Objective 2
SJS Nakatomi
Noolian Sector |
Mid Rim
The Atrisian slept underneath an oblong-shaped window.
The cramped cabin was bathed in mottled blue light, even with a filtering film on the transparisteel that helped to dampen the visual effect of hyperspace travel. It was as though the room was bathed in blue lightning.
One grew used to it after a while. Particularly when grasping at some few hours of sleep when working aboard a ship deployed far from its safe harbors. Moments of uninterrupted tranquility that vanished quickly.
Such as in the case of a chime ringing, echoing within the cabin so to rouse him awake.
A hand moved from the small bed to find the control panel recessed into the top of the table posted nearby. With a practiced click of a button, he answered the call. As he did, a voice announced:
"Sir, you requested to be notified when we were on final approach to the Dressel System."
Sitting up, the disheveled Atrisian woke to the expected news. Happy, nonetheless. They were close to the Mara Corridor. The summons might well have been a report of raiders or pirates. Thankfully, that wasn't the case. For now, anyway.
"Acknowledged," the former senator responded, running a hand over his face as he tried to shake out the weariness. Then, standing, announced,
"On my way."
As he approached one wall of the cabin, the motion of his hand signaled for a sink to swing out from its usually recessed position. He splashed water on to help spark himself awake, taking the extra minute to run a shaver across his face and neck. Finally, he tugged on the trousers of his Silver Fleet uniform, pulling on the shirt even as he paused a moment to toggle the intercom again.
"Note to the galley: I'll take my breakfast on the bridge."
Grabbing the uniform jacket from off the back of the chair in his cabin, the dark-haired prince stepped out into the hallways of the ship.
The
Nakatomi was a Consular-class frigate. Militarily, it was classified as a light escort. In function, it supported the Silver Circle as a vessel dedicated to scientific research and exploration programs. Both aspects of government that Shoma had been invested toward since he'd been a boy. With the Concord operating in more frontier space than the Alliance's Core-ward focus, it made the Silvers a tempting escape from the problems miring the Core.
He was still adjusting the clasps on the coat as a hatch opened and he heard the words
"Captain on the bridge" proclaimed.
To be completely honest, part of why he'd looked up at those words was because he still expected them to be for someone else.
No. Not this time. Smoothing out the front of his uniform, the prince forced a wan smile as his dark eyes found the Officer of the Deck.
"Status report."
"Good morning, sir," the lieutenant intoned, giving a slight bow of his head as he turned toward the Atrisian. Gesturing over a plot table, the man continued. "We are presently on the
Askar Trace, approaching Dressel at point-eight lightspeed. Navigation calculates reversion to real-time in three minutes, forty-eight seconds. All systems nominal. All stations standing by."
Glancing down, the prince took a moment to orient himself to the plot. It appeared the ship had made good time in the four hours that he'd been able to get some sleep.
"Very well," Shoma responded. Then, giving a nod to the lieutenant, raised his voice as he announced,
"This is Commader Ike, I have the conn."
Returning his attention to the lieutenant, the prince noted,
"Why don't you head down. Get something to eat and some rest?" He'd need it. Doubtless, they'd all be pulling some long hours once the hyperlane survey began in earnest.
As the lieutenant made his way off the bridge, the prince turned toward the analyst droid.
"Navigator, what's my countdown?"
"Now two minutes, eleven seconds, sir."
"Standard mark time at one minute," Shoma answered, before glancing over at the enlisted man toward the back of the bridge.
"Boatswain, take us to Black Alert."
Black Alert. Not Action Stations. A silent message to all stations giving them notice to make any preparations for the jump to lightspeed, or the reversion to sublight operations.
"Helm, standby to take us out of lightspeed," Shoma continued, before changing focus to the science officer.
Part of him still wished that was his role. It was certainly the one for which he felt himself best qualified.
"Com-Scan, I want all sensors up as soon as we come out of reversion."
As he was speaking, a steward had come up from the galley, tray in hand, with a small thermos and a versatile carafe. "Good morning, sir," the steward noted, setting the tray on the edge of the plot table.
"Good morn--" Shoma began, only to be interrupted as the navigation droid announced:
"One minute standby."
"Would you care for a drink, sir?" the steward asked from beside the prince.
"Caf, black," Shoma answered, even as he returned his attention to the plot table. Changing view, he brought up the most recent astrometric data on the Hoylin System.
The debris disk was not very dense, but it looked like they might have some cross solar winds in the heliopause.
A steaming cup was pressed into his hands. "Your usual miso soup, sir?"
Giving a slight bow, the prince accepted the caf with, perhaps, more gratitude than he should have. In space, caf was worth his weight in pure aurodium.
"Thank you, Jorel. Just the caf for now," Shoma answered, as the steward gave a nod, picking up the tray and then making his way off the bridge.
"Thirty-second standby."
Here's where the
fun begins, he thought to himself. Taking a sip of the caf, the prince tried to mask the heavy sigh before he cleared his throat and looked up.
"Navigation, transfer plot to the Helm." Glancing from the droid to the Zeltron at the forward station, the prince put their lives in her pink hands as he said,
"Luna, disengage hyperdive on your mark."
"I have the plot," the Zeltron officer answered. "Mark time now fifteen seconds."
Taking another sip of his caf, Shoma stepped back from the plot table and took his seat at the center of the bridge.
"Ten seconds."
Cradling the warm cup in both hands, the prince's dark eyes shifted to the view ahead. A tunnel of light. Mottled white and blue.
"Disengaging hyperdrive in five. Four. Three. Two. One.
Now."
The view ahead went completely white, before cracks of black could be seen peeking through. It was as though the light were being dissolved away into darkness, until the familiar backdrop of normal space snapped into view.
"Board is green," Operations reported.
The science officer chimed in next. "Confirming stellar position."
His caf held at the ready, Shoma glanced at the back of the bridge as he announced,
"Boatswain, stand down from Black Alert." Facing forward again, he took a sip of his caf before ordering,
"All stations, normal sublight operation."
"Confirmed, sir. We have arrived in the Dressel system," the science officer stated.
Drawing in a deep breath, the young royal tried not to think about the hours ahead of them. Which was not even getting into the hours it had taken for them to even get here.
Instead, he merely opined,
"Well. Let's get to work."
