Emerald Flight: “Star Wing” (continued)

“Yes, Captain?” she answered as smartly as she could manage. “What did you say?”

“Nothing,” Devereux repiled, studying her carefully. “exactly.”

“Oh,” Elizabeth said, almost too softly to hear. “I’m sorry, Captain. I’m . . . I’m worried about the Chief.”

Devereux’s expression softened and yet also became serious. That makes two of us, is what Elizabeth thought she would say. Instead, the Captain responded with, “I understand.”

Her eyes darted toward the main hatch for a moment before turning back to Elizabeth.

“Hope will let us know when she has something to report,” Devereux went on. “For now, I need you to do your job.”

Elizabeth’s face tingled again. “Yes, sir.”

Devereux looked at the main bridge displays and then over toward Gho at the Science station.

“Who’s in charge in Engineering?”

It took Elizabeth a moment to realize that the Captain was addressing her.

“The Ch—“ she cut off her automatic response, looking down at the tablet she carried before anyone could see her reaction. She consulted the duty roster before answering. “Lieutenant Aruna, sir.”

Devereux nodded slowly. “Ask her to assign a team to monitor the starboard sensor junctions. I don’t want us to miss anything if something happens with those lines.”

“Yes, Captain.” Elizabeth entered the appropriate orders onto her tablet and then looked back up at Devereux. “Anything else, Captain?”

Devereux thought for a moment before answering.

“Not right now,” she said. “Return to your duties.”

“Yes, sir.”

Elizabeth swallowed hard. Taking a firm grip on her tablet, she once again began her circuit of the bridge.

#

Rusty paused in the corridor outside the infirmary, trying to decide whether he should head back to the bridge or return to Engineering. If he went to the bridge, he could not report much more than what Hope had told him. In fact, he could probably tell them even less, for he had barely understood what she had been going on about. From what he had gleaned, his brains appeared to be producing extra Gamma waves. As they had not seemed to have granted him telepathic or telekinetic powers, his interest had pretty much ended there.

Engineering, he decided. Fewer questions.

Word of his trip to the infirmary had probably already circulated among the crew, but it would be a lot easier for him to deflect those on the Engineering Deck than on the bridge.

He noticed then that the two Security guards were gone.

Emerald Flight: “Star Wing” (continued)

- 4 -

Elizabeth walked the bridge, trying to ignore the cold sensation of dampness between her shoulder blades. The collar of her uniform adhered with clammy wetness against her skin. She had given up try to pull it away. She just wished she could have ten minutes with a hair dryer.

Status reports from the various stations throughout the ship appeared on the tablet she held. Other than on the bridge, things appeared routine through the ship. Until they were close enough to actually enter the main body of the cloud, there was little else beyond their usual jobs for anyone else to do.

The Captain had come back down from the command, apparently surrendering to her urge to be closer to where the action was happening. She paced a slow circuit between the helm and main Science station. Neither Pyrafox nor Gho had anything interesting yet to report. Elizabeth could tell, though, that they were both growing increasingly nervous under the Captain’s constant attention. She suppressed a tiny smile at the sight, silently glad that Captain Devereux’s attention was on someone else for a little while.

I can’t believe I was late. I’m never late.

That had been true even at the Academy, although it had been a near thing on more than a few occasions—particularly the morning that she had slipped in the rain crossing the quad from the dormitories, sending her tablets and other materials skidding across the wide puddles. Commander Atchison had given her no sympathy, and had seemed genuinely irked that she could not grant Elizabeth at least one demerit for tardiness. The last Elizabeth had heard, Commander Ilsa Atchison was still terrifying second-year cadets in both intermediate quantum mathematics and championship volleyball.

Her eyes kept drifting back toward the main hatch. Some part of her kept expecting the Chief to walk back through that hatchway. She had seen him escorted away by the two guards, followed by Hope, and now they waited.

“Elizabeth?”

Devereux’s voice interrupted her reverie.

Elizabeth’s cheeks burned with embarrassed.

Twice in the same day? I’m going to be back on reclamation maintenance before mid-shift.

Emerald Flight: “Star Wing” (continued)

Hope entered, letting the hatch close behind her.

“Bed Four,” she instructed them, moving toward one of the starboard cabinets.

Although all of the diagnostic beds were essentially the same, she had equipped Bed Four for more detailed neurological diagnosis. One thing she had learned during her first voyage on this ship was the myriad ways in which the wide variety of spatial phenomenon could affect the human brain. She was now also better equipped to deal with human birthing as well. However, she suspected the likelihood that she would need to use either the equipment or the knowledge was low.

The two Security personnel moved in closer to the Chief Engineer. He appeared to ignore them, stepping forward before they approached him. Standing next to the diagnostic bed, he surveyed the different displays as Hope brought them online.

“The Cap’n wants you to make sure I really have a brain in there?” the Chief Engineer snickered.

He stood beside the bed for a moment and then lifted himself onto it. Parts of its metal structure creaked as he settled more comfortably onto its pad. He looked toward the ceiling, seeming uncharacteristically calm and composed. The two Security guards stepped back, taking positions between the Chief Engineer and the hatchway.

“Remain still,” Hope instructed him.

“I’ll do my best not to boogie too much.”

Hope regarded the Chief Engineer for several moments, but he remained motionless. This behavior added to her uneasiness. Despite his customary quips to the contrary, he was being far too compliant. After giving him one more look, she activated the diagnostic scanners.

They reported some results immediately.

Respiration normal.

Pulse slightly elevated.

Blood pressure slightly elevated.

The latter two readings did not surprise her. Although than normal, they were not significantly out of range based on previous medical scans of the Chief Engineer. Still, Hope noted them in her log. It was still data and might prove useful later.

The preliminary blood scans showed no traces of any restricted pharmaceutical substances. This both surprised and frustrated Hope. She had not expected to find any, but their presence would have helped to explain the Chief Engineer’s unusual behavior. It meant the cause was something else entirely.

She waited for additional reports. These scans involved deeper analyses of the Chief Engineer’s body functions, measuring factors such as hormonal levels and tissue density, and would require more time to complete. Hope looked at the Chief Engineer, but he remained uncharacteristically still and silent. She looked back at the readouts just as the next set of results began to appear.

Hope studied each one with increasing incredulity. There was not a single deviation from any the Chief Engineer’s previously recorded medical scans that would account for his unusual behavior. If anything, there was a marked improvement in several of them as his body began to repair itself after years of chemical abuse. All that remained now, was the results of the deep neurological scans—and Hope was rapidly losing confidence that those would reveal anything useful.

The diagnostic indicator flashed blue, signaling that the neurological scans had been completed and the results processed. Hope noted without surprise that variations among the different bands fell well within both established norms and those previously recorded for the Chief Engineer . . . except for one.

“What is it?” the Chief Engineer asked, breaking her concentration. “What’d you find, Doc?”

Hope looked up at him, said nothing, and then turned her eyes back to the display. The Chief Engineer turned his head but, unable to see the display clearly from that vantage point, sat up and peered at the diagnostic readouts.

“Good thing my engine outputs don’t look like that,” he remarked, “Or we’d be spinning in circles.” He studied the graphs more closely. “Or in lots of little pieces.”

Hope said nothing, but continued to stare at the diagnostic display. The graphs showed a distinctive spike in the Chief Engineer’s Gamma band.

“Okay, Doc,” the Chief Engineer said. “Want to tell me what we’re looking at?”

