"...Whoever brewed this should be shot," Mike muttered in agreement as he took a sniff and then took to holding his own cup of coffee at arm's length. It was chance that he'd overheard anyone, and even then, it took him a moment to realise that was Yancy Becket.

"Or at least taken to medbay to see if they lost their sense of taste in the war or something."

He'd come in on the bus with the newest batch of cadets, but he was much more a contemporary of Yancy and Raleigh. There was just a break of a few years between when he'd finished classes and when he finally showed up to be assigned.

But now, after this bit of commiseration, he offered his free hand for a handshake. "Mike Traceur. Nice to meet you."