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 . . .
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