“Gamma,” Hope said.

The Chief Engineer peered at the graphs on the display, clearly without comprehension. “Which means . . . what?” he asked with clear irritation. “I’m doing turn big and green and nasty the next time someone ticks me off?”

Hope turned to face the Chief Engineer.

“No.”

“That’s a relief,” he replied, grinning back at her. “I don’t look good in green.”

Hope said nothing, failing to understand either his meaning or the cause for his sudden amusement. She was nearly certain that her response had not prompted it. His eyes widened suddenly with realization.

“You don’t know what it means either,” he announced. His grin widened. “Do you?”

Hope regarded him for a long moment. His eyes continued to study her expression, although she was reasonably certain that it revealed nothing.

“No,” she admitted. Her voice, normally soft, was barely more than a whisper. “I do not.”

The Chief Engineer burst out laughing. Hope turned quickly to the medical monitors, but none of them signaled that he was in any distress. All she could do was wait until he regained a measure of control, although his grin never went away completely.

“You really don’t know what it means?”

“I do not,” she repeated. “I will research.”

“I’m sure you will,” the Chief Engineer chuckled. He slid from the table. His boots banged against deck, echoing in the infirmary chamber. “Is there any reason you can think of I can’t return to duty?”

Hope studied him critically. His behavior, while needlessly boisterous, was not atypical. Based on the results of the scans, she had no medical reason to detain him. The spikes in his brain’s Gamma waves were not justification enough—at least not sufficient that she wished to tolerate his presence while she conducted her research.

“No,” she answered finally.

The Chief Engineer grinned with triumph.

“You will return,” Hope said firmly, “when I inform the Captain.”

“You do that.”

Hope held the Chief Engineer’s gaze for a long moment. She was the one who looked away, turning to face one of the Security personnel.

“He may depart.”

The Security guard nodded her understanding and stepped back, clearing the way to the hatchway. The Chief Engineering strode past her, seeming to be in no hurry.

“Doctor,” the other Security guard said courteously, and then turned and followed the Chief Engineer and the first Security guard out of the infirmary.

Hope watched the hatch close, and wondered what she was going to tell the Captain.

Emerald Flight: “Star Wing” (continued)

The Chief’s eyes moved to Elizabeth and then fixed on Hope. Hawke’s fingers poised above the security alert signal.

The Chief Engineer smiled, but Hawkes saw no signs that he intended to attack Hope or bolt for one of the hatchways. He continued to smile, the familiar bright twinkle returning to his eyes.

“I think you miss me, Doc.”

Hope stared back at him silently. Her large dark eyes revealed nothing. Devereux nodded once to her and then inclined her head in the direction of the main hatch.

“Come,” Hope said.

She waited for him to move in the direction of the hatchway. The Chief Engineer waited for only a moment, and then headed for the bridge’s main hatch. When it opened before him, he paused and looked back at Hawkes.

“For me?” he said, grinning with clear amusement. “You shouldn’t have.”

He stepped into the corridor, the two security personnel falling in behind him. After a moment, he stopped and turned around.

“Whatcha waiting for, Doc?” he called out. “The Captain doesn’t have all day.”

Devereux exchanged a look with Hope that Hawkes could not interpret. Hope stared back at the Captain for a long moment before turning away and leaving the bridge. Hawkes raised his hands away from his console and looked at the Captain. Her expression betrayed her concern as she watched Hope depart and the hatch close behind the Medical Officer.

Devereux glanced for only a moment at the main bridge displays before turning and returning up the ramp to the command deck. Hawkes regarded her for a moment, and then turned his attention back to his console. He keyed the security monitors so he could follow the Chief Engineer’s progress to the infirmary, to ensure that he actually arrived there.

#

Hope trailed the Chief Engineer and his two Security escorts. She had been surprised by the Tactical Officer’s signal. His message had been brief and vague, giving her little other information than that the situation was potentially critical and she needed to report to the bridge immediately. She had done so, and was still not clear on what had transpired there. Clearly, there was an issue involving the Chief Engineer, but she had witnessed nothing that deviated significantly from his typical behavior. She would follow the Captain’s orders, of course, hoping that doing so might provide her with some answers.

She still held the medical scanner in her hand. The readings that it had produced her troubled her, not so much from that data that it had reported, as it did from what it had not shown her. After they reached the infirmary, she could conduct more detailed physiological and neurological tests that might explain what the portable scanner had reported.

When they reached the infirmary, the two Security personnel stopped outside the hatch and waited for her open it. One took a position on each side of the Chief Engineer with one hand resting openly on their weapon. Hope completed the security procedure quickly and efficiently, standing aside as one of the guards pushed open the hatch. The other one, using nothing more than his physical presence, ushered the Chief Engineer inside.

Emerald Flight: “Star Wing” (continued)

Devereux moved closer to the main Science station.

“Anything new?” she asked Gho.

The lieutenant checked her console before shaking her head. “Nothing, Captain,” she reported. “We’re still too far out.”

Devereux nodded, frowning slightly. She looked over toward the Chief Engineer, but he seemed to have no reaction to Gho’s report. Her mouth moved as if she were about to speak, but was interrupted by the sound of the main hatch opening.

Hope entered, carrying a medical case. Hawkes noted with satisfaction the two Security personnel that flanked her, but remained outside the hatch, taking positions of each side of the hatchway.

“Hope,” Devereux said. It was almost a breath of relief.

“Captain.”

“Hey, Doc!” Rusty called out without turning away from the bridge displays.

Devereux’s eyes directed Hope toward Rusty. Hope placed her case down on a nearby console and removed a portable medical scanner. For several moments, no one spoke. Hope finished her scan of the Chief Engineer and, although she said nothing, Hawkes noticed that she appeared to be startled by something the scanner had shown her. It had been only the most subtle change in the Aerian physician’s expression, but Hawkes was certain that he had seen it.

The Captain appeared to have noticed it as well.

“Chief,” she said, sounding reasonable, but firm. “I want you to go with Hope back to the infirmary.”

Rusty did not respond, nor did he move for several moments. Finally, he turned slowly around. He regarded Hope critically, as if he had never seen her before.

Although Hawkes saw nothing belligerent in the Chief’s manner, he held his fingers over the control that would summon the guards waiting out in the corridor. Hawkes noticed subtle changes in the Captain’s posture. She, it appeared, also waited for the Chief Engineer to protest or resist.

“Chief,” Hope addressed him flatly.

Rusty looked down at the scanner in her hand. Awareness seemed to dawn on him.

“You think I’ve finally gone space happy, don’t cha?”

“Chief,” she repeated. It was a command, not a plea.

The Chief Engineer met her eyes. Elizabeth shifted awkwardly on her feet. Devereux’s throat moved as she swallowed, but she remained resolute.

Emerald Flight: “Star Wing” (continued)

“There’s something out there,” he murmured, loud enough to be heard.

Devereux looked over at Elizabeth, whose mouth tightened into an frown.

“Yes there is,” Devereux agreed, trying to sound calmly reasonable.

She noticed a change in the Chief Engineer’s posture. The muscles along his back and shoulders appeared to relax. Not certain whether to take this as a positive sign or a warning, she wished could get to the intercom and alert Hope without alarming Rusty. She caught Elizabeth’s attention and directed her eyes toward the intercom controls on the Science station. Elizabeth nodded almost imperceptibly and then turned her eyes back toward Rusty.

