Ted grunted.  It would be three days before they reached New Russia – three days, which would give the aliens ample time to prepare a surprise.  He’d planned their approach to bring them into the system as far from the primary star as possible, but he was still uncomfortably aware that the aliens might well detect their arrival and come swarming.  Just what were they doing in the system, anyway?  There were no shortage of theories, yet there was no hard data.

“Thank you,” he said, wondering why Fitzwilliam hadn't suggested it in person.  It wasn't as if their relationship was that tense.  “Was there anything else he wanted to say?”

“Apparently, one of the reporters wants to talk to you,” Midshipwomen Lopez said.  “But I believe the XO has headed her off at the pass.”

“Understood,” Ted said.  “Tell him that I will speak to one reporter tomorrow.”

He rolled his eyes.  No doubt the reporters wanted reassurance from the command staff that they hadn't been in any real danger.  He wondered, absently, if they’d believe the truth, that the aliens had been the ones who had decided the tempo of operations.  If they’d pressed the offensive ... it was odd, when he thought about it.  The aliens had shown an odd sensitivity to losses.

Or maybe they were just scared of us, he thought.  By any standard, Ark Royal had hammered the aliens badly in the last encounter.  It would be comforting to believe that was true ...

Midshipwomen Lopez poured him a mug of tea, then turned and left the office.  Ted took a sip and realised, to his surprise, that the tea was actually real, rather than the processed seeds used to fuel the endless supplies of tea in the mess.  Someone – he suspected Fitzwilliam – had had them shipped onboard, then donated them to Lopez with orders to use them to make the Captain’s personal tea.  He hesitated, then took another sip of tea and started to read through the reports from the smaller ships.  Thankfully, the smaller navies hadn't developed the unfortunate tendency to be absurdly verbose, unlike the larger navies.

Unwilling to go further than he absolutely had to from the bridge, he walked over to the sofa, lay down and closed his eyes.  He had been more exhausted than he’d realised, for the next thing he knew was his timer bleeping frantically, reminding him that it was time to take his next shift on the bridge.  He pulled himself to his feet, hastily undressed and jumped into the shower, then washed himself clean before pulling on the same uniform.  It felt slightly unclean against his flesh, but there was no time to get a new one.