"Get the report by morning," Jaya told the ensign. "I want every coil checked over twice."

"Yes, ma'am," the noncom said.

Cutter clicked his mandibles next to her. "Much work. Will have to take magnetic accelerators fully offline for such a check. You feel necessary so soon after refit?"

"No," Jaya admitted. "If anything, I think the Craton is in the best shape she's been in for years. But that check was done by the shipyard crews, and I want our people to look over it and see what she looks like in good repair, under little pressure. Then, if something does go wrong they will have first-hand knowledge of how it should look."

Cutter considered that, stroking his front limbs over his antennae in thought. "Interesting. Familiarity does bring comfort. I endorse this plan."

Jaya smiled and stepped away from the Chief Engineer. Beetle-slugs worked a lot differently than people - among the most alien of aliens that humanity dealt with regularly, but she always found them admirable in how reasonable and efficient they were.

As she walked along the gunnery deck, she watched the crews as they went through a loading drill. The drive coils for the magnetic cannons were not activated, and the shells they were loading were not explosive, so there was little danger.

The 'shell' itself was massive. Three meters long and of a pointed spitzer shape, it was menacing even when laying still. The tip was an ultra-dense metamaterial composed mostly of tungsten. Even when the projectile was accelerated to a significant fraction of the speed of light, it would not deform.

Their launch tunnels could propel something as big as a ten-meter projectile that weighed over 2200 tons. But such a thing was such absurd overkill - and the recoil upon the ship could be dangerous - that they could not accelerate it to nearly the same velocity as a smaller projectile.

The three-meter shell was still far too heavy for any number of crew to lift. Instead, a series of robotic arms and conveyors moved the projectile.

Normally no human input was required, but in this drill the system AI was having a problem - a miniscule chance of it happening, but they drilled for it all the same.

Ensigns and non-coms moved sections of conveyor belt in front of the shell, it taking six of them to move each section even with stout powered exosuits that increased their strength ten-fold. Yet it was still easier - and safer - to move the shell this way.

It still weighed over seven tons.

One officer was manually operating the grabber arm to pick it up and load it into the chamber. He was young, eager, and Jaya was watching him carefully.

"It's slipping!" someone yelled.

She saw that the crews moving the conveyor belt had not been able to keep up - or perhaps those managing the movement of the shell itself on the last section had not kept its speed under control.

Everyone jumped back as the shell crashed to the floor. The decks of the Craton could withstand huge impacts and massive weights, but the sound of a seven ton object falling half a meter was still massive.

It began to roll, headed towards the officer with the mechanical arm.

She stepped forward, but stopped herself. Despite the failure, this was not a disaster yet - the shell was rolling slowly, and the officer had plenty of time to move, he had eyes on the shell-

But he wasn't moving. Instead, he squatted, bringing the grabbing arm in line to catch the errant shell.

"Move!" she roared, sprinting forward.

The young officer's face went to alarm as she yelled.

"Do not try to catch that shell, Lieutenant!" she barked. "Get the hell out of its path!"

The man let go of the robotic arm and jumped clear.

And just in time; the shell reached the arm, rolling slowly, but crumpled the grasping claws on impact, rolling halfway up the arm before going back.

Cursing to herself, Jaya stopped and let the shell roll back by her. It hit a bulkhead and crumpled it, finally coming to a halt.

"That shell would have killed you," she told the officer. "And if you had not left the arm in the way, it would not have been destroyed and the shell would have stopped when it reached the loader base."

"I understand, ma'am, I'm sorry ma'am," the young man said. His face was pale.

"Don't be sorry. Remember this, and think through future situations like this. Compare the potential cost - your life - against the potential gain."

It didn't escape her attention that the whole group were shaken.

"Take ten," she ordered them.

Waving some of her orderlies over, she gave them instructions to get the group separated. Apart, they'd work through their fear. Together, they'd not let it drop.

The group went over, pulling apart the nervous crew and chatting them up.

With that settled, she summoned a series of drones to begin repairing the damaged mechanical arm and to re-stow the loose artillery shell.

As they began into that task, she got a notification; it was from Dr. Logus. The man was asking to speak to her - and he was already waiting.

She saw him now, standing patiently by the door.

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Jaya walked up to him. "Doctor," she said.

"Commander. Might I have a word?"

"Of course," she replied.

She was not one to sit idle, however. They began to stride along the edge of the room, staying away from others. Logus stepped into pace with her.

"First, though, I'd just like to say it was a pleasure seeing you handle your crew. You seemed to have a very good handle on the situation - even when it went out of control."

She accepted his words with just a nod; she did not care for compliments, even when appropriate. "Why did you wish to speak with me?" she asked, hoping to cut through unnecessary politenesses.

The man saw that, and stopped. "The Captain has made a decision that I find myself questioning. I have objected, but my words have fallen on deaf ears."

