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to do, Alex included.”
    Also with them was Rafael, who stood, looking
rather resolute with his one eye and eye patch, leaning against the
ops console. He’d kept an unusually shrewd watch over Alex since
they’d arrived in Rotham space, Calvin had noticed, but he’d
decided that was for the best, since that duty had been assigned to
Rafael when they left.
    “Rafael,” said Calvin, “tell me what, if
anything, you can get on those scopes.”
    Rafael nodded, then turned around. As he
worked the Wanderer’s decidedly low-tech instruments, Calvin
motioned for Alex to take the pilot’s seat so there’d be more room,
and Miles just stared at Alex, as if taking it upon himself to be
Alex’s watchdog whenever Rafael had his back turned.
    Calvin had thought of this general area based
on some Intel Wing knowledge he recalled regarding various war
scenarios drawn up by them on request of Fleet Command should the
nations ever return to war. It was determined that the likeliest
location for the Rotham to group their fleets together to invade
The Corridor, but keep them distant enough to avoid long-range
detection by Imperial and Alliance listening posts and other
instruments, was a region of space the Empire called “The Red
Spot.” Alex, and presumably the rest of his people, had a different
name for it, but the idea was the same. The fleet grouped up inside
a cluster of three red giants, just barely far enough apart to have
not formed into a single supermassive star. And, sure enough, their
initial glimpse from a distant flyby seemed to reveal a mass of
starships, difficult to identify, centered right in the midst of
the star cluster.
    Now the Wanderer had cautiously crept
to a new position, a vantage point that, after some discussion and
disagreement, Calvin and Alex had compromised on, which would allow
them to get a better picture of what the fleet of starships looked
like without drawing undue attention to themselves. They positioned
their tiny ship to be mostly invisible inside a vast, dispersed
debris field.
    “Get me as good of images as you can,” said
Calvin, trying not to hover over Rafael’s shoulder.
    “I’ll do my best…it’s really hard with this
equipment. I wish we were on the Nighthawk .”
    “You and me both,” said Calvin.
    “Amen!” added Miles.
    Alex remained silent.
    “It’s definitely a formation of ships,” said
Rafael. “And a lot of them. If they give me enough time, I can get
some decent readings.”
    “Take the time,” said Calvin.
    “I will. Provided they don’t leave or, you
know, discover us and come kill us, I think I can get some useful
information for the queen.”
    “Excellent; keep me informed,” said Calvin.
He started to scoot his way backwards and toward the exit.
    “You’re leaving?” asked Miles, sounding a
little disappointed.
    “Yeah, I’d better check on the others
below.”
    “Want some company?”
    “Nah, I need you here to keep an eye on this
one,” Calvin said, motioning toward Alex with his thumb. This made
Miles smile.
    “Gotcha, loud and clear, Cal.”
    Alex looked at Calvin with an unamused frown,
but didn’t otherwise retort.
    When Calvin turned to exit the Bridge, he
very nearly crashed headfirst into Rain Poynter who, evidently, was
trying to enter the Bridge at the same time, probably to see what
all the excitement was all about. Calvin stopped himself suddenly
by grabbing the first thing he could find, part of the hatch lever,
which also happened to have a very sharp edge. It sliced the top of
his left palm, but he managed not to go slamming onto the deck and
bringing Rain down with him.
    “ Son of a —” he mumbled quietly, as the
pain of, essentially, a giant paper cut shot through him.
    “Oh, no,” said Rain, instinctively taking his
hand and opening it, which caused more pain, but he fought the
instinct to react. “Here, come with me, I’ll get this treated.” She
led him through the corridor and toward the cargohold that’d