Battlefield: “Future Tense” (continued)

Raynes entered to a faint sense of bustling on the bridge. People were moving briskly through their assigned tasks, but there was an unusual hush. It was not quite a sense of foreboding, but more one of expectation. Surprise and uncertainty still held sway over their situation; real fear and panic had not yet set it in.

And it won’t, Raynes told himself. If I have anything to say—or do—about it.

He pre-empted himself from asking for a general status check. He doubted that much had changed during the few minutes it had taken him to reach the bridge. Asking for one would also distract his crew members from completing their more immediate and urgent assignments.

He strolled easily along the bridge’s central walkway. His gazes briefly swept across each of the stations. The quick flashes of data told him nothing, and he did not linger at any particularly station. Crossing to the command desk, he passed by the helm console without slowing. Behind him, he sensed Chautran’s eyes occasionally glancing up at his back.

Before sitting, he tapped out the codes to unlock the command console, and then sat down. A quick survey of the ship-wide system status summaries revealed nothing new. He tapped up his own copy of the navigational and astronomical charts, briefly hoping that his intuition might reveal something that had so far been missed.

“Captain,” Beart announced quietly over the console’s comm system. “Engineering reports that full life support has been restored to Decks One, Two, and Four. They’re still having issues with the power systems on Deck Three, but are working on it.”

“Thank you, Lieutenant,” Raynes acknowledged and closed the channel.

His fingers tapped out a quiet, asynchronous rhythm against the surface of his console. Raynes’ eyes turned toward the main bridge display. Without the navigational overlay, it was nearly impossible to tell that they were in unknown, uncharted space. When that sight revealed nothing new, he silently surveyed the bridge. Every crew member present was busy taking readings, gathering reports, or assisting with repairs. In some respects, it felt like a typical day on the job—where it not for the underlying uncertainty of their current predicament.

The overhead illumination flickered for a moment. Raynes looked upward and saw, as he expected, nothing obviously amiss. The lighting resumed its standard glow almost immediately.

Engineering must still be having issues with the power.

He looked around, but no one else on the bridge seemed to notice. Either they were all too engrossed in their work or the effect had been localized to the lighting system above his station. He frowned slightly, but when the problem did not immediately return, he turned his attention back to the stream of messages gathering on his console.

Filtering, reading, and filing some of them for later action took up time and focused the bulk of his attention on matters other than their immediate situation. It always lurked there, though, peeking out at each request for additional resources. Some of these he would have approved almost without thought in the past. Now, he had to weigh the needs of both their short- and long-term survival against every one of them. In the end, he filed them all, waiting until he had received additional reports.

He glanced at the time display, surprised and relieved that he had managed to use up nearly an hour.

And by doing something a bit more productive than brooding . . . or driving my officers crazy by peeking over their shoulders every three minutes.

He straightened, rolling his shoulders in order to loosen the tension there from sitting hunched over his console. The tightness eased, but did not vanish entirely. He doubted that it ever would—at least not while he remained in command.

In an attempt to rest and refocus his eyes, he turned them toward the main bridge display. The image it showed had changed little since he had last looked at it. Neither the navigational or astronomical overlays revealed anything new.

I wonder how Phuong is coming with that analysis . . .

His eyes turned toward the main Science station and saw the young Lieutenant, her head down as her hands moved deftly across the surface of her console. Her expression displayed determination and focus. The dark curtain of her hair brushed lightly across her shoulders when she turned her head to check a reading on another part of the console.

Raynes realized that he was staring. He turned away quickly, guiltily, relieved that she had not seemed to notice. Silently, he chided himself for his interest, but could not deny that the young Lieutenant was attractive.

And young, he reminded himself. Young.

Although hardly more than a decade separated their ages—and he had seen many relationships bridge that, and longer, gaps in age—it was a decade more of harsh experience that she had not yet experienced. That, and she had grown up in a world that he barely knew.

A sudden burst of sound from the helm station drew his attention back to the present. Hudson was quivering, almost bouncing in her seat. Her hands moved with almost fanatical energy across her station. The knot in Rayne’s stomach sharpened until he realized that Hudson was grinning. He relaxed, breaking into a smile himself.

“Anything you want to share with everyone else, Lieutenant?” He did not bother to hide the chuckle from his voice.

Hudson literally bounced in her seat this time as she answered him.

“Yes!” she exclaimed. “Maneuvering thrusters are back online!”

Raynes chuckled softly, feeling better than he had for several hours, on seeing the grin on the helm officer’s face.

“I hate to dampen your buoyant enthusiasm,” he said, offering her a conciliatory smile, “but hold position for now.” His eyes turned toward the main bridge display. “At least until we have some place to go.”

Hudson’s grin faded, but her body still vibrated with renewed energy. “We can do that now.” Her hands played across the console’s controls. “Thruster firing . . . spin halted.” She tapped out several additional commands. “We are now at full stop.”

“Excellent,” Raynes responded. “Now if we just knew at full stop where.”

He turned to look at Chautran, but the young Science Officer’s attention was still firmly locked on her station. For an instant, she paused, seeming to sense to his attention on her, but he looked away to avoid making her nervous again.

His eyes then turned toward the chronometer and he was disappointed to see that the time for the requested status reports was still somewhat distant.

He blinked, suddenly feeling the strain in his eyes.

I suppose coffee from the galley would be too much to ask.

He was tempted to request it, nonetheless. Only concern that it might divert someone from more critical assignments prevented him from doing so.

Rank might hath its privileges, he mused. But sometimes it can be a damned nuisance.

With a sudden chuckle, loud enough that he saw some of the bridge officers react to it, he realized that he had missed an important point there.

“Lieutenant Hudson,” he called out.

“Sir?”

“You have the bridge,” he informed her. “I’ll be back shortly.”

Her eyes told him that she wanted to question him as to why, but she managed to hold it back. Had they been alone, she would not have hesitated.

“Yes, sir,” she acknowledged, watching as he locked down the command console.

“Don’t worry, Lieutenant,” he told her as he headed toward the hatchway. “I’m not leaving the ship.”

Several expressions played across her face before she settled on one of irritated bemusement.