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[Cassie Granger 0]

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“You dealing, Cass?”

 

She thought a minute before responding. “Aye, sir.”

 

He gave a slow nod, dropped his gaze and reached into his pocket. “Your dad said... if anything ever happened to him... I was to give you this.”

 

Cass turned to face him; her eyes darted from his to his outstretched hand as he handed her two pins, one worn with age, the other not so worn but definitely old. She’d seen them before.

 

“That one...” he pointed to the newest, “... his expert rifleman badge. First he ever got. He was so proud.” Tigard paused, lips pressed together. “That one... one-seven-one Guadalcanal. Passed down from your ancestor, Jonathan Wester Granger. Hell of a family you have, Cass. Your dad was so proud of you. Want you to know that. And if ever you need... anything. I’m here.” [One Shot, One Kill]

 

 

 

Early evening brought a lull in activity at New Topeka Base Operations as most were either in the mess hall or had gone home. Cass had been in the corridor for what seemed hours, waiting for Starfleet Intel’s vultures to finish picking Frank clean. Her face bore a few fading bruises and her legs ached, but she couldn’t bring herself to move from the deserted waiting room as she fingered two objects, taking particular care to not damage either.

 

The door opened and Frank Granger stepped out, two plain-clothes Intelligence officers close behind him.

 

“Ma’am,” said Frank, coming to a respectful attention three feet from Cass.

 

“Staff Sergeant,” she replied with a nod as the officers passed, “we need to talk.”

 

The soft door whoosh signaled the officers’ departure and Frank relaxed. “Hey, Buddy. Thought you’d be at the mess. Your mother and I were getting ready to join you.”

 

“Not exactly hungry,” she replied tersely without anger. “Got something for you.”

 

He dropped his gaze to stare at the emblems in her outstretched hand: two pins, one worn with age, the other not so worn but definitely old.

 

“Where’d you get those, Buddy?”

 

“General gave ‘em to me, sir.” Regardless of rank, she’d always called him ‘sir.’ Old habits died hard, especially when it came to family.

 

“Brigadier General Tigard?”

 

“Yes, sir. Figure you need ‘em back.”

 

Another few minutes of staring and Frank’s gaze met his daughter’s stoic expression, his brow wrinkled with incredulity. “You thought we were dead.”

 

“Yes, sir,” she said, her voice faltering. “Ticonderoga went down with all hands at Vulcan. Didn’t know you were TDY* with Fleet Intel. No one did. For a long time. Verification came two days before Viper Strike.”

 

“Buddy,” Frank said, slowly closing her fingers over the pins while the opposite arm pulled her into a firm embrace. “Cass,” he whispered in her ear, tears flowing freely, “I had no idea.”

 

Cass returned his hug but strained against her pent-up emotions, so many accumulated over time and compounded by the latest mission. She finally freed some, but not all, afraid she might break completely and she couldn’t afford it. At least not now.

 

After several minutes he pulled back, his hand still holding her fingers closed over the pins.

 

“Buddy... you keep them. You’ve earned it.”

 

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*TDY - Temporary Duty