Orders Are Orders

Posted on Tue Feb 17th, 2026 @ 8:32am by Lieutenant Colonel Jesse Moriarty & Sergeant Jace Morven

2,652 words; about a 13 minute read

Mission: Prologue
Location: Federation Ground Forces Detachment, USS Guinevere
Timeline: 2389, set the day after Requisitioning

It had been a morning of training for the squad. Halfway to chowtime, but even so Alpha Squad took care of stowing their gear. It was routine now, and they all knew the steps needed. The overhead lights hummed and Trelan stretched her back out, her eyes flickering towards the Sergeant. There was something. She could sense it through the fog she usually got from him.

Jace didn’t look at her. But he could feel her eyes on him. Ever since the Provost Marshal had talked to him, this had been on his mind. Transfer orders happened. You never had a say where you ended up. But...

Somehow, for once, this stung.

“Voss. Rourke. Hold back a minute,” he said, staying still as he watched the other troopers freeze. There was no drama in it, just a shift in the air, like pressure dropping before a storm. Gloves paused mid-peel. Lockers clinked shut with more caution than force. No one said anything, but the silence carried weight.

Vren raised his eyebrows, already halfway through stowing his helmet. “What’d Rourke break this time?” he muttered, too lightly to be funny, curiosity clear on his face.

Reyes elbowed him. Light, but firm enough to signal not now. Her expression didn’t shift much, but her eyes lingered on their Sergeant a moment longer, narrowed just enough to show she’d caught the undertone. She didn’t speak.

Even Bralk, who usually had something rough or unflattering to say, kept quiet. His eyes snapped from Rourke to Voss and back to Jace, then slid away again. T’Valla pulled her jacket off in a single smooth motion, golden fur sticking out a little from the drills. She gave Voss a look, sharp and unreadable, and then padded out with the easy grace she never lost, even after double obstacle runs in full gear. They all filed out, leaving Voss and Rourke alone with their Sergeant.

Voss still stood by the comms cradle, fingers halfway through unlatching his harness. His hands had stopped moving. One palm hovered near the second buckle like he’d forgotten how it worked. He wasn’t slouching. He never did when Jace had eyes on him. But he looked smaller somehow, like he was trying to shrink the space he took up.

Rourke hadn’t moved at all. He stood with his back to the lockers, arms crossed, boot planted against the wall in an image of defiance, waiting for...he wasn't sure what he was waiting for. His brow was already furrowed, mouth set in a line that said he’d decided this wasn’t going to be good before a single word had been said.

Jace watched them, not letting the silence sink in. He watched them both, hands by his side, posture calm. “There’s a new transfer order,” he said, voice level and stripped to its function. Neutral, not soft to hint or hard to condemn. It just was. “It’s from the new Provost Marshal. Dralis. He’s pulling you two into the MP detachment while he builds his team.”

That was all it took. Rourke scoffed. The sound burst out like pressure venting from a cracked seal. He straightened from the lockers with a short, sharp breath through his nose and took one step forward. Arms still crossed. Shoulders squaring. "Pull the other one, Sarge. It sings and dances,” he said with a frown.

Voss’s head snapped up, too fast. His eyes went wide, then narrowed slightly as if trying to decode what he’d just heard. His hand, which had been unclipping the last latch on his comms rig, froze mid-motion. The strap slipped from his grip and dropped to the floor with a faint clink. He didn’t reach for it. “Me?” The word came out with a catch in his throat. Small, uncertain. Like it had taken effort to push it through.

Jace didn’t react to Rourke's tone, or Voss' panic. Instead he wanted to make it clear what was happening. “Yeah,” he said. “Effective immediately. Military Police. You'll get orders on your PADD with more detail.” He let his eyes move from Voss to Rourke and back again. Not weighing, just present. “Not disciplinary,” he added because he knew where Voss would go, mentally. “Not a demotion.”

Voss had gone still. Not just pausing, but folding in on himself slightly, as if shrinking the space he occupied might soften the impact. His hands dropped to his sides, fingers curling without purpose, twitching once before stilling again. “I don’t....” he started. The words slipped out on a shallow breath, but they dried up fast. His mouth stayed open for half a second longer before closing. His throat moved like he was trying to swallow it back down.

Jace looked at him. “This isn’t about failure,” he said, his voice firm. He wanted to make sure he understood it.

