass from the
bartender and knocking it back, disregarding the offered
lemon and salt. “While you just stand here looking like
your data dog just died.”
“Someone has to keep an eye on all you kids,” he said. It
was true. If anything out of the ordinary happened here
tonight, as the ship’s commanding officer, he’d be the one
to answer for it. The G.L.E.E. certainly didn’t need any
more trouble these days.
“Okay, padre,” she said with far too much emphasis,