“That’s what it is,” he announced, sounding surprisingly lucid and relieved.

“What is, Chief?”

“That,” Rusty replied, nodding toward the screens. “It wasn’t the ship at all.”

Devereux’s expression tightened with concern. Looking toward Elizabeth again, her First Officer just gave a faint shrug.

“Chief,” Devereux said, calmly. “I don’t suppose you’d be interested in telling us what you’re talking about?”

Rusty continued to stare at the main bridge displays. Devereux wondered if he had not heard her, then he turned around. He looked like a different man from the befuddled one who had wandered onto the bridge. Although his grin appeared genuine, Devereux remained unconvinced that there was not something else going on with her Chief Engineer.

Rusty regarded her for a long moment, glanced at Elizabeth, and then back to Devereux. His grin faded, making him seem somehow less menacing.

“It was out there,” he said, smiling happily. “It was out there.”

“What was, Chief?” Elizabeth asked gently.

Rusty turned to her, still smiling, but his eyes reflected his seriousness.

“I don’t know.”

#

Hawkes watched the Chief Engineer carefully. Although the man appeared intoxicated, Hawkes found himself surprised . . . and not quite ready to accede to that explanation. To his knowledge, Chief Rayna had ceased his usage of unauthorized medications ever since returning to the ship. For him to regress now was too great a coincidence for Hawke to readily accept.

He had seen the Captain and Elizabeth exchange a number of meaningful glances. Based on the direction that their eyes moved, Hawkes concluded that their intent had been to reach the intercom. They could not without attracting the Chief Engineer’s attention, so Hawkes had keyed a silent request for medical assistance on the bridge. He also instructed a security team to stand by, but to not enter the bridge without orders to do so.

Emerald Flight: “Star Wing” (continued)

The main hatch opened and Elizabeth entered. Devereux turned to look, watching as Elizabeth appeared to nearly stumble over the hatchway. She also seemed to be slightly out of breath, but struggled to hide it. Devereux fought back a smile.

“Nice of you to join us, Lieutenant . . .” she paused, seeing her First Officer’s light-skinned cheeks grow pink. “. . . Commander.”

To her credit, Devereux noted, Elizabeth met her eyes. The young officer was less than two minutes late, but the light-hearted teasing would ease the general tension—and probably ensure that the Elizabeth would not arrive even remotely tardy for a duty shift for weeks to come.

Like you’ve never overslept . . .

“I’m sorry, Captain,” Elizabeth said, standing straight and nearly at attention. “I was—”

The hatch opened again, interrupting her, and Rusty stepped inside. Devereux reacted with surprise, not having expected the Chief Engineer to make an appearance.

“Is there something wrong, Chief?”

Rusty turned to look at her and seemed, for a moment, to have trouble focusing on her.

Damn. He’d better not be—

“I don’t know yet,” Rusty replied. His words came out as a kind of loud mumble, not slurred exactly, but definitely the indication of a distracted man.

Devereux and Elizabeth exchanged a glance. Elizabeth moved closer to Rusty. He seemed unaware of her until nearly the last moment, when he stepped forward, staring at the main bridge displays.

“What’s going on?”

Devereux and Elizabeth exchanged another look. They both knew that the Chief had been briefed when the course was made.

“We’re entering scanning range of the debris cloud,” Devereux said, trying sound as matter-of-fact as possible.

Rusty nodded as if he understood.

“Anything yet?”

Devereux looked toward the main Science station and caught Gho’s eye. The science officer shook her head.

“Nothing new yet, sir,” she said. “It still appears to be a collection of rocks.”

Rusty made a thoughtful sound, his eyes never leaving the main screens.

Emerald Flight: “Star Wing” (continued)

Rusty’s eyes turned upward and surveyed the ceiling, the equivalent of two decks above him. It was covered in a maze of tubes cabling, most of which were accessed from the deck above. He had not thought to study it before.

“Sandersen!”

It took a moment, but then a male voice answered him from across the wide space of the deck.

“Yes, Chief?”

Rusty continued to stare up at the ceiling as he spoke.

“I want a team to inspect every conduit, junction, and vent up there.”

“Right now?” Sandersen’s voice sounded incredulous.

“Right now,” Rusty replied flatly.

His eyes remained pointed toward the ceiling, but there was no change in the nagging sense of uneasiness that drove him. That was not it.

Still, it won’t hurt to check.

He looked down and his gaze quickly swept the Engineering Deck again.

Maybe it’s not here at all.

“I’ll be on the bridge,” he told Aruna, who had come up beside him. “Don’t break anything while I’m gone.”

“I’ll try not to, sir,” she responded softly, sounding far more sincere than was probably necessary.

Rusty did not look at her as he headed for the main hatch.

#

Devereux sat at the command station, trying to review status reports, but unable to keep herself from glancing up at the main bridge displays. Although they would be entering nominal sensor range in only a few more minutes, it would likely be a while after they provided any data came that gave them more information about the mysterious field than they already had. Given the many times of suspense to be had, Devereux was more than willing to accept this kind over that of heading into combat.

Looking up from her desk, she covertly surveyed the other members of the bridge crew. She noted with some satisfaction that few of them was having better success at staying focused than she was. Pyrafox leaned forward in his seat, occasionally making what were probably unnecessary adjustments to the helm controls, as if by willpower alone he could propel the ship ahead more quickly. She even caught Hawkes taking a glance at the trio of large displays. Only Gho appeared to be solely focused on her assigned tasks.

But then she actually has work to do.

Devereux was tempted to ask for an update, but stopped herself.

She’ll report when she had something to report.

Emerald Flight: “Star Wing” (continued)

Rusty prowled the main Engineering Deck, peering into open access panels as his technician tried to work inside them, and generally making a nuisance of himself. The crew was skittery in his presence, and he knew that he was driving morale down right through the deck plates, but he was determined to find out what was not right with this ship.

“Carson,” he said, walking by a thin, blonde-haired crew member, “watch out for that yellow conduit. You’ll short out the aft radiation sensors.”

Carson started and then stared at the activated micro-welder in his left hand, wide-eyed at just how close he had nearly come to severing that conduit. He swallowed hard and then, very slowly and carefully, deactivated the tool and pulled it clear of the junction.

“Thanks, Chief,” he called out, his voice trembling slightly.

Rusty grunted something unintelligible in response, distracting the technician from realizing that he had not actually looked inside the panel.

He noticed that conversations stopped as he approached. Whispers returned as he passed. Both of these just added to his irritation. It was not at all how he liked to run his department, he could not shake the feeling that something was wrong, that ship might be in serious danger.

“Tsu-tao,” Rusty called to the dark-haired technician. “Make sure all the ramscoop feeds are closed and sealed tight before we get too close to . . . whatever this thing is. The last thing we need is to flood the intakes with a bunch of magnetic or irradiated ore.”

“I’m on it, Chief,” the short, but sturdy, engineer replied with a genial smile, making a note on the tablet he carried.

“You’d better be,” Rusty warned him in something that resembled a growl. “Or you’ll be cleaning them out with tweezers.”

Tsu-tao’s smile faded. Swallowing visibly in response to his Chief’s uncharacteristically sour mood, he looked back down at his tablet.

Emerald Flight: “Star Wing” (continued)

Entering her quarters, Elizabeth lifted her left arm experimentally, prepared to feel sharp twinges of pain shoot along her shoulder. Instead, she felt some tightness, but no real discomfort.

