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Mister Barus found his captain and his captain’s guest lingering over their post-prandial coffee. “All of the officers have reported, sir, we are ready to cast off,” he said.
“Thank you Mister Barus,” said the captain. “Doctor, do you care to finish your coffee on the bridge?”
“Certainly,” said Doctor Russ, putting down his juice glass again and grabbing his mug instead.
They followed Barus back to the bridge, where they found the pilot; Panzer, sitting at the helm; a radioman; and a sensorman. “All desks report,” said the captain, taking up a position behind the helm and stepping into the familiar rhythm of casting off at an unfamiliar place, rather as if he had been asked to play a favorite song in an unaccustomed key.
“Helm, standing by,” said Panzer.
“Communications, standing by,” said the radioman, whose name plate read Cather.
“Sensors, standing by,” said the sensorman. His name plate read Durkin.
“Deck standing by,” said Barus. “Christmas tree is green across the board.”
“Pilot, cast off when ready and take us out,” said Captain O’Brian.
“Aye, sir,” said the pilot. “Communications, send signal 36 to the wharf. Deck, advise engineering to stand by.”
“Wharf replies with signal 37, sir.”
“Engineering is standing by.”
“Release the umbilical,” said the pilot.
The rush of the HVAC system stuttered briefly, but the lights and electrical power remained steady. “Umbilical cord released, sir.”
“Release coupling magnets.”
The mood lighting went out, and a peculiar lightness underfoot told them they were free of the wharf. “Magnet release confirmed,” said Barus.
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