"You been drinking?"

"No, sir. Just trying to be more personable like you asked me to," Barton said. "Too much?"

"I just said you didn't need to snarl at everyone we passed, not that you needed to be a smiling jackass."

"I'll adjust fire, Admiral."

"Let's go," Jackson said. "I'm needed on the bridge. Has Lieutenant Trapp indicated when the techs are going to be installing the new Bluebird gear Pike brought aboard?"

"She's supervising the installation at fourteen-hundred, sir," Barton said. "We wanted to make sure you and your family weren't disturbed."

"That's fine," Jackson said. "Make sure you're there, too."

"You don't trust Lieutenant Trapp, sir?" There was an almost-hopeful note in Barton's voice. He'd not fully warmed up to the intel officer now serving as Jackson's personal aide, and he hadn't been shy about voicing it to his boss.

"I trust Jillian, Celesta Wright, and you…in that order," Jackson said. "But Lieutenant Trapp has given me no reason to question her loyalties at this point. That courtesy does not extend to the team of technicians who will be crawling through my quarters and in my office installing a new avionics system, so I want you there."

"Understood, Admiral."

Jackson just shook his head. Barton had started his tour as his personal security detail as an aloof Marine who took his job very seriously. The constant threat of ESA sympathizers coupled with a few credible attempts on Jackson's life had pushed his wariness over the edge into paranoia. That being said, Jackson wasn't certain the NCO wasn't right to suspect everyone outside of his inner circle.

Even before he reached the bridge hatchway, he felt a change coming over the ship. The Saber had been in a high parking orbit and running on minimum engine power with no weapons or defensive countermeasures powered up. The low state of readiness meant half the reactors could be shut down completely for maintenance, and the remaining three were only running at thirty percent output to provide the needed power. Now, however, the ozone smell and tingle in the air of the ship ramping up her powerplant could be felt in the corridor.

"Report!"

"Emergency threat warning incoming from Fleet Intelligence, Admiral," Senior Captain Richard Ellsworth said. "There's credible intel that an ESA strike force could be inbound and arriving within the next forty-eight hours. I've ordered the taskforce to a defensive posture."

"Let me see the assessment, Captain," Jackson said, sitting at one of the elevated bridge stations. The captain nodded to the Saber's OPS Officer, who then sent the brief to the terminal.

Jackson skimmed the report and saw it was based on a sighting by an automated listening station. A small—suspected—ESA force of no more than six ships passed through an unpopulated system, and their exit vector allowed the analysts to project a possible target by casting a cone away from their jump point. The system Taskforce Wolfpack was in showed to be a twenty-eight percent probability it was the target.