That’s good stuff Hope has, she mused with a faint smile. It faded quickly. No wonder the Chief wanted it so bad.

She eyed her bunk, wondering if she dared try to remove her tunic before she lay down. She swung her arm slowly across her body.

It really doesn’t hurt that bad any more. And a little rest wouldn’t hurt. Hope said “light duty” and . . .

Elizabeth’s eyes caught sight of the chronometer on her desk.

Damn it! I’m supposed to be on the bridge in twenty minutes!

Her eyes searched the room for the pieces of her uniform, silently praying that last night had been one when she had bothered hung it up. She located her trousers draped over the side of her chair and held them up, satisfied that they were presentable. Her duty tunic, which she found buried under her pajamas, was a wrinkled mess. She shook it out, but that proved to be of little help.

I could wear my dress uniform . . .

Even as the idea occurred to her, Elizabeth knew that it was a bad one.

No, she told herself. Stupid idea!

Glancing at the chronometer again, she swore again.

Damn it, I still need to shower!

She knew without checking that skipping that step was not an option. Taking a slow breath to calm herself, she considered her options.

I can do that in twenty minutes. She felt her dismay begin to grow again. My hair . . . !

It was stiff with dried perspiration and, she guessed, probably smelled almost as bad as the rest of her.

Damn! Damn! Damn it!

She peeled off her clothing, forgetting about her injured shoulder, and let it fall in a pile on the floor. She palmed on the shower and stepped inside before it had a chance to warm.

Eight minutes later, she emerged, dripping wet and as clean as she could manage. She rubbed viciously at her hair with a towel, feeling its strands tangle, and wondered irritably once again why she liked to wear it long.

She checked the chronometer.

Damn, I won’t have time to brush it now. She swore silently at herself, thinking of the mess she would have to unsnarl after her shift was over. I’ll just have to pull it back . . . and pray.

It was not at all uncommon for her to wear her hair pulled back into a ponytail while on duty, but she usually brushed it out thoroughly first.

She dried the rest of her body, having to return to her back several times as her hair dripped along it. After dressing in her underwear and pants, she attacked her hair again, getting as dry as she could manage with the single towel.

That’s what I get for not doing laundry . . .

After sliding into her tunic, she reached back with her left arm to gather her hair, and then paused when she felt the tight pull of her injured muscles and tendons. It was a two-handed job—there was no way around that—so she gritted her teeth and held tight while her other hand threaded a narrow elastic band. She accomplished the task, while also managing to snap two of her fingers underneath the band.

Waving her abused digits in the air, which did little to appease her damaged shoulder, she darted out into the corridor, nearly colliding with a passing crew member. Apologizing breathlessly, and trying not to look as if she were running, she continued her dash toward the bridge.

Emerald Flight: “Star Wing” (continued)

There was moment of complete silence, filled only by the ambient sounds of the bridge systems. To Devereux’s surprise and approval, it was Elizabeth who reacted first.

“You heard the Captain,” she called out, her voice carrying clearly across the bridge. “All hands to battle stations!”

An instant later, klaxons echoed across the ship. Everyone moved just a little faster and with a bit more purpose. Her lips formed a grim line as Devereux brought up the tactical charts for this sector.

#

“The best we can hope to accomplish,” Devereux said, quick assessing the faces around the tactical platform, “is to provide a distraction—keep them off-balance until the fleet can arrive.”

“That will be . . . challenging,” Hawkes offered.

Devereux glanced over at him with a tight smile that was only half grim. “An understatement.” She turned back toward the others. “We need to be prepared for anything—”

“No pressure there . . .” Rusty murmured just loud enough that he would be overheard.

Devereux shot him a quick glance, which Rusty ignored, before continuing.

“—they might throw at us,” she finished. “We only know that they’re sending a fleet,” she went on. “As yet, we don’t have any reliable intel as to its size, or the type of ships, they’re sending.”

She tapped a control and excerpts from the logs Gennell had sent her showed small embedded displays around the table.

“I’m expecting they’ll send something far heavily,” Devereux said, “as this seems an important enough objective for them.” The corners of her mouth shifted. “At least important enough that they ambushed our own fleet on their way here.”

Everyone standing around the table studied the readouts on the tactical display before them. Elizabeth looked nervous and uneasy.

Understandable, Devereux thought. I hope she can hold it together.

Devereux remembered her first few times as First Officer under combat. She had learned quickly that not everything she had learned in hand-to-hand engagement applied in space warfare.

Although it did give us some good tricks, she recalled, suppressing a small smile. Her eyes returned to Elizabeth for an instant.

She can handle it.

Both antipathy and worry were clear on Rusty’s face. Devereux could see the wheels turning in his head, though, as he thought through the priorities of what his engineering teams might have to deal with.

“I want to make one thing clear,” Devereux addressed them all. “I have no intention of turning this into a suicide mission. If things get too hot, we run.”

She saw Hawke’s posture stiffen slightly. His expression, of course, revealed nothing. Her eyes turned back to Rusty.

He hates this as much as I do, she saw. I wonder if for all the same reasons?

“Chief,” she said, “keep the cores online and ready. I want to be able to jump out of here on a moment’s notice.”

Rusty gave her a tight nod. “Yes, Cap’n.”

Devereux turned to Hope, surprised to see that her eyes too were on the tactical displays. She wondered if the Aerian actually understood what she was seeing.

Maybe, Devereux mused. She’s full of surprises. She had trouble, though, picturing Hope at the Tactical station in Hawke’s place.

“Hope,” she said, studying those dark alien eyes for any signs of, well, anything.

“Be prepared to receive casualties.” She flashed the Aerian medical officer a tight smile. “We’ll try to keep them as few as possible.”

“Yes, Captain.”

“That’s all I have for now,” Devereux announced, studying the faces of those gathered around her for signs of any possible questions. Finding none, she concluded with, “Be prepared to reconvene in an hour in case we get any new information.”

Several silent nods of acknowledgment came from around the table, except for Hawkes who, of course, followed proper protocol.

“Yes, Captain.”

Devereux’s lips moved to form a quick quirk of a smile.

“Assume your stations then. Dismissed.”

Devereux waited, watching as her officers slowly and silently scattered back to their posts throughout the bridge and the rest of the ship.

May the Goddess watch over us all . . .

Emerald Flight: “Star Wing” (continued)

Hope checked the Ensign’s medical record again and then selected a medium-strength analgesic. She pressed. She loaded an injector with in and pressed against the Ensign’s chest, just above the wound. The injector beeped once, emitting a barely audible hiss, and then Hope removed it. Sanchez watched her, still grinding her teeth.

A moment later, Sanchez relaxed, releasing a long, slow breath. Glancing at Gogorsky, she flashed him a quick, relieved smile, and then settled back into the bed’s cushions. Hope turned away and began gathering equipment from one of the cabinets.

“That’s it?” Gogorsky shouted. “That’s all you’re going to do for her?”

When Hope did not immediately respond, he went on, his voice rising, “You don’t care when we’re in pain, do you? We’re all just some sort of alien experiment to you!”

Hope paused and turned back the face Ensign Gogorsky. Her dark eyes fixed on him.

“You will depart.”

Gogorsky stared back at her, blinking in stunned surprise.

“What?”

Hope considered his question for a moment, wondering if perhaps her instruction to him was unclear. She searched her memory for another Human word that might more accurately convey her message.

“Leave.”