Voss nodded. Too quickly. The kind of nod that came from nerves, not belief. His eyes didn’t meet Jace’s. “No, of course,” he said. His voice was tight. “I just...I thought...” He never finished.

Rourke stepped in before he could. “They think we’re weak links.” His tone wasn’t angry, but it was hard. Like the words had been waiting. Like they’d been sitting just behind his teeth the whole time, coiled and ready.

“No,” Jace said, sharper this time. Not loud but precise. He needed them to understand. “They think you can adapt. Voss, you’ve got the comms and cohesion sense they’ll need. You also...know people.” He turned slightly, eyes settling on Rourke. “And Rourke, for all the times I’ve had to pull you up for heat, you’ve got backbone. You see the angles when things go loud. You don’t scare easy. You hold ground.” It wasn't flattery, but fact. He just chose to leave out a few things. Wouldn't benefit them now.

Rourke’s jaw flexed. He glanced toward the lockers like they’d just said something insulting. His shoulders rolled back with a shift that almost looked like he might pace, but he stayed where he was. “So what,” he said. “They want someone they can shove in front of the rest of us to test the blast radius?”

“No,” Jace said again. “They want someone who can hold the line if it comes to it.” He didn’t say like I trained you to. He didn’t need to.

Neither of them looked convinced.

Jace shifted his stance. A subtle brace, like locking into terrain that might shift underfoot. “I asked to be the one to tell you,” he said. “Not because I agree with it. Not because I don’t. But because squad deserves more than a line of text on a PADD.” He paused, just long enough for the next words to settle for a moment. The next words were softer, quieter. “And because you’re my squad.”

Voss looked down. His hands had folded in his lap, clenched now into a knot that pressed white at the knuckles. Rourke let out a breath that was almost a laugh. Low. Humourless. His mouth twitched like he wanted to push back, but it didn’t come. “So when do we report for the first round of lectures?” he asked. Voice roughened by something that wasn’t just sarcasm.

“Tomorrow you report to Major Dralis,” Jace said before he looked down. He was tense, felt it bleed in his hands. He uncurled his fist. “This transfer isn’t your doing. We’re troopers. We go where we’re needed. Sometimes, it isn’t where we want to go.” Jace said as he looked at them, briefly, before his eyes shifted a little. Just enough to soften his focus, so the details weren't as stark.

That one sat there, unchallenged. No one tried to answer it. The silence stretched. Then Rourke looked at Jace, eyes hard, mouth tight. “Sarge.” He held the look a second longer, then dropped it. His eyes drifted toward the floor. He gave a short, bitter breath. “Shit. Guess there’s no choice. Orders are orders.”

Jace watched him. Then looked at Voss. Measured them both. Finally, he gave a single nod. “I’m giving the squad the rest of the day,” he said. It was just meant to be a day of training. He'd square it with Major Moriarty. “Pack your gear. And go to The Green Kiss. All of you.”

That caught them both. Jace wasn't known for giving any quarter, let alone a whole day for the squad to do nothing except indulge. Voss blinked, uncertain. “What about you, Sarge?” His voice had steadied a little, but it still had that tremor under the surface. He looked up. Eyes wide. Pupils too dark in the overhead light. “You....gonna be there?”

Jace held the look for a beat. Then he gave a slow shake of his head. “Best for squad cohesion to get blitzed without their Sergeant staring,” he said. The words were quiet. Dry. Not quite a joke, but close enough to pass for one. “Dismissed.”

Voss stood. Rourke gave a short, silent nod. Both came to attention, not because they had to, but because it still meant something. “Sarge,” they said, in unison. Then they turned and left.

Jace watched them go before he closed his eyes. He bowed his head, his hands tightening again into fists. Something flared, inside. Brief. He pushed it down. Exhaled...but he couldn't uncurl his hands.

"How'd it go?" Jesse Moriarty asked as he moved in, a hand pushed into his pocket as he made his way over to the Sergeant. He leant back against the edge of the table, gripping it lightly as he ran his eyes over him. As always, the other man was doing a terrific job of keeping his emotions under lock and key. "We all good?"

Jace opened his eyes and straightened, turning his head to look at Jesse. "Rourke took it as expected. Voss thinks it is a punishment, that we're moving him because he isn't as tough as the others," he shifted, rolling his shoulders for a moment. The tension was still there. He moved his hands to try and let it bleed through. "I gave the squad the rest of the day off. They'll be drinking it away in The Green Kiss." he stopped, blinked, and then frowned a little. "Should have gotten permission from you first, Sir." He didn't apologise, but acknowledged he had gone outside the usual chain of command.

