“Fucking Imperial dickheads!” Jax fumed as he flung his hand hard enough to dislodge fire suppression foam from his hand to splat against the bulkhead.
Steve walked over to the access way leading to the particle beam cannon equipment section.
Jax walked to the staircase. “I’ll get us underway.” He pointed to the armory hatch. “Guess what you all are doing?” He didn’t wait to hear their replies, heading up to the common deck as quickly as he could.
As he dropped into the pilot’s console, he asked, “Skip, we ready?”
The Imperials found nothing that would have given them cause to keep Jax and the others in custody—much to Sub-Commander Pettit’s displeasure, from what Jax could tell. When her scanner team, as far as they knew, accidentally caused the fire suppression system to activate, she ordered the search cut short.
“Yup, they’re insisting on auto flight out to five thousand, but we’re cleared to go. I got the sense they were eager to see us go.”
Jax powered up the grav-lift motors, lifting the Osprey off its landing gear. With the expected clunks, the gear retracted. Jax spun the ship around to face the large hangar doors. He looked down at the blinking indicator and sighed as he pressed the control. The flight controls slid away from him as the ship left the docking bay under the control of an Imperial flight controller somewhere in the massive warship. Watching the controls make adjustments, Jax growled, “I hate auto flight.”
“Try being me,” Skip replied. “Someone is controlling my physical body from a distance. It’s disconcerting.”
A few minutes later, the flight controls moved back into position, nearly knocking Jax over. He tapped the intercom button. “We’re flying free. Wormhole in five.”
On the small display showing the rear camera view, he watched as the Imperial ship receded. He knew the ship would track them as long as they were sensor range. The type of ship the Osprey was, how many were aboard her, her transponder ID, and likely a lot more metadata would be logged and sent back to New Terra to be logged in a massive database.
“Wormhole in one minute,” Jax announced on the shipwide intercom. He looked over his shoulder. “Everything dialed in?”
Rudy made his nodding gesture, metal fist bobbing up and down at the wrist twice.
A countdown on Jax’s console reached five. “Four, three, two, one,” he said, then pushed a blinking blue button. Outside the cockpit, a vortex of blue and green swirling gases spiraled open. Lightning like electrical discharge danced around the event horizon. The Osprey leaped into the vortex, and in a blink, the swirling energy collapsed, leaving no trace that anything had been there.
The interior of the wormhole was a twisting tunnel of the same blue and green energy. The flight controls retracted from Jax’s pilot seat into the console. He turned. “How long?”
Rudy wheeled away from his console. “Two days.” He paused, then added, “Three course changes along the way.”
Jax went down to the commons deck to see everyone sitting around the lounge. “Done with the de-foaming?” he asked, grinning.
“If I never see fire suppression foam again, it’ll be too soon,” Naomi groaned, reaching up to wipe a glob from her hair.
Jax headed for the kitchenette. “We’ve got two days to kill. Who’s hungry?”
Kori nudged Steve in the ribs. She coughed and said, “Stevie makes a killer lasagna, if you’ve got the ingredients.” The younger Delphino brother glared at his sibling’s love interest, who smiled and made a go on motion.
From the kitchenette, Jax said, “Uh, yeah, I think we do, actually. I’m game...” He paused, trying to compose himself. “…If you are?” When Steve nodded, Jax extended a hand toward the various cupboards.
Steve got up and moved over to the kitchen area to help Jax. Mr. Ichiko looked at Naomi and Kori, eyebrow raised.
Kori chuckled and glanced at Naomi. “Rumor is they hooked up a few weeks ago. Stevie won’t tell me anything, but I know they got in a fight and Stevie decked Jax before he and his brother shipped out on their last job.”
The other man leaned back, exhaling. “I see! I had wondered what the tension was about.” He shook his head. “Young people, so wasteful of time.” He smiled. “I guess I am the only one on this ship to have not slept with our Captain.” He turned in his seat to watch the two twenty-somethings prepare dinner for the others, missing Naomi’s pantomimed choking gesture. He turned back to the other two. “Well, maybe they’ll figure it out while we’re in wormhole transit.” He pointed to the screen. “More Fringe ?”