“Now hear this!” the comm-system blared through the loudspeakers. “All hands report to stations and prepare to get underway. Repeat, all hands report to stations and prepare to get underway. Departure in 5 minutes. That is all.”
“You see,” Vladimir said, as he stuffed the last sausage into his mouth and then displayed his empty plate, comparing it to Nathan’s barely touched plate full of food. “Just like on the rescue squad!”
Nathan began shoveling food into his mouth as Vladimir left the table, his engorged mouth still chewing away. After shoveling in several heaping spoonfuls, Nathan doubted he could fit much more into his mouth, so he grabbed the four sausages from his plate and headed out of the galley in a hurry.
The bridge was bustling with activity as the crew prepared to get underway. Technicians were performing last minute checks on critical systems, and the communications officer was busily confirming the readiness of each department to get underway.
Captain Roberts sat in his command chair in the middle of the bridge, pretending to review some notes on the data pad that he carried with him everywhere. He very much liked having information at his fingertips, and as far as he was concerned it was the best piece of lost technology yet recovered from the Data Ark.
The captain was listening intently to the sounds of his bridge staff as they prepared for their first real voyage. It would be a brief journey, only about six hours round-trip, but for his crew of fresh graduates, or ‘kids’ as his XO liked to call them, it would be their first voyage and therefore always one to remember.
He could’ve waited until later in the day before setting out, giving them all a chance to mentally prepare before getting under way, but that would’ve been too easy. When faced with a short amount of time to train a new crew, it made sense to use every opportunity to test them. And this sudden call to set sail was the perfect chance to do just that. For how quickly one could drop what they were doing and jump into action was a good indicator of how they would perform under pressure. It was something that he had learned from his first captain more than twenty years ago.
In a way, he felt a little guilty, like he had cheated. Unlike the rest of the crew, he did have a chance to mentally prepare. Not that he needed it, but he did take the time to visit with his family by vid-comm this morning. He had been unable to reach either of his sons, who were both serving in the fleet and were unavailable. But he had spoken at length with his daughter and even gotten to speak with his grandchildren. He had shared breakfast with his wife, also by vid-comm, just like he had done every morning since he reported for duty on the Aurora over a month ago.
The captain looked up from his data pad, scanning the eleven stations located around the perimeter of the bridge. They were all manned and ready, with the notable exception of a helmsman, who still had not arrived, despite the fact that they were set to depart in under two minutes. He turned to face the tactical station located directly behind him, which was currently being manned by his XO. He had insisted on an experienced officer at tactical, and Fleet Command had agreed to transfer one from the Intrepid when she returned to port in another week. “Any sign of our helmsman?” the captain asked Commander Montero.
As if on cue, Nathan came charging onto the bridge at a fast walk, still chewing his breakfast. “Sorry Sir,” he apologized with a mouth full of sausage. “Got a late start,” he added as he passed by and took his seat at the helm, directly in front of and slightly to the right of the command chair.
“Wipe your hands before you touch that console, Lieutenant,” the captain warned, a touch of amusement in his voice.
“Yes Sir.”
Nathan quickly wiped his hands on his pant legs, casting a guilty expression toward Cameron who sat at the navigation console to his left. Cameron looked away, still not able to understand how he had been promoted over her.
“Now that we’re all here,” the captain said. “XO. Ship’s Status?”
“All departments have reported in, and all stations are manned and ready, Captain,” Commander Montero reported from the tactical station. “We’re ready to get under way, Sir.”
“Very well. Comm, contact the platform’s CIC and Fleet Command, let them know the Aurora is leaving port.”
“Yes Sir,” the comm officer acknowledged.
“Lieutenant Scott, check that all boarding ramps have been detached and retracted, and release all mooring clamps.”
Nathan checked the status display that sent a constant telemetry of mooring data from the Platform’s control systems. “All boarding ramps have been retracted and secured, releasing all mooring clamps.” Nathan pressed a button on his side console to release the mooring clamps that held the ship in place.
Outside, more than twenty clamps located on the end of long pneumatic arms simultaneously released their grip on the Aurora’s mooring points. The sudden release allowed the negatively pressured mooring arms to quickly pull away from the ship and back against the assembly platform.
Inside, there was a muffled clunk as the clamps released, and the ship seemed to dip slightly to port. It was only a slight sensation, one that might have gone unnoticed had they not seen the slight change in the ship’s angle in relation to the assembly frame that surrounded them through the main view screen.
“Ship is free floating, Sir.” Nathan immediately compensated for the slight change in attitude with his docking thrusters, tapping his joystick ever so slightly, bringing the ship back into perfect alignment.
“Very, well, Lieutenant. Take us out.”
“Thrusting forward.” Nathan applied gentle forward pressure on the joystick. He held the pressure for only a second, maybe less-just enough for the ship to start inching forward.
The Aurora began to slowly slide out of the long octagonal shaped truss work that had been her home since her construction had begun over two years ago. Every single work light was shining on her as she inched away from her berth.
The main view screen was a massive quarter-sphere display that encompassed the front third of the bridge. Starting at the floor and flowing up smoothly onto the ceiling, it gave the flight crew, the two most forward stations, and the Command Chair a one-hundred and eighty degree view laterally, and nearly as much vertically. It was as if you were sitting in a bubble atop the ship herself, looking out into space. Despite the knowledge that it was only a projection, and that they were sitting in one of the most protected compartments within the ship, one couldn’t help but feel exposed when surround by the amazing view.
From his position at the helm, Nathan could easily see that every view port on their side of the assembly platform’s main structure was packed full of faces, all there to witness this historic moment. For them, it was the culmination of years of hard work and long hours, and they had every reason to be proud of their accomplishment as they watched her go.
“Message from Fleet Command, Sir,” the comm officer reported.
“Go ahead,” the captain answered, already anticipating the content of the message.
“Message reads, ‘Bon Voyage, and good luck to the crew of the Fleet’s newest vessel, the Aurora.’ End message.”
“Thank you, Ensign. Pass it on, ship-wide, please.”
Nathan continued to add velocity with each tap of the joystick, until they were moving out of the berth at a respectable rate. He didn’t want to seem to cautious or they might realize how nervous he actually was. For only a few short weeks ago, Nathan was about to serve as a third-string backup pilot on the oldest ship in the fleet. But now, by some twist of fate, he was the lead pilot of the newest and fastest ship the Earth had ever put into space. He had never aspired to such accomplishments. In fact, he had never been as patriotic as most of classmates. His only ambition had been to get away from his father and lead his own life. But now, after all he had been through over the last two weeks, he was starting to feel the same as everyone else. He was believing in something greater than himself.