Jesse just shook his head, waving the concern away with a hand. "It's fine. Let them blow off some steam. To be clear, it wasn't a punishment. In fact, it wasn't even personal. It was the opposite...it was just the luck of the draw. But I guess that might feel even worse, hm?" he shook his head with a frown as he looked to the ground. He remembered what it felt like to be young and feeling like he had no control over his own life.

Jace watched him, his jaw tight for a moment before he nodded. He knew the luck of the draw. Rarely was it for any good reason. So what if Rourke's temper would get him in trouble, or Voss's heart would be too gentle for some of the things MPs had to do. File didn't show that. File didn't show the work that had been put into the squad. And now two members were rotated out. Replacements would come. Was it fair? No. But then again, fairness wasn't something Jace Morven attributed to life. Orders were orders. You either obeyed them or you walked away knowing it was the end. "If it doesn't work, they'll be cycled back. Maybe not in the same platoon, but still Ground Forces."

Jesse took a deep breath to bring himself back to the present, nodding as he looked to him with sincere, dark eyes. "Or if they get more experienced MPs over here. And we'll fight for them to return to the fold if that time comes," he assured firmly.

Jace gave a nod of acknowledgement of the words. He closed his hand into a fist for a moment. "We'll get replacements soon. Brass are good at moving people quick." But as he said it, he looked at Jesse for confirmation. Hoping that he was right, that the squad wouldn't be two people short.

Jesse gave a brisk nod of reassurance, crossing his arms over his chest as he let out a slight sigh. "You might not want to let them know that too soon though," he added quietly.

Jace blinked at that, giving a nod. "Copy that," he said quietly, although his mind was already thinking logistics. "I'll rethink some drills...it doesn't hurt a squad learn to fit in the holes." He met his eyes, searching them briefly. "You came to check on me, Sir?"

"I knew it wouldn't be easy," Jesse replied honestly, taking a moment to look the stoic man over. "I also knew you wouldn't let on that it wasn't easy."

"It shouldn't matter," Jace said, after a moment. And then he exhaled, slowly, a look of confusion coming to him. "I don't know why it bothers me." A half-truth. It had brought a familiar feeling to him, one he had missed. Now, there was fragile ground again. Each step had to be measured. His eyes went to Jesse, watching him. "Not had an officer care enough to show up before."

"Well, I care about you...and you care about them, which is why it matters," Moriarty shrugged, as if it were that simple. And to the man who had served in both the Maquis and the Federation Ground Forces, it was. "Which is just as well. Why bother doing something that doesn't matter?"

Jace watched him, confusion still flickering behind his eyes. There was a weight in his chest that he didn't know what to do with. He swallowed, gaze dropping as he tried to process it. No words came. Just silence and breath. "I don't know," he said at last. "Sometimes...just doing the thing is something to do. Direction. Orders."

"And easier," Moriarty agreed with a nod, understanding all too well as he let out a long breath. "No thinking or feeling or second guessing. Let someone else make the calls and just...tick boxes off the to do list. But there might come a time when the 'why' matters too, not just the 'what'."

Jace nodded, slowly, thinking about a time where the what had ended up being something that he couldn't stomach. He looked at Moriarty for a moment, tilting his head. "It's why we got you, Sir," he finally said, and there was a brief tug at the corner of his lips. "To let us know the why."

Jesse arched an eyebrow for a moment. Had Jace....almost smiled? If he was right, that could well be one of his greatest achievements to date. "Well, the one thing you can be sure of is that I'd never lie to you. I just can't be bothered with it."

"I wouldn't necessarily know if you were," Jace said before he nodded. He let out a breath and some of the tension seemed to drain from his posture. He closed his eyes with it, rolled his shoulders for a moment. "Appreciate the check in, Sir."

"Anytime, Jace," Moriarty assured, slapping his upperarm in a comradely fashion before leaving him to it. He briefly wondered if he'd ever break through the man's armour. If he had what it took as his CO, or a friend.

---

Sergeant Jace Morven
Platoon Sergeant, Alpha Squad
Federation Ground Forces
USS Guinevere

&

Lt. Colonel Jesse Moriarty
CO Federation Ground Forces
USS Guinevere

RSS Feed