The turbo lift opened, kershiffffff, and Lieutenant Robbins entered. "Deck 18," he said. His face was bruised and battered.

Ensign Martin, the only other occupant in the lift, shared a small knowing smile. They never went to the Infirmary. Never used dermal regenerators. They wore their bruises as badges of honor.

"Jeez," Robbins muttered without looking up. "That Ensign Tyler Durden really packs a mean punch."

Martin leaned against the wall, streaks of light pulsing past as they passed each deck. "Yeah, he's a maniac."

"You don't think our new little cult leader is, uh, you know, a little wacko?"

"Naw." Robbins rubbed his chin. "He just likes to fight. Must be part Klingon without the crab shell head."

"The first day I met him, he told me... get this. He called me a maggot. I mean, I outrank the little chump. We were walking the upper scaffold in Engineering. I said, what's that Ensign? He said I'm nothing special. That I'm not a beautiful or unique snowflake."

"He's right, you know."

"Yeah, but the thing is, my mom always used to call me her unique little snowflake. I grew up on Pura Penthe, you know. Cold as hell there"

Martin chortled. "Are you kidding me? I am Jack's complete lack of surprise."

"No, really." Robbins stared back absently. "Snowflake."

"By the way, Pura Penthe is technically an astroid."

Robbins frowned. "You're an ass-droid."

The turbo lift slowed and opened onto Deck 18.

"We have arrived, Lieutenant Snowflake," Martin said, bowing with an arm outstretched to the hallway. "Welcome to the Holodeck Suite. Time to rip you a new black hole."

"We'll see about that," Robbins replied, smacking a fist into his palm. "Bam!"