The sports arena itself was nothing like the Morro Bay had intended.

With a large oval in the middle, rows and rows and rows of all sorts of people coming around to watch the big game; roller derby is unheard of around the galaxy after all. The lights beamed down onto the mat placed down across the arena floor, with a large oval painted neatly along the mat itself; the perfect setup for a roller derby game.

“Aye, M’Hark,” Jetta nudged the Caitian. He glanced over at her. “Get up there first. Just got word we’re the first ones up.” Runt skated forward as the rest of the crew spoke.

“SO, Hollis,” Gigi smirked as she ever-so-casually wheeled up next to her competition. “It seems to me as if you are. . .anxious? Unsteady. Unbalanced? Oh, perhaps-”

“Just say worried, Ampere.” The Ferengi grunted. Gigi wasn’t wrong–he was, truthfully, very nervous. But if there’s one thing he hates; its having his pride knocked down a few pegs. “And no. I am not.”

“Uhhuh…sure, sure.” Gigi smirked as she kicked her foot back and rolled ahead. “Whatever you say!”

Nearby, Amira waited by the sidelines with a medical kit in hand, arms crossed, as Plimmitt walked up next to her. He gave an uneasy smile at the doctor who flashed him a more confident one.

“You. . .aren’t worried?” Plimmitt muttered, glancing back at the game. “They could hurt themselves here.”

“They could. You’re right.” Amira’s eyes landed on both of the teams as they greeted one another in a much more friendly manner than they ever did weeks ago. “But that’s part of the game. Besides, I made sure the EMH’s little ‘serum’ wasn’t in anyones systems.”

“Why did it even do that?” The engineer rolled his eyes. “It’s not in it’s programming.”

“Beats me, but Headquarters will give us an answer eventually. But–y’know. Either way, its water under the bridge! Let’s just sit back and enjoy the game, Plimmitt.”

. . . . .

They lost.

The game itself had little importance–but, for whatever had happened, they had lost. After all the celebration and commotion, Runt found himself sitting in the locker room, looking downwards at the floor and lost in thought. He had barely moved since the loss, and almost every other member had gone out for drinks.

Well, almost everyone.

“Hrelle.” Sylvesters voice cut through the air, causing the cat’s ear to flicker upwards. “What are you still doing in here?”

Runt just shrugged.

“Are you. . . .okay? You seemed a bit upset out there.” He cleared his throat, bracing for the blow up that would happen shortly after. Runt turned around to face him. . . .but said blowup never happened. Instead, a hand was stuck outwards, with a tired smile sprawled across the Ensigns face.

“Good game, Commander. I can swallow my pride for a bit.” Runts tone was soft, eyes slightly downcast. “Sure, I’m upset. All that drama and underdog talk, yet we lost–that’s never how it’s supposed to go. Buuuutt….it did.”

“Good game.” Sylvester shook his hand. “What, are you learning humility for the first time?” His mouth slowly curved into a teasing smirk.

“Haha! No, no, just…” Runt adjusted his uniform. “I’m just glad to be done with that. Looking forward and whatnot, right?”

“Exactly.” Sylvester gave a steady pat to Runt’s shoulder, shaking him around a bit. “I’m proud of you, M’Hark. You’ve really matured recently, and it’s showing. Why do you think that is?”

“I. . . .don’t know. I think I’m just finally coming down from the mental high from the Vaadwuar.”

“That’s fair enough.” Sylvester shrugged as he started to walk towards the door. “But, give yourself some credit. Amira said the same thing to me. Anyways; are you coming to get drinks, M’Hark?”

“I’ll meet you out there in a second, sir.”

As Runt went to gather the rest of his stuff, his eyes slowly landed on the mirror in the far right of the room–his reflection staring right back at him. For a minute, Runt thought it was another Caitian; but, no. Just himself. His new self–part of his ear missing from the attacks and a bit roughed up from roller derby.

Was joining Starfleet the right choice?

The question warped its way around his head for a few moments before being quickly shaken away. To Runt, of course it had been–even if it came with these small quirks. He imagined himself in a Captains uniform some day–shiny new pips, a ship to control and take care of. A bright future in science and exploring the depths of the galaxy, bringing peace to others and helping more. One day, he’d-

“M’Hark, I’m leaving with or without you!” Sylvester called.

“AH! Sorry, Commander! Coming!”

…but that was a long ways from now. Right now, the most pressing matters was a cold drink, and some good company.