Learning to Dance

happy, is he?”
“Would you be?” the lieutenant said. “We’ve wasted
almost a week and plenty of resources on these people. Taz
was right - the least they could have done was say no right
away, rather than dragging it out.”
The ensign threw his cards on the table and leaned back
in his chair, tilting it toward the wall. “Who is this Taz? I
keep hearing his name around the ship.”
The lieutenant chuckled. “Ain’t no he, son. Ensign Taz is
the toughest Ranger to come out of the Academy since the
Commander himself – she’ll be made a lieutenant soon
enough - and she won’t take kindly to being called a man.”
The ensign put his hands behind his head and leaned still
farther against the wall. “Wait, are you talking about that
little Mexican girl that’s always following the Commander
around? That’s the legendary Taz?”
The lieutenant’s eyes darted nervously across the room.
“That’s her.”
The ensign burst out laughing. “I just assumed she was
the Commander’s – well, you know. She’s seems like she’d
be quite the looker under all those combat fatigues-”
A sharp whistling sound, and the mess hall fell silent. A
knife, short but deadly, quivered in the wall a mere inch
from the ensign’s ear.
“And she’s a good shot, too,” said a low, thickly
accented voice. Across the room, Ensign Taz lounged back
in her chair in an exact imitation of the rookie.
The ensign made a half-formed splutter in response. Taz
swung herself out of her chair and walked toward him. She
didn’t break eye contact with the rookie, still frozen with
fear, as she pulled her knife from the wall and twirled it
once in her fingers. The ensign winced.
“Remember that,” she said, and sheathed the knife. She
turned and walked out of the mess hall. A few appreciative