"Aye, Captain."
Devereux glanced around the bridge, seeing all of her officers at their stations, looking ready. "Helm," she said. "Engage aft thrusters. Bring us to one-half.”
“Aye, Captain,” the vulpine helmsman acknowledged. “Aft thrusters. Accelerating to one-half.”
Devereux tapped the intercom control. “Engineering,” she said. “Prepare to engage for slipstream.”
Rusty’s cheerful baritone sounded over the speaker. “We’re ready here, Cap’n.”
This time, Devereux barely managed to keep her bemused smile to herself. The air was filled with sounds of equipment operating and muted reports coming from various stations throughout the ship.
“We’ve cleared the station,” Pyrafox reported, glancing at the forward screen as if to confirm it for himself.
"Take us out of the system, Lieutenant,” Devereux told him. “Increase speed to full power.”
Devereux was certain that she could see Pryafox smile at her order.
“Aye, Captain,” he responded immediately. “Increasing thrusters to full power.”
“Prepare to engage slipstream once we're clear."
"On what course?" Pyrafox asked without turning around. His hands were busy at the helm controls, his eyes darting between the status display on his console and the main view screens.
"I’ll let you know as soon I've received confirmation," Devereux replied.
Pyrafox nodded. "Aye, Captain."
Devereux settled back in her chair. Even at full power, it would be several minutes before they were clear enough of the planetary gravity wells in order to engage the slipstream engines. She expected at any moment to hear Rusty’s voice come over the intercom announcing that they had blown some gasket or junction somewhere on the ship.
The speaker, however, remained silent and Devereux sighed with satisfaction that them the team who had completed the refit had done a first-rate job of it. She made a mental note to thank Carlos the next time she spoke to him.
“We’re clear, Captain,” Pyrafox reported.
“Set course for Aldrin station, Lieutenant,” Devereux instructed him. “We’ll be picking up the rest of our crew and . . .,” she paused to take a short breath, “our new Medical Officer.”
She could not fight back the hollow sense of loss at that announcement. People moved on. There were always new assignments and responsibilities. That was the way of life when one served in the Fleet. Hope was no different.
Despite that rationalization, Devereux found that it did little to ease the hollow sense of loss she felt at Hope’s absence. She had been able to keep herself busy enough during the final preparations for launch that she had managed to ignore it, but now it returned
Into the intercom, she said, “Engineering, prepare to engage for slipstream.”
“Ready here, Cap’n,” came Rusty’s prompt reply.
“Stand by.”
Devereux waited while Pyrafox’s hands played over this console.
“Course ready, Captain,” he reported a few moments later.
Devereux stared at the star-speckled panorama presented on the bridge’s main screens.
“Engineering,” she said. Her voice was firm and confident. “Engage slipstream core.”
She felt the deep thrum of power as the ship—her ship—shifted into superluminal velocity. Her voice was barely audible.
“Let’s go get ‘em.”
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