Gogorsky’s eyes widened. His mouth opened, but only sputtering noises came out before Sanchez interrupted him.

“Get out, Go-go,” she said, chuckling hoarsely. “I’ll be fine.”

Gogorsky’s mouth closed. His eyes shifted between Sanchez and Hope.

“Okay,” he finally said, his shoulders squaring in a gesture of mock defiance. “But I’ll be back to check on you later.”

He shot one final glare at Hope and then trudged out of the infirmary.

Sanchez breathed another soft chuckle, shaking her head slowly. “I think he’s got a bit of a crush on me,” she told Hope.

Hope paused for a moment, considering the truth of the Ensign’s statement. Gogorsky’s actions were consistent with some of the mating behaviors she had observed among Humans. Whether Ensign Sanchez desired Gogorsky as a mate, Hope was not yet certain.

“Yes.”

Sanchez stared at Hope, trying to read some meaning into the Aerian’s large dark eyes and flat expression. When she found none, she settled back once more and closed her eyes as Hope began to cut away her ruined tunic.

Emerald Flight: “Star Wing” {continued)

Hope stood, engrossed in her examination of the data from her last experiment, despite its clear failure to produce the results she had hoped for, It took a moment to recognize that the insistent buzzing sound was the intercom calling for her attention. She had also failed to notice the blinking alert signal. Feeling a twinge of only mild chagrin, she reached over and lightly tapped the intercom control.

“Infirmary.”

“Doc!” a voice shouted over the speaker. “Sanchez tumbled down a maintenance [] and banged herself pretty bad.”

There was brief delay, filled with a background of unintelligible sounds.

“She’s says she’s all right,” the voice went, hesitating slightly as it added, “but there’s a lot of blood.”

Hope picked up a tablet and linked it to medical monitoring network. It her a moment to determine which “Sanchez” the voice might be referring to, but guessed that it was the one named “Ensign Sheryl Sanchez”, as she was the only one currently assigned to Engineering-related duties. Hope accessed the Sanchez’s medical record and checked the current readings from the Ensign’s embedded physiological monitor.

Pulse rate slightly elevated. Respiration elevated. Blood volume slightly reduced.

While definitely in some discomfort, the Ensign did not appear to be going into shock.

“Bring her,” Hope said.

There was a noticeable pause before the voice returned to the intercom.

“Are you sure?” If Hope interpreted the vocal intonations correctly, the individual sounded both uncertain and incredulous.

“Yes,” Hope said. “Bring her.”

Once again, there was a burst of undecipherable noises.

“Okay,” the voice said. “We’re on our way.” The intercom speaker hissed into silence.

Hope put the tablet down and began shutting down the equipment, placing those she might want to use again soon on low power consumption standby mode. She picked up the tablet again, checked the Ensign’s readings, and headed for infirmary’s main section, letting the lights dim and the hatch close behind her.

She just finished preparing Diagnostic Bed One when the main hatch opened. Through it came the Ensign, supported by a human male wearing maintenance coveralls which hide his rank insignia. Hope was forced to identify him from his facial features, finally deciding that he was Ensign Josef Gogorsky, also a technician assigned to Engineering. Dark stains streaked the front of his coveralls. Hope assumed that it was Ensign Sanchez’s blood.

“Bring her,” Hope said, directing him toward the diagnostic bed.

Sanchez’s face twisted with pain as Gogorsky guided her toward the platform. Her teeth showed brightly as she gritted them together. The front of her tunic was slick was a coating of blood. She released a sharp moan as Gogorsky helped her into the bed.

“Remain still,” Hope instructed the Ensign, and tapped the control to begin the diagnostic scan.

Ensign Gogorsky watched with obvious concern, fidgeting as Sanchez continued breathing rapidly against the pain as the scan was run.

“Doc!” Gogorsky called out sharply. “Can’t you see that she’s in pain?”

Hope quickly glanced at the Ensign’s face, but saw no significant change in it from before.

“Yes.”

Gogorsky’s eyes widened, the change in his posture adding to the expression of his incredulity.

“Aren’t you going to give her something?”

Sanchez’s eyes also watched Hope as they waited for her to respond.

“Yes,” Hope replied.

Some of the tension on Sanchez’s face eased away.

“When scan is complete.”

Gogorsky’s hands and arms moved in a motion that she could not identify. Hope assumed it was a physical expression of his frustration. She ignored it. Based on established medical protocol, she would not administer an analgesic of any kind until the type and severity of the injury was determined. This might displease Gogorsky, and prolong Sanchez’s discomfort, but such caution was required,

The instruments connected to the diagnostic bed completed their evaluation and alerted Hope that the results of the scan was ready. She studied them quickly, confirming what she had surmised on her own: the Ensign had suffered a deep laceration along the anterior thorax, penetrating the pectoralis major. The ribs had prevented any damage to the organs beneath them. Had she suffered the same injury, Hope considered, it might have proven fatal. The skeletal structure that supported and protected her torso was much less durable.

She quickly considered the sequence of treatment, knowing that if she continued to delay treatment, there was a high likelihood that the Ensign would go into shock. Hope had found humans to be surprisingly resilient, even after suffering severe—and even life-threatening—injuries. There was a wide variation among human responses, she had learned, though.

Emerald Flight: “Star Wing” (continued)

Even though their sensors detected no other vessels in the immediate area, Hawkes was certain that they were being monitored in some fashion. If their survey of the anomalous objects turned up anything interesting, this previously neglected region of space might become a focus of great attention.

Hawkes brought up the updated chart for this area of space on one of his tactical displays. What he saw did not surprise him: the region was essentially empty space for several light years in all directions. Without any large astronomical bodies present to create hazardous gravitational effects, incoming vessels could approach from any direction. It would a difficult region to defend and manage from a tactical standpoint.

Not impossible, Hawkes noted. Just . . . difficult.

One advantage of this situation was, should they need to retreat quickly—assuming they were given enough time to bring the slipstream drive cores properly online—they could do with relative ease. The lack of any significant gravitational fields meant any direction out from the fighting would be a good one. Their escape would be dependent on the positions of any enemy ships, rather than the locations of immovable celestial bodies.

Hawkes checked the chronometer display, comparing it against his internal time sense. Assuming that she followed her usual routine, the Captain would return to the bridge within the next ten minutes, having stopped at the galley along the way to obtain a low-fat cappuccino and processed protein bar. He had that long to update the readiness status of their weapons and defense systems.

It took him even less time than he had estimated. The changes in those systems were almost trivial since the report he had delivered at the beginning of his shift, almost not worth updating it for—almost. He filed the report in his duty log and then submitted it for the Captain’s review.

Checking the chronometer display on his station one more time, he performed a quick mental calculation. There was time for one more battle alert drill before the Captain returned.

There’s was no telling what they might find ahead.

Emerald Flight: “Star Wing” (continued)

“Captain,” Elizabeth called out over the cacophony of internal communications traffic. “You have a Priority message coming in from Command.” Her eyebrows rose, but her expression became nearly unreadable as she added, “It’s command-encrypted.”

Devereux felt a lump like granite form in her stomach. She fought to keep her expression neutral and voice even as she replied.

“I’ll take it here,” she told Elizabeth, activating the privacy shield. She was already entering her authorization code phrase before it opaqued completely.

She did not react with surprise when the security access screen cleared to reveal the face of Admiral Gennell.

“Admiral.” Devereux let her tone reflect the salute that she would have offered in person.

