Soldiers of Fortune by Joshua Dalzelle

"Oh... that. Crusher claimed that the crest on his forehead was the hardest substance in the known universe... I didn't believe him, so I hit him with one of the empty bottles to see for myself," Kage was still slurring his words badly and wobbling on his legs. Jason knew he didn't have long before the diminutive alien passed out. "So, after a few more bottles, I wanted to try something more solid. I hit him with one of the supports from the broken chair... but I missed and accidentally ," he stressed the word to Crusher, "hit him in the side of the face. He stumbled and fell back. That's what flipped the couch over."
     
                  "So why are you hurt?"
     
                  "I slipped in spilled booze and hit my face on the floor trying to check on him. After he started snoring I figured he was fine," Kage finished.
     
                  "Crusher... is this what happened to the best of your recollection?" Jason asked, now trying very hard not to laugh. Crusher simply nodded, still glaring at Kage. "Alright. We have a meeting tomorrow about another high paying job with the same client that hired us this time. You two: go to bed. Doc, could you check on Twingo please?"
     
                  "Of course," Doc was already moving towards the doorway as the other two stumbled off to their respective rooms. Lucky was standing in the middle of the common area seeming somewhat stunned.
     
                  "So this is how they were having fun?" he asked, bewildered.
     
                  "They thought so at the time. I've been there more than once myself," Jason said as he punched a few commands into the touchpanel on the wall by the bar. A few moments later a trio of cleaning bots rolled in through the service entrance of the suite and began addressing the mess. Even they seemed taken aback by the amount of damage. "Just clean up the glass and fluids," he said to them directly. "I'll worry about the furniture later." He got a couple soft beeps in reply and they set to work. Jason walked around them and made his way to the bar, he had been so focused on business during the reception he had declined to have a drink himself. Now he wanted one very badly after seeing the carnage from his misbehaving crew.
                  After more than a year of working in space Jason's gastrointestinal system could handle about anything he threw at it, but that didn't always mean he liked the taste. He discovered that a simple smell test could narrow things down quite a bit, so he set about sniffing all the bottles of brown liquid, looking for anything resembling whiskey. He hit pay dirt with a decanter of a light brown liquid that had a nice vanilla/smoky aroma and tasted like a fine Canadian whiskey. Now that's more like it. He poured a liberal shot in a short glass over ice and leaned back, watching the efficient little cleaning crew finish up their task. He looked up as Doc walked out.
     
                  "He's fine. Going to be very sore and very hungover tomorrow, though," Doc said as he made his own way to the bar and started shuffling though bottles as well. Now that they were alone, the dam broke and Jason broke into near uncontrollable laughter. It was apparently infectious as Doc also giggled, then started laughing so hard tears were coming from his eyes. Lucky watched the two with the same bemused expression he usually had when he simply didn't understand the behavior of his biological friends.
     
                  "Were you planning on any sort of discipline?" Doc asked when he could finally catch his breath. Jason thought on it for a moment. Omega Force wasn't a military unit, the glue that held it together was mutual respect, trust, and a sense of purpose. If, as Captain, he began dispensing punishment haphazardly he would quickly create an Us versus Them (or Us versus Him ) mentality. But beyond that, he considered each crew member