There was a long pause from the other end of the conversation, until finally the doctor sighed. “I can’t say that I’m overjoyed to hear that, but thank you for the warning. I’ll have my staff standing by with relaxants.”

“Thank you, Doctor,” Weston nodded. “And make sure you have someone in Engineering, will you?”

“Certainly. I’m just thankful my newest patient is asleep. She doesn’t need any more stress.”

“The thought had crossed my mind, Doctor. In fact, if you think it’s wise, I’ll support adding a sedative to her air mix. To be frank, I’m hardly happy with how trained personnel react to transition. I wouldn’t want to deal with any untrained reactions, not if we can avoid it.”

“Agreed,” the doctor said after a moment. “I’ll check her vitals and consider adding something to slip her a little deeper.”

“Excellent, keep me apprised. Captain out.”

“Crossing the heliopause, sir.”

Weston nodded, taking his command chair. “Thank you, Daniels. Commander?”

“Yes, Captain?”

“Advise Winger that she’d better wrap up her scans. Then signal a transition alert.”

“Aye, Captain,” Roberts said, his voice thick with distaste.

Capt. Eric Weston did what he’d always done before a dangerous mission: he masked anything resembling nerves with a cool facade and hoped to God that no one saw through it. There was no sense in giving anyone else the silly idea that the captain didn’t trust the transition drive any more than they did.

Especially if the captain really didn’t trust it.

So far, he’d been lucky. His crew was too busy building their own facades to notice his.

So he smiled, looking relaxed, and the bridge crew around him relaxed themselves, even as the blue lights that marked a transition alert began to flash.

Ah, the glory of command.

The alert lasted for twenty minutes, until all sections had checked in as being ready, and then Weston gave the reluctant order.

“Activate transition drive.”

Everyone on the bridge winced as Lieutenant Daniels pressed the final command and slammed his eyes shut. Most everyone on the bridge did the same, except for Captain Weston and Commander Roberts.

Both men had time to note this fact and promise themselves they’d speak with the bridge crew about the dangers of entering a potentially hostile area with their eyes closed.

The swirling maelstrom of tachyon particles ripped them apart as the Odyssey transitioned out of the white giant system.

CHAPTER 7

TWENTY LIGHT-YEARS FROM where it began, the NACS Odyssey reintegrated into normal space with no external sign that anything unfavorable had occurred.

Internally, however, was a different story.

“Commander! All posts, report!” Weston ordered, diplomatically ignoring the retching sound coming from the lieutenant’s side.

Roberts waved a hand to an ensign, who took the hint and rushed to assist the unfortunate Lieutenant Daniels, who was losing his spaghetti dinner under the fire control station. As he was helped away, a young woman slid discreetly into his place, maneuvering her feet to avoid the mess on the floor.