Gennell looked grim. “Captain,” he began, “I’m afraid it’s bad news.”

That declaration alone was not enough to set Devereux further on edge. Command-encrypted messages were rarely used except when the strictest security was necessary. Whatever Gennell had to say, he had wanted to make certain that she would hear it first, before any member of her crew.

“Our fleet was ambushed at our transit rendezvous point in the Lapis Majoris system,” he told her. His gaze took on a momentary faraway look at the memory. “We defeated their forces and reentered slipstream.”

With reduced numbers, Devereux amended for him. Secure transmission or not, she could tell that he was not planning to reveal any more to her than he had to.

“We’re on our way,” Gennell continued. “But we’re going to be delayed.”

“How long?”

Gennell’s eyes did not shift from hers, clearly expecting that question.

“Too long,” he admitted grimly. “Our estimates are that the Arctican forces will be in position well before we can arrive.”

Devereux’s eyes moved away from the screen, staring for a long moment at the blank virtual walls before her.

“Christine,” his voice held both resolve and genuine concern. “You can’t allow them to launch their assault force.”

Devereux felt her throat constrict. Tension radiated down her neck and along her shoulders.

“Understood, sir,” she answered tightly.

“We’ll be there,” he told her with firm determination. “As soon as we can.”

A long moment of silence passed between them before Gennell spoke again.

“Good luck, Captain.”

“Thank you, sir,” Devereux acknowledged, trying not to see the dark sense of loss in the Admiral’s eyes.

Gennell’s face dissolved back to the security access screen. A moment later, that faded to darkness.

Devereux took a long, slow breath, feeling some of the tension ease from body. Her eyes remained on the empty screen for a long moment, and then she deactivated the privacy shield. Looking down at her bridge crew, she reached down and tapped the intercom control.

“All hands,” she said, surprised by the strength in her voice. “This is the Captain. Assume battle stations.”

Emerald Flight: “Star Wing” (continued)

Only one of the testing chambers appeared to be active. It status display emitted a soft blue glow. Hope nodded slightly, relieved to see that the analysis had completed successfully. Many of her earlier attempts had proven too fragile to survive even the primary testing process. The cryptic symbols displayed on the small screen would have been meaningless to anyone else—at least to anyone lacking her knowledge of genetics and the genomes with which she was working.

Her cautious optimism over the successful completion of the test was short lived. The samples had survived the testing process. They had not even mutated. They had, however, broken back down into simpler forms, hardly better than amoeba or algae. Their usefulness in a higher, intelligent form of life was limited at best.

Hope recorded the data to her archives and then sterilized the sample. It was of no further use to her—no more so than the hundreds that had preceded it. After making certain that the sample was neutralized and disposed of, she turned off the chamber. The glow emanating from its display panel faded into darkness.

I need older samples.

These latest samples that she had received from her home world, while centuries old, still contained too many of the genetic errors that were now threatening her people with extinction. No one had yet discovered original genetic sources from more than a few centuries ago. The degenerative process, it appeared, had begun further back even than that. What had caused it, no one seemed to know for certain.

The most widely held theory among the Aerian scientists was that it was the result of centuries upon centuries of small genetic errors creeping into the genome, increasing with each generation. Countless other theories abounded, ranging from the equally possible to the incredibly unlikely.

The Creators would know, she told herself. But the Creators are not here.

Even if the Creators did not know the answer, as unlikely as that seemed, they would, presumably, have the original genetic blueprints for each of the Aerian races. The flaw that faced them now affected them all equally, although its effects differed with each race. Despite that, Hope knew, they were all doomed unless an answer could be found.

Emerald Flight: “Star Wing” (continued)

“Thank you, Hope.”

Ensign Perry managed a weak smile as she said this quietly, one that even Hope could tell was not entirely sincere. While Hope was accustomed to this behavior from most members of the crew, it appeared that the Ensign’s lack of genuine gratitude was not directed at her. It seemed, instead, to be a reflection of her disappointment. Without another glance at Hope, the Ensign left the infirmary.

Hope watched her a moment and then looked back at the tablet in her hand. The results of both the physical and chemical scans had been conclusive: the Ensign had not been successfully impregnated by Lieutenant Salais. It was apparently something the Ensign had desired, but had not yet attained.

Hope had not expressed an opinion, although she questioned the benefits of such a genetic union. The Captain had advised her, after only a few weeks serving as the medical officer on this vessel, that unless asked directly, to keep such opinions to herself. Regulations aside, the Captain had told her, who the crew members wanted to have sexual relations with was none of her business. The Captain had also suggested that, if her opinion was requested, she would probably need to lie.

This last bit of counsel had troubled Hope. Direct truth was engrained in her culture. To speak otherwise was considered disrespectful, if not insulting. Humans, she had learned very early during her first contact with them, suffered under no such social restrictions. Untrue statements were made often among, even expected. She often wondered how they managed to form the bonds between themselves that they did by practicing such behavior.

After making a few final notations on the Ensign’s medical report, she approved it and then filed it away. Checking her schedule, she confirmed that she had no further appointments planned for the day and placed the diagnostic equipment into standby mode. She returned the tablet to its designated storage place and headed toward her private laboratory.

She felt an almost imperceptible tingle as the security access panel tested her palm. A moment later, the door unlocked with a faint click and Hope pushed it open. The lights glowed into life as she entered the small room.

Emerald Flight: “Star Wing” (continued)

Rusty eyed the twin slipstream drive cores warily. Quiescent now, as they were traveling under normal thrust, he still could not shake the feeling that there was something off about them. Each one had been tested, calibrated, and re-tested—and not a one had revealed any significant issues.

Seen that before, he mused glumly. But put them all together and . . . KABOOM!

He had heard about it happening, but never on any ship that he had ever been on. The most serious problem he could find on his ship, in fact, was a blemish on the aft coolant flow casing where someone had dropped a tool on it, probably weeks ago. Out of sheer irritation, Rusty had ordered a detail to repair and polish it out.

He studied the engineering status displayed on his desktop monitor, and then the diagnostic reports contained on the tablet his hand. Only with an immense effort of will did he not send them both flying across his office. That was fortunate, he realized, when Aruna appeared in the hatchway only a moment later.

“Chief?” Her soft, clipped tones were hesitant, as if sensing his sour mood.

Rusty looked up from the tablet, trying to decide whether or not to snarl at her. He wanted to be alone, to puzzle this out without interruption.

Then you should have locked the door . . .

He opted to behave civilly.

She doesn’t deserve it. She’s just trying to do her job.

“What is it?”

“The Bridge has asked if we can send a maintenance crew to the galley. There’s some kind of leak from one of the refrigeration units.”

Rusty looked away from her for a moment. He really had no good reason to refuse. All his engineering teams were doing now was wearing out parts by replacing them when there was nothing wrong with them.

“Yeah,” Rusty finally answered. “Go ahead.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“And Aruna?”

The young Indian ensign paused in the doorway. Rusty saw tension tighten her posture. Seeing it made him realize just how wound up he was.

“Take the rest of the day off.”

Aruna turned, puzzlement evident on her mocha-tinted features. “Sir?”

“You heard me,” Rusty replied.. “Do it,” he said, trying to sound gruff. “Before I change my mind. The waste ducts on Deck Two still need to be cleaned.”

“Yes, sir.” A faint smile then formed on her dark lips. “Thank you, sir.”

