Chance was not happy. He had fought this decision for months, years even if he thought about it. Yet after countless speeches of risk and assured disaster, he could not convince the Home Council to stop this mission. He couldn’t even convince them to give the assignment to someone else. Of course, when he really thought about it, he didn’t want them to.

“Captain,” Commander Jacobson said, approaching Chance. She looked curious, wondering why Chance was leaning on the thick glass that separated the Control Room from the emptiness of space. It was a place she found the captain often, but he seldom stood still there. Usually, he moved his fingers or bobbed on his feet, impatient to be doing something. His frozen stature there at the window made Jacobson worried. “We’re approaching the jump point. We should be ready shortly.”

Captain Chance Miles didn’t change his expression as he gazed blankly at the passing stars. “Are they ready?” he asked, still unmoving. His voice sounded flat and dry, like he needed a cool drink.

“Captain, if you don’t get off that glass you’re going to fall through,” Jacobson said with a brief laugh, and put a hand on Chance’s shoulder. “We’ll be fine.”

Chance stood straight and turned around. He quickly scanned the Control Room to see if anyone was watching him. All eight of those assigned there sat along the curved walls staring at screens or stood at one of the three semicircular monitor stations. Chance didn’t want to seem vulnerable, and luckily all the operators were busy preparing for the drive.

“Don’t do that,” Chance said quietly. While he didn’t want the crew worrying, he had to worry. In his opinion, that was the captain’s job, but he needed the crew confident and fearless. “Have they finished the diagnostics?” Chance rubbed the short whiskers on his face, the scraping comforting him. He’d forgotten to shave two days in a row now, normal for him.

Chance walked over to his monitor station in the middle of the Control Room. It was a semicircle with waist-high monitors blinking at him in an almost welcoming way. At any time, he could touch a screen and either talk to a specific person or speak to all in that area. There were also manual override controls sticking out in odd shapes from the bottom and front sides of several panels.

Essentially, he could control everything on the ship from this little spot. It was a daunting task for any captain. But Home captains were well trained to know their ships in and out. That was why Chance had been selected for this mission.

“They’re just about done. They should be ready right when we reach the mark, as ordered. But honestly, sir, I don’t know why you still need these checks. The ship’s as solid as a lave knife,” Jacobson said with a smile and a laugh. “You designed a lot of Bound yourself. Or is that why you’re so worried?”

“Bound can fly just fine,” Chance replied, still laughing inside at the silly name for the little ship. It had been a council member who suggested it. It was a combination of referring to how the drive worked and the mission it was designed to achieve. People from the Tellar continent had a very strange sense of humor. “But no ship, especially Bound, has made a drive this far. I don’t want us lost because a bolt was loose or a fuse was worn. Everything has to be perfect.”

The people on the monitor screens, working on one of the ship’s three other levels, scurried around looking at everything and running diagnostic programs. Everyone moved quickly, like children heading to a birthday party.

“It is, relax. We’ve got the path ready and we’re all set. All we’re waiting for is to get through the cluster and we’ll be…” Jacobson said, and cut off as she saw the door to the Control Room open.

In stepped a woman with a confident smile and a pristine, white crown on her head. She closed the door behind her, not making a sound. As she walked, her blazingly white dress flowed with her elegant steps. She stopped close to Chance and looked through the large viewing window at the front of the Control Room. Three layers of thick, curving glass showed in the distance the threat they were about to dive into.

The woman’s overall white appearance contrasted deeply with the tan and reddish-brown of the crew’s uniforms as she smiled out the window. Chance always wondered why if Corrin wanted to come on this mission she didn’t wear the slacks and light shirts of the crew. But she was a Prophet. And Chance made a point to never delve too deep into the affairs of the Sevens Prophets, especially White ones.

“Captain, I have to say once again how beautiful the ship is. I’ve been up and down everywhere and I’m still amazed,” Corrin said.

Chance cleared his throat, as if he was tired. He didn’t want the help of the Sevens Prophets, not on his ship.

Chance tried to hide his annoyance and replied, “Your compliments always come too easily for us, Corrin. I’ll bet that if we were flying in a steel can you’d be happy. And you’d compliment the design all day as long as we were on this mission.”

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Corrin had been almost giddy once they reached open space. She had been on many drive runs herself, to help with talks between Home’s newly discovered, lifeless planets. She even used to be Ruby’s ambassador. But it was this mission that she had been thrilled about from the beginning. Chance didn’t know why.

It’s just some silly discovery mission, Chance thought, wishing the Prophet would go back to her room and stop meddling.

Corrin smiled and walked over to Chance, putting a hand on his high shoulder. “Hello Ashley,” Corrin said to Commander Jacobson with a smile, letting her slim hand slide uncaringly off Chance’s shoulder. The man was tall and angular in face and features, not used to being ignored. Corrin was smooth and tall as well, with a round face and an hourglass shape. She was used to ignoring Chance. “I hope you’ve been able to speak with your husband back on Home. Did he get the package I sent?”

