There was no excuse for unprofessional flying.

He put the feeling down to precombat jitters, though that was a problem he’d not really had in a long time.

Guess I’m still a little unsure about flying this beast. Steph figured he could admit that much to himself without injuring his pride. He’d never, until the heat death of the universe itself, admit it to anyone else.

Idly, he patted the side of the station he was seated within, whispering to the ship as he had to his fighter many times in the past.

“Don’t you worry—we’ll get through this,” Steph said softly. “Those bastards out there, they’ve got nothing on us.”

He relaxed a little more and noted that his flight profile had smoothed out considerably in response. Steph had rarely felt so deep in the moment, even with NICS connected, as he did just then.

The itch on the back of his neck faded, replaced by an odd feeling of camaraderie, like someone was flying his wings. That feeling was the norm for Steph, and both Burner and Cardsharp were flying his wings.

All was right in the universe, for a little while at least.

►►►

► The bridge was a beehive of activity as Eric returned, acknowledging Commander Heath, who’d beat him back.

“Report,” he said simply as he took his station.

“No change,” Miram told him. “We’re still accelerating at one another at impossibly insane velocities. So far they don’t appear ready to blink.”

“Range to contact?” Eric set his fresh coffee down on a magnetic circle that would hold it in place against any of the mild turbulence they were likely to experience either from their close formation flying or a fight.

If they hit anything heavier, the odds were highly in favor of him not caring what happened to his coffee.

“Just under thirty light-minutes,” Miram said. “Contact is t-minus forty and counting. They’ll be compiling visual confirmation from our light anytime now, sir.”

Outwardly, Eric just nodded, but inside he was honestly shocked by the bogey’s closing velocities, mostly because of how quickly both sides had become intent on accelerating into one another.

“Well, if they’re that impatient, let’s kick this pig, shall we? Steph, our secret is about to be let out of the box. The first one, at least.”

“Aye sir,” Stephen said from the pilot’s station. His hands were steady on the controls, where’d they’d been since before the task force had transitioned into the system. “We’re ready.”

“Transition cannons, stand by to fire,” Eric said, moving on.

“T-cannons, standing by, aye sir,” Milla said from her station, not looking up from her console.

“Active scanners, stand ready.”

“Scanners are charged and standing by, Captain,” Sams said.

Eric smiled. “Well, then, you two . . . light them up.”

►►►

IBC Shion Thon, Flagship, Third Reconnaissance Squadron