Emerald Flight: Star Wing

- 1 -

Captain Christine Devereux was bored. It would never do for her to allow her crew to know it, but she was certain that many of them shared her state of mind.

There are only so many drills you can run, and so much maintenance you can do, but they realize you’re just looking for ways to fill the time.

She, herself, had spent more than three straight hours completing administrative paperwork that, despite having Elizabeth as her Executive Officer now, she knew that only she could do. It was repetitive, mind-numbing, and she had reached the limit of her tolerance for it for the time being.

One of the advantages of being the Captain, and ostensibly on duty twenty-four hours a day, was that she could leave the ship in command of another senior officer and leave the bridge during her scheduled shift hours. As she well knew, she was always just an intercom call away.

Devereux rose from her chair. “Lieutenant Hawkes,” called her to Tactical Officer. “You have the bridge.”

“Yes, Captain.”

His acknowledgement was sharp and immediate. Devereux wondered, not for the first time, whether the man ever got bored or tired.

He’s an android, she thought, again not for the first time. I know it.

“I’ll be in my quarters,” she added, moving away from the command station. “And then Cargo Hold One.”

Hawkes nodded. Devereux could almost see him mentally calculating the approximate times when she would arrive in each location. Fighting an urge to shake her head with bemusement, she left the bridge.

Twenty-three minutes later she was in the ship’s makeshift gymnasium. Although it had been tempting to just remain in her cabin, she reasoned that heading to the gymnasium as she had planned had three distinct advantages: it was something to do, it would force her to get some exercise, and it would get her away from the personnel reports for a while.

The intercom chimed a little more than halfway through her fourth mile on the treadmill. Hawkes’ faintly accented voice came over the speaker.

“Captain, this is the bridge.”

Without slowing, she reached over and tapped the control on the bulkhead in front of her.

“Yes, Lieutenant?”

This had better be good. If he’s just calling to report a drop in the drill response times, I’ll have him on sanitation maintenance for a month.

“Captain,” Hawkes replied. “Our long-range sensors are picking up a series of small objects to starboard just at the range of our instruments.”

Is it my imagination? Or is there a hint of excitement in that man’s voice?

“Asteroids?”

“Impossible to confirm at this distance, Captain.”

“How long will we be in range?”

There was a brief pause before Hawkes answered. Devereux guessed that he was checking with Pyrafox at the helm or Elizabeth at the main Science station.

“Approximately twenty-two minutes.”

Devereux considered this for a moment. Something currently just at the range of their sensors would mean a significant change in their course heading. Still, she thought, they could make up the time easily, if necessary.

It’s not as though anyone is expecting us to be anywhere any time soon.

“Maintain current course and speed for now,” she ordered them. “I’m on my way.”

She took a cautious sniff of herself as she stopped the treadmill and jumped from the platform. While her personal aroma could hardly be mistaken for a field of flowers, she did not believe that it would be overwhelmingly offensive. In any case, there was not enough time to shower and make it to the bridge in twenty-two minutes.

When she arrived on the bridge, she found Hawkes standing near the helm console. The left of the three main bridge displays showed a computer-enhanced image of the data being captured by the starboard long-range sensor array.

“Still no better guess?” she asked as she moved toward them.

She saw Pyrafox’s vulpine nose wrinkle as she approached. She offered him a silent apology.

“No, Captain,” Hawkes reported. “But there is definitely mass of some kind out there.”

“Nothing on any the charts?”

“No, sir,” the helmsman responded. “But this area has only been very lightly explored.”

Devereux frowned, trying to make sense out of the false-color images on the screen. Nothing about it looked familiar to her, nor was her intuition screaming for attention. It niggled at her faintly, but then it often did that whenever they encountered anything new and unknown.

“Helm,” Devereux announced. “Change our course to intercept.”

“Aye, Captain,” Pyrafox responded.

His fingers danced over his console. Devereux was certain that she heard the faint click-click of his claws as they moved across its surface.

“Course change completed, Captain.”

“ETA?”

“We should be within nominal sensor range in eighty-six minutes,” Hawkes reported.

There was an audible sniff from the direction of the helm station. Devereux managed to suppress most of a smile.

“Lieutenant Hawkes,” she said, turning to the Tactical Officer. “You have the bridge—again. I’ll be back shortly.”

“Yes, Captain.”

Devereux turned and headed for the main hatchway that led off the bridge. She was not certain, but she thought she heard Pyrafox breathe a faint sigh of relief at her departure.

I’ll remember that the next time we’re caught in a rainstorm on some distant planet, Lieutenant, Devereux thought with wry amusement. Once out in the corridor, she permitted herself a quiet chuckle as she headed back to her quarters.