Jacobson blushed and said, “He did, and we’re very grateful for the help, Corrin. I did speak with him before we left but since this drive is so far I don’t think we can talk before I get back. He’s busy with the hospital anyway and—”

“Nonsense.” Corrin brushed a little strand of hair away from Jacobson’s eye. “I’ll let you speak with your man whenever you want.”

“Jacobson, I need those reports. Keep your personal life out of the mission,” Chance said, disgusted with Corrin’s meddling as he twisted a little knob on his panel, adjusting the heat of the Control Room down a degree.

Jacobson cleared her throat. “Sorry, Captain,” she said, and walked away. She made up for her momentary lapse in professionalism by double-checking everything on the report’s checklist.

“I see Chance is still grumping,” Corrin said to no one in particular. “Don’t worry, dear captain. You’ll soon be so engrossed in this new planet that you’ll forget all about your grievances. I know you’re just as excited about this discovery as I am.”

She smiled at him. It didn’t help Chance’s mood that she was perfectly correct.

“Did you do your check?” Chance asked.

One benefit, one of few in Chance’s mind, of having a White Prophet onboard was that they could check conditions of the ship. They claimed it was similar to the way they could sense other people’s feelings or injuries. The only difference was it transferred to a machine. Chance didn’t care about the details. Right then, all he cared about was what lay ahead.

He could see it, a million tiny, sharp specks darting ahead just coming into view and swirling as if in a hurricane.

“Done. Bound is fully ready. She’ll do Home proud,” Corrin said. As she spoke the name of the planet they had left, she seemed to smother a warm giggle.

Prophets always commented on the quaintness of the planet’s name. It might have been because most were from the planet Sevens, the location of which the Prophets never fully divulged. They were very touchy about being from another planet, and only recently did Chance’s people realize this fact, as if the Prophets thought the knowledge would hinder Home in some way.

The door opened again and Mechanic Officer Mic Selms stepped into the Control Room. “All set, Captain. Ready ta go when you are,” Mic said in his sharp and choppy Islander accent as he closed the door behind him.

“You ready to pilot us through?” Chance asked the hardy mechanic. As a rule, all long-range pilots must be expert technicians. And, as with the rest of Bound’s crew, Mic was the best at what he did.

“Astroid cluster should be no problem,” Mic said as he took the controls, positioned a little forward of Chance’s monitors in the small, oval-shaped room. “Bound’s mostly an engine anyway. Small size’ll make flyin’ easier.”

The woman sitting at the helm before calmly got up to allow the expert to take over.

“Like steerin’ an over-sized light bulb I always say,” Mic added.

“Just don’t shatter it,” Jacobson said as she handed Chance the diagnostics report.

Mic laughed a little and popped his fingers.

“Some day they’ll make a navigation system that doesn’t need gravity points to plot a course. Then we could bypass this old neutron star completely,” Chance said. He crossed his arms, concern painting his face as he peered at the spotless report.

“Why don’t you get on designing that, Captain,” Corrin said with a smile.

Chance ignored her, but made a note to start on that when he got back in his bunk.

“Inform the crew we’re approaching the cluster. And take your position,” Chance said, leaning over his monitors. He hoped they could make it through.

“Will be, sir,” Jacbson said, and walked over to the controls behind the captain.

Along this row was a jumble of old-fashioned switches mixed with flashing computerized systems. There was even a large red switch near the door that shut down the whole ship. It looked a bit ridiculous, but put minds like Chance’s at ease. Even the coffeemakers had squeeze pumps on ships of the Home Fleet. Chance was quite proud of his manual coffee makers. Everyone knew that the method was a little less flashy, but always got the job done.

Jacobson knelt into the microphone to address the crew. “Attention. Ship is entering Storm Star Cluster. All stations be on alert. Mechanical crew to posts,” she said.

Chance double-checked the condition of Bound’s four levels. The engine took up most of the first two levels, and nothing seemed wrong with it. The small cargo bay on the first level had the surveying equipment strapped down tight. Besides the bulk of the engine, the second level was Mechanics, and Chance nodded with satisfaction at the busy crew, taking up stations to handle any problem the drive might have. Third level was crew bunks, eats hall, and a few recreational areas to battle boredom. They were empty. The tiny fourth level was the Control Room, and Chance didn’t have to look to know everyone here was attentive and eager. He looked anyway.

An officer sitting at a station next to Mic pressed a button and a squealing siren sounded repeatedly. Five short bursts signaled Bound was entering an asteroid area. This was the main reason, besides the long drive, that Chance didn’t want the mission to happen.

He sighed. If it’s gotta happen, I’ll see it through, Chance thought as he tensed and readied his thoughts for the challenge to come.

“Take us in,” he said.