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Behind him was theHan ’s spinning center section, containing the mess, the rec room, and the sleepchambers. There was no gravity on the bridge, however. The diplomatic shuttle had been designed forthe comfort of its passengers, not the crew.
It didn’t seem to bother Dr. Halsey. Strapped into the navigator’s couch, she wore a white jumpsuit thatmatched her pale skin, and had tied her dark hair into a simple, elegant knot. Her fingers danced acrossfour keypads, tapping in commands.
“Welcome, Lieutenant,” she said without looking up. “Please have a seat at the communication stationand monitor the channels when we enter normal space. If there’s so much as a squeak on nonstandardfrequencies, I want to know instantly.”
He drifted to the communication station and strapped himself down.
“Toran?” she asked.
“Awaiting your orders, Dr. Halsey,” the ship AI replied.
“Give me astrogation maps of the system.”
“Online, Dr. Halsey.”
“Are there any planets currently aligned with our entry trajectory and Eridanus Two? I want to pick up agravitational boost so we can move in-system ASAP.”
“Calculating now, Doctor Hal—”
“And can we have some music? Rachmaninov’s Piano Concerto Number Three, I think.”
“Understood Doctor—”
“And start a preburn warm-up cycle for the fusion engines.”
“Yes, Doc—”
“And stop spinning theHan ’s central carousel section. We may need the power.”
“Working . . . ”
She eased back. The music started and she sighed. “Thank you, Toran.”
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“You’re welcome, Dr. Halsey. Entering normal space in five minutes, plus or minus three minutes.”
Lieutenant Keyes shot the doctor an admiring glance. He was impressed—few people could put ashipboard AI through its paces so rigorously as to cause a detectable pause.
She turned to face him. “Yes, Lieutenant? You have a question?”
He composed himself and pulled his uniform jacket taut. “I was curious about our mission, ma’am. Iassume we are to reconnoiter something in this system, but why send a shuttle, rather than a prowler or acorvette? And why just the two of us?”
She blinked and smiled. “A fairly accurate assumption and analysis, Lieutenant. Thisis a reconnaissancemission . . . of sorts. We are here to observe a child. The first of many, I hope.”
“A child?”
“A six-year-old male, to be precise.” She waved her hand. “It may help if you think of this purely as aUNSC-funded physiological study.” Every trace of a smile evaporated from her lips. “Which is preciselywhat you are to tell anyone who asks. Is that understood, Lieutenant?”
“Yes, Doctor.”
Keyes frowned, retrieved his grandfather’s pipe from his pocket, and turned it end over end. He couldn’tsmoke the thing—igniting a combustible on the flight deck was against every major regulation on aUNSC space vehicle—but sometimes he just fiddled with it or chewed on the tip, which helped himthink. He stuck it back into his pocket, and decided to push the issue and find out more.