Rusty grunted, turning his attention back to the status display. Once he was certain that Aruna was no longer there, he allowed himself to smile.

Emerald Flight: “Star Wing” (continued)

Elizabeth slid into her tunic, gritting her teeth lightly against the twinge of discomfort as she slid it over her left shoulder. The heat from the shower had helped somewhat, aided no doubt by the analgesic that Hope had injected her with.

I won’t be swinging a racquet with that arm any time soon, she considered sourly.

Wincing in anticipation of another sharp surge of pain as she fastened the waistband of her uniform, she was relieved when she felt only the slightest twinge from the strained ligaments and muscles. She still could not decide which hurt more: the physical pain from her injury, or the embarrassment associated with tripping over Ensign de Marco during the second match of their game.

And all because I was trying to impress him . . .

A certain amount of off-duty fraternization among the members of the crew was, while not encouraged, expected. Since she had been assigned to be the First Officer, though, she had become more aware of those boundaries. Technically, none among the crew reported directly to her. She was a member of the command staff now, though, so it was important that she maintain a certain level of professional detachment. There was something about Enrique de Marco, though, kept bringing thoughts of him back to her. Since he was not assigned to the bridge crew, she gave herself permission to see might happen if they met while off-duty.

I found out all right, she sighed, breathing heavily. It must be a sign.

She sat down and pulled on her left shoe, managing to do it with surprisingly little difficulty. Encouraged by that, she was surprised at the tight knot of pain when she attempted to repeat the same action with her right shoe. It took her several clumsy attempts with her left hand, but she finally managed to get her foot into it. She stood, wiggled her foot so that the shoe fit more comfortably, and then took a long, slow breath.

Light duty, huh? She looked in the mirror, checking the appearance of her uniform. At least I don’t have to wear a sling.

It was a small consolation. She knew the Captain would review Hope’s medical log at some point during the day and probably ask her what happened.

Assuming that she doesn’t know already . . .

She loved serving on the Emerald Flight. The freshly minted Lieutenant she had been when she had graduated from the Academy would not have believed it. But having served for a year on the ship, and then her brief tour of duty on the Washington, she could not imagine a better posting. The downside, though, of serving on a small ship, with a proportionally smaller crew, was that news of all kinds traveled fast.

Particularly, she mused unhappily, the kind that you wished wouldn’t.

Emerald Flight: “Star Wing” (continued)

“Aruna!”

Rusty shouted from the status panel just outside his office.

“Yes, Chief?”

The ensign appeared from behind the adjacent bulkhead as if summoned by genie’s lamp. That was fitting, Rusty decided, considering where the young junior officer had been raised on Earth.

“Check out the flow regulators on the primary core power conduits.”

The engineering technician frowned, her concern evident on her dark-skinned features. “Is there a problem with them?”

“I don’t know yet,” Rusty replied quickly. “Just check ‘em out. Run full diags.”

Aruna did not bother to hide her [confusion], but neither did she make efforts to object. Instead, she responded with a snappy “Yes, sir,” and grabbed an equipment case from the rack. Rusty watched her depart for only a moment before his eyes once again surveyed the interior of the vast main Engineering Deck, searching for any sign of something amiss with one of the systems. He saw nothing. All of the diagnostic tests that his teams had run had given the same results.

Still, something felt vaguely wrong here, but he could not put his finger on it.

It was an odd sort of premonition, even for him. It lacked the dark presence that usually clung to them like a malevolent excretion. He had tried to dismiss it several times, but it returned like a vague itch in his mind.

That’s exactly it, he decided. No matter how he tried to soothe it, he could never seem to hit exactly the right spot.

“Xi!” he called out.

The crew member’s response was not nearly as prompt as Aruna’s had been, but was every bit as enthusiastic.

“Yes, sir?”

“Inspect the primary power junction at sixteen forward.”

“Um, sir?” Xi inquired hesitantly.

“What is it?”

“We checked those conduits yesterday.”

Rusty stared at the Asian crewman. “So?”

Xi swallowed, hard.

“Check them again,” Rusty instructed him deliberately.

“Yes, sir,” Xi acquiesced, appearing properly abashed.

Rusty shook his head slowly as the technician departed. He felt as though he was some kind of absurd scavenger hunt, trying to locate the hidden treasure by searching locations at random and without any helpful clues.

Luckily, he considered with some relief, no one has asked me why.

His gaze explored the upper deck of the Engineering section.

That’s a good thing, he decided. Because I don’t have an answer for them . . . yet.

Emerald Flight: “Star Wing” (continued)

Hope turned back toward Elizabeth, puzzled by the Lieutenant Commander’s statement.

“You will recover.”

“I know,” Elizabeth sighed. “But do you have to tell her how it happened?”

Still perplexed by the Lieutenant Commander’s persistent questioning, Hope replied with, “It is in the report.”

“All of it?”

Hope studied Elizabeth for a moment, beginning to wonder whether she should perform a more thorough neurological assessment. Her initial scans had shown no injuries to the Lieutenant Commander’s head. Nor, until now, had she demonstrated any unusual behavior since being brought to the infirmary.

Picking up and consulting the tablet, Hope read, “Minor internal damage to anterior—“

“Yeah, I got that part,” Elizabeth interrupted irritably.

“. . . improperly compensated change in equilibirum during competitive recreational athletic acitivity.”

Elizebeth was silent for a moment.

“That’s it?”

“Is information lacking?”

“What?” Elizabeth replied, Stunned surprise was clearly evident in her tone. “No!” She began to laugh, and then checked it. “It’s fine the way it is.”

Elizabeth lifted herself from the diagnostic bed once more, flexing her shoulder experimentally. She still winced slightly, but with much less intensity than she had the last time. Without checking the chronometer, Hope guessed that enough time had passed for the analgesic to have taken effect. Sitting on the edge of the diagnostic bed now, Elizabeth dropped onto her feet, reaching for her tunic from a nearby counter.

“Thanks, Hope,” she said with renewed cheerfulness. “I’ll take it easy on it.”

Before the Aerian physician could respond, the Elizabeth strode away toward the hatchway. She exited without looking back, leaving a confused Hope behind her.

Emerald Flight: “Star Wing” (continued)

“And there’s nothing at all unusual about this region?”

Gho shook her head. “Nothing, Captain,” she answered. “At least nothing our sensors can detect.” She waved her hand toward the Science station, indicating that the Captain could check the readings for herself.

“What about [] displacement?” Hawkes asked.

The ensign tapped at the surface of the console and then glanced at Devereux before answering.

“There’s nothing, sir.” She tapped a control, replacing the image on the leftmost main bridge display. “If there’s been any FTL traffic through here, it happened a long time ago.”

The Captain’s posture relaxed slightly. Hawkes felt an undercurrent of relief as well. It seemed unlikely now that they were heading into some kind of ambush. There were no known ways known to obscure the spatial displacement caused by the passage of a vessel using a faster-than-light drive, regardless of the technology being used.

Devereux turned toward Hawkes with a bemused expression.

“I hate to tell you this, Lieutenant,” she said, “but it looks like we’re going to get that spot in the history books after all—for discovering a new cloud of space dust.”

Hawkes met the Captain’s eyes for only a moment before turning away. He did not share her amusement.

Perhaps, he decided, there might be time for one more battle alert drill.

#

“I don’t need to stay here,” Elizabeth protested, rising from the diagnostic bed. “I can . . .”

