The ship slammed out of slipstream. Devereux was not sure how she had prevented herself from being flung to the deck, but she had somehow managed the feat. The ship had stopped shuddering. She mentally forced herself to pry her fingers from the arms of her chair. They felt cramped from the strain as their grip was eased.
The glowing pinpoints of emergency lighting cast harsh shadows around the bridge where they penetrated. Nearly all of the stations were dark. Sharp-lined silhouettes moved among the shadows, but Devereux was not certain which crew members they represented. Fortunately absent was the glow of fires or electrical flares.
She was about to call out when she the main lighting returned at nearly its normal brightness. A quick glance around told Devereux that no one among her bridge crew seemed seriously injured. The ensign standing near one of the sensor stations rubbed absently at her hip, but did not appear to be suffering serious discomfort.
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