That did not give her any pause. "If it is a ship-related matter, then that is his prerogative as Captain," she replied.

"He plans on sending a manned mission to the Terris System," Logus stated.

She froze. "You are joking," she said, eyes narrowing.

"I would not make such a joke," the man replied. "I am serious - as is the Captain."

"He would not order such an expedition on a whim," she said, troubled now. "Why is he doing it?"

Logus took a deep breath. "There is a situation that requires explanation. I am cleared to tell who I deem based on Admiral-Doctor Urle's orders."

He told her.

Of Denso, of the events with Apollonia, Ambassador Kell - all they knew and did not know.

When he finished, Jaya was silent. Her eyes flickered to the sides, where she gazed into the distance. Processing it all.

"This is why I bring this to you, Commander Yaepanaya. You are the one person who I believe has the perspective to see how questionable these orders are, along with the necessary rank."

Her eyes narrowed. "Are you asking me to counter-mand Captain Brooks's orders?"

Logus's face was flat. "That is entirely at your discretion. I only wish for you to speak to the man, get him to try and reconsider this mission. My goal is not to undermine Brooks. If it was, there are other channels that I could pursue."

He glanced around, checking that no one was in earshot. "But if his mission goes, and the Response Team suffer major casualties, his decision will be questioned and I do not believe it will be judged as sound."

"I am glad you are not asking me to betray my captain,," Jaya replied. "Because if you had asked that of me, I would have considered it attempted mutiny and had you thrown in the brig."

The man was shocked. "Commander, surely you can see how irrational this is-"

"On the contrary," she told him. "In his place, I would order the same investigation, regardless of the cost. We have to know, Doctor."

Logus set his jaw. "I understand, Commander. My apologies for wasting your time."

*******

Tred swallowed again. It was hard, his mouth and throat both were too dry.

"One minute until launch," he heard Lt. Commander Caraval say.

"Oh god," he muttered.

He couldn't avoid that he was going to be accelerated to an absolutely ludicrous speed. He just wanted it to be over with.

"Thirty seconds."

Still enough time to worry. He fidgeted in his seat.

"Stay still," Pirra said, grabbing his hand and pinning it to the arm of the chair.

She seemed annoyed at him, he thought.

But she was right; there was a significantly higher chance of him getting hurt if he was moving. The last thing he wanted was to get some broken fingers; they probably would only patch them up en route and he'd just have to work with his fingers broken. He gripped onto the seat.

"Ten seconds," Caraval said.

"All packaged and ready to go!" Pirra shouted.

"And ship us off to hell!" the rest of the Response Team shouted back.

They launched, and the force threw him back in his seat. His system informed him that they had reached 6g . . .

It lasted for just a moment. After they left the launch tube, there were a few moments before the burn began. He was thrown back again.

The g-forces inched towards 7 . . . The color had drained from his vision.

"Grayout detected," his system flashed on the screen.

Everything went black, and he heard the rest of the team whooping.

He did not lose consciousness, but he wished he had.

The burn finally ended, and he gasped. "Ohthankgod!"

Pirra patted his arm. "You all right?" she said. She seemed perfectly normal.

"I'm fine," he said.

He usually blacked out during these launches. The first time he'd told them, and they'd scanned him and told him that it was nothing to worry about. He was just a passenger until they reached their target.

"I think my suit is defective," he muttered. "That's all."

Pirra's expression didn't change, but her crest moved slightly. His system told him that it was showing doubt.

"Run suit diagnostic," he muttered, trying to keep up with his story.

Pirra looked away. Out of pity or annoyance, he didn't know.

Or maybe it's neither, he tried to tell himself. It's what Dr. Logus had told him. People respected him for the skills he possessed, that's why they always asked him to go on these missions.

Because it seemed to him they asked a little too often. Sure, he was rated for them - he took every training class he could on emergency situations! But that wasn't because he wanted to be in them, he just didn't want to get caught unprepared.

"We'll be entering the gate in two minutes thirty," Iago said. "Everyone do a final check that you have everything you're going to need for the next four days. Once we jump there's no coming back until mission accomplished."

The crew went about the task with solemn attitudes. Tred did so as well, checking his suite of sensors, his changes of clothes, and so on. The shuttle was small; barely more than a long box. It had a little space for moving around, and one small head that would have to be shared among them all. It meant only two people could be up and moving at at time, and there was a strict timetable on relieving themselves.

He wished there was a training mission for the awkwardness of it all.

All of his equipment was there, all stowed safely.

He realized he had to pee.

The timer for the gate said less than a minute.

He lurched in his seat, wondering if he had time to go. But no, he probably didn't - if he could just run there and back, maybe, but he was strapped down.

"Okay, everyone, forty-five seconds. Estimate that we'll be locked down for about thirty minutes after we enter - gonna be bumpy at least that long."

Tred groaned. This was going to be a long flight out.