She gasped as pain stabbed across her shoulder and down along her left arm. The analgesic that Hope had given her had not taken full effect yet. With deliberate care, Elizabeth lowered herself back onto the bed. The pain subsided, but she still winced with the slightest movement of that arm.

“You will remain here.”

Elizabeth glared back at Hope, finding the Aerian physician’s dark alien eyes as unreadable as ever.

“Right,” Elizabeth conceded unhappily, and settled herself back to wait.

Hope said nothing, turning away after a moment to examine the readings from the diagnostic displays. The injury that the Lieutenant Commander had suffered was more painful than serious. Judging from the diagnostic data, and some immediate treatment, she should recover almost completely within the next few days.

Turning back to Elizabeth, she said, “You are restricted to light duty.”

Elizabeth sagged against the thin cushions. “Does the Captain know?”

“I will inform her.”

“Do you have to?”

Puzzled, Hope studied the Lieutenant Commander. “The Captain anticipates my report.”

Elizabeth gave an audible sigh. “Great,” she murmured aloud. “Just . . . great.”

Emerald Flight: “Star Wing” (continued)

Hawkes checked the chronometer display. Even though he had interrupted the Captain’s exercise session, he suspected that she would still follow her own usual routine. Within the next twenty-five minutes, she would return to the bridge carrying a low-fat cappuccino and a processed protein bar. He had that long to prepare an updated report on their weapons and defense systems readiness. It would not take nearly that long, as it had not been that long since he had readied the previous one. Still, with the unknown ahead of them, it paid off to be prepared.

Twenty-four minutes later, Captain Devereux entered the bridge. She carried a mug in one hand, as Hawkes had predicted, but her other hand carried did not contain the protein bar that he expected. Instead, it held some kind of pastry. Hawkes remembered then that Ensign Evelyn Jaccard, in what Hawkes surmised was an attempt to gain the attention of Lieutenant Gregory Debantu, had baked several dozen scones for the morning meal. It appeared that the Captain had opted to sample one.

“Anything new on the sensors?” she asked. She took a small bite from the scone as she waited an answer.

“We’re still out of the optimal sensor range, Captain,” Lieutenant Gho reported from the main Science station. “It still looks like an asteroid belt,” she went on, “or some kind of debris field.” Gho consulted the displays on the station before continuing. “There’s nothing to suggest that there’s anything the size of a planet or small moon out there.”

That, Hawkes considered, would have been intriguing.

Planets and moons did not tend to exist outside of established solar systems. There had been none charted in this area. Neither their sensors, nor any previous surveys, had reported any of the usual signs of a planetary system in the region. Hawkes knew that was no guarantee that one was not present. As often as not, the universe seemed determined to remind the humans who were exploring it that everything they believed they understood about it was not necessarily true.

Devereux stared at the trio of main bridge displays, chewing another bite of scone thoughtfully.

“Still,” Devereux mused aloud, “it’s odd for it be out here in the middle of nowhere.”

Hawkes found that he had to agree.

Emerald Flight: “Star Wing” (continued)

With some effort, she shrugged away the memory. She turned on the shower, waited only a moment for the water to grow warm, and stepped inside. The heated spray cleansed her body, but did little to ease her mind.

#

Hawkes watched as the Captain left the bridge, than tapped into the sensor feed from the main Science station. It was not that he did not trust the young ensign who was monitoring it. He was, he had to admit to himself, intrigued.

There was a reason that this area of space had only been lightly explored: there had been, until now, nothing of astronomical or strategic interest here. It was not even marginally disputed territory, as no side in their current conflict had expressed even the smallest interest in it.

That, of course, could change now.

Although there were no other vessels in the immediate area, he held few doubts that were being monitored in some fashion. It was just as likely that their unexpected sensor contact had already been noted as well. There was an excellent probability that this previously neglected region of space was about to become of great interest.

Emerald Flight: Star Wing (continued)

The distance from the bridge to her quarters was short, but it was enough time for Devereux to consider her growing uneasiness. She had felt it even before the report from Hawkes. Attributing it to restlessness fostered by the current monotony of their journey, she had paid it little heed. The mysterious sensor readings had done nothing to fan them. Yet, there was something . . .

Entering her quarters, she palmed the lights up to a brighter daylight level. Activating the “Do Not Disturb” indicator, she began to strip out of her workout clothes. Pulling her shirt off over her head, she caught a whiff of her dried perspiration. Other than for Hawkes and Pyrafox, no one else on the bridge had been close enough to smell her.

It’s not that bad . . . Devereux thought, reasoning that she had only just started her workout when she had been called to the bridge.

She pondered again, though, on Pyrafox’s reaction. Although he had a reputation among the junior crewmembers as being a bit of a prankster, he had never, to her knowledge, demonstrated anything but total and appropriate respect toward the senior officers. He had not seemed to have even been aware that he was doing it.

Or had he?

Pulling off the rest of her clothes, she wondered how he managed to tolerate the collective scents of the rest of the crew. It was not unreasonable to assume that one of the traits that he had acquired as part of his vulpine genetic heritage included an acute sense of smell.

Stripped naked now, Devereux studied her body’s profile in the long mirror.

The soft edges that she had acquired during her leave of absence to care for her father were nearly gone. Although she had tried to maintain a rigorous exercise regimen during that time, it had been nearly impossible to maintain during his last weeks when even sleep had become a precious commodity. It had taken her months of effort to regain this much.

Her legs and hips had regained nearly all of their previous muscle tone. They were not quite in the same condition as when she served as a Lieutenant, but they were close. Studying her breasts, always a bit larger than she thought they needed to be, she was grateful for the ship’s low gravity. On Earth, she had noticed, they had begun to sag slightly, the unfortunate side effect of both planet-side gravity and her brief pregnancy.

She had found it within herself now to longer experience that lost and hollow feeling at that memory. What she did not expect was the remembered sensation that came unbidden to her—that of Scott’s touch along her body.

He is gone now, she reminded herself. Long since dead and gone.

No matter how many times she had practiced that litany since she had returned to her own present—his future—a part of her refused to believe it. They had touched, talked, and made love. It had happened to her only months ago—not more than a century past.

Shattered Bonds (continued)

She touched it! And nothing happened!

In all of the times that she had come to the Human village, she had never dared to touch the fence or the gate. Wendy had warned her that unusual sound of invisible insects meant that the barrier was “charged”. Shanta still had no idea what that meant, only that it was dangerous in some way. She had never tested it herself, believing that Wendy would not tell her an untruth.

Banah had been far less resolute in his faith of Wendy’s advice and had dared to touch it. While he had recuperated physically in less than a day, it had taken him much longer to recover from the lingering embarrassment that resulted from his involuntary body functions that followed his contact with the electrified fence.

It appeared, though, that the gate itself was not so protected. Shanta had never seen any of the Humans touch the barrier itself. She guessed that if one of them touched the activated fence, they would suffer in a way similar to Banah. Staring intently at the gate once more, Shanta tried to decide whether it was worth the risk to find out—the alternative being caught within the Human village. Perhaps even more difficult than scaling the gate was getting past the two Humans who now guarded it.

Among her own people, Shanta knew that her speed was not exceptional. Compared to the Humans, though, she moved more quickly than she had ever seen the fastest of them ever run.

I might be able to surprise them.

She could, she hoped, startle them with her speed, leaping over the gate before they could react. It would be a risky move, she knew.

But probably not as risky as staying here and getting caught . . .