The door opened up, and a tall, slender woman with short, spiky brown hair walked in, her uniform spotless. “You wanted to see me, Commander?” Olya “Lynx” Federov commanded Dauntless’s Red Squadron.

“Yes, thank you…come in and have a seat.” Jamison’s eyes glanced over toward the other pilots in the room, mostly the ones who had been listening to Stockton’s story. “If you all don’t mind, I’d like to have a chat with the squadron commanders.”

The pilots responded with a bunch of nods and a ragged series of, “Yes, sirs.” Jamison watched silently as they filtered out of the room.

“I don’t want to overreact,” he said, just after the door slid shut. “I don’t have any specific knowledge…and for that matter, I’m pretty sure the captain doesn’t either. But he’s worried…and that has me worried.” He moved his eyes slowly from one of them to the other. “I want all of you to do everything possible to make sure your people are ready. Maximum simulator time. I’d even like to try to turn routine patrols into training exercises. Try to assign less experienced pilots with some of your veterans…or better still, go out with them yourselves when you can.”

“Certainly, Commander.” Federov spoke first, her tone rigidly professional as always. There was a certain freewheeling culture in the fighter corps, but Federov was atypically formal in her bearing.

“Maybe we can run some extra patrols too.” Stockton was businesslike now too, all hint of the undisciplined bad boy gone. “It would be some extra flight time, at least.”

“We might be able to do that, Jake…though we’re accelerating hard toward the transwarp link, so there may be limited opportunities.” He paused. “I just want to be sure all your people are ready.”

The three officers nodded.

Jamison knew their three formations weren’t the problem. Dauntless carried four squadrons. The Blues were the best, though he suspected Ice would have argued that point. His Yellows were close behind. Federov’s Red Squadron had a higher proportion of newer pilots, but he knew the gifted officer had forged her people into a capable unit.

Green squadron was the problem. The Greens had lost their commander a few months before, to a transfer thankfully and not in action. Lieutenant Hogan had gotten a promotion to lieutenant commander and an assignment to take over Defiant’s fighter wing. The Greens had been the least experienced formation already, and Jamison hadn’t considered any of its officers ready for a jump up to squadron leader. He’d held off naming anybody, and he’d filled the role himself. But even with his personal attention, he knew the Greens would have a hard time if they ended up facing veteran pilots.