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Lieutenant-Commander S’lestra, you have the bridge. Alert me if anything crops up. I’ll be in the conference room.”

    Chief Dave Macintosh listened to his new CO’s speech, whilst around him the rest of engineering remained a hive of activity. Under normal circumstances, he would have ordered they pay attention. But on this occasion, with the
Manhattan
fresh out of the gate and embarking on her maiden voyage, he’d made the decision to have them continue working. Of course, he himself had stopped to hear what Captain Driscoll had to say.
    All very stirring stuff, however it did little to alleviate the Chief’s concern that they had been forced to leave before the
Manhattan
had been properly broken in.
    Once assembled in her basic state, the
Manhattan
had been hauled to Horizon Station to have her hull fitted. Her many systems and components were connected with the Station’s AI for a brutal gauntlet of simulations and evaluations.
    Chief Macintosh had been involved from day one, from soon after approval of the
Manhattan
’s design to his official posting as Chief of Engineering.
    Although he had never intended to play Chief to Driscoll…
    With the Captain’s speech over, the Chief got back to work. While the
Manhattan
was at Jump, the engineering crews had their hands full monitoring every system to ensure each and every aspect of the ship operated as intended.
    Driscoll… he’d not even had a face-to-face meeting with the man yet. Apparently his posting had been something of an eleventh hour event, mere days beforehand. They’d pulled him fresh from his previous command to take the
Manhattan
out. Of course, it wasn’t like Driscoll was some hot new talent trying to make his mark.
    Nick Driscoll needed no introduction.
    Despite his own private feelings about the man, the Chief couldn’t deny he was a veritable legend in his own right.
Of course
they’d wanted him for the Union’s latest ship…
    “Chief, we’re about to disengage the polaron influx tanks. Do you want to supervise?” Lieutenant Daniels asked.
    “Yes,” Macintosh said, his reverie broken. “Get to it, lad, I’ll be right there.”
    Nick Driscoll. Of all the people…

    Once Driscoll was off the bridge, Hardy turned to the
Manhattan
’s navigator, Ensign Tom Cochrane.
    “Serious, ain’t he?” he said in a low voice.
    “Guess he has to be,” Cochrane replied.
    Hardy whistled through his teeth. “And that scar down his neck? D’you see that?”
    Ensign Cochrane nodded. “Yeah. I know how he got it, too. The battle of Tamaka. I noticed he didn’t like the traditional stuff, either. Shot you down pretty quickly.”
    “Well, I guess I walked into that one. I mean, I―”
    A sudden presence loomed behind them. A voice, low and scratchy yet at the same time distinctively feminine.
    “Sssomething to sssay, gentlemen?”
    They both looked over their shoulder at the same time. Lieutenant-Commander S’lestra glared down. Her bright jade green eyes sparkled with an inner fire that might have been curiosity or anger.
    “Uh, nothing Ma’am,” Hardy said.
    “Hmm. Well, let’sss keep it that way,” she said, squinting. “Mouthsss shut and handsss firmly on joysticksss, pleassse.”
    “Yes Ma’am,” Ensign Cochrane said, blushing.
    Lieutenant-Commander S’lestra returned to her post at the science-tactical station. At seven feet tall and cast with golden skin, she made for an imposing figure. Dark brown dreadlocks hung to the bottom of her back. They were not merely hair, but nerves and feelers, all woven together into plaits. She was a Thriknor, renowned throughout the galaxy for their seductive abilities and tantric lovemaking.
    This fact alone was enough to make every male member of the
Manhattan
nervous in her presence―which suited her just fine. As the only Thriknor aboard, it gave her the edge she needed to demand their attention and obedience. Of course, being the size she was helped too. Were she any other race, her