Callie sighed. “Fine. But we’ll be watching you, Lantern. Follow my orders over there, and don’t improvise. I’m going up to the cockpit. I’ll take tactical control there. Ship, tell everyone to get strapped in and ready for our next bridge passage.”

She climbed back to the nose of the ship and strapped into the left-hand chair beside Drake and Janice. “System pre-checks done?”

Drake said, “The Tanzer drive is happy, life support is happy, weapons are online, defenses are operational, everything is green on all boards.”

“Everyone else ready?” She got affirmatives from the ship, the crew, Elena, and the Liar, and nodded. “Ashok, as soon as you can, open a bridge to our new position.” She pulled up the tactical screen, its layout already set to her preferences, with lots of interesting new sliders and dials indicating their improved offensive capabilities. She almost hoped she would get to blow something up. It seemed a shame to have all this shiny new ordnance and not to use it.

Callie was thrumming with energy, her body still flooded with happy chemicals from her time with Elena, all intensified by the adrenaline buzz she always got before launching into an operation. She could eat suns, shatter moons, conquer galaxies. She loved this feeling. It was a shame about the likelihood of death waiting on the other side, but the danger only enhanced her current sense of vitality.

“The generator appears to be back online,” Ashok said. “Opening the bridge.”

A swirl of iridescent black appeared outside the viewscreen, liquid against the airless void, and spread out in a lazy languid blossom. This time the tendrils didn’t reach out and seize their ship, though, as it had in the emergency situation: the bridge just coalesced, and then floated, a waiting darkness, its ragged edges drifting like the fronds of an anemone. “Drake, take us in,” Callie said.

The Raven eased forward, the Tanzer drive barely engaged, and nosed them through the bridgehead. Then the tendrils enveloped them, surrounded them, and they were transported to the liminal space, the tunnel of–

Light. Just as Drake had described it, a bright white strobe of light flickered by, very fast. Too fast to make out the nature of the tunnel, but the lights were close, like the space they were moving through was barely big enough for them. That had to be variable, though, didn’t it? Ships fifty times the size of the White Raven passed through bridgeheads all the time.