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Lewis Station and prepare to hold off Confederate forces if it comes to that. The Third Fleet will meet you there as soon as they can.”
     
    “Yes, ma’am.”
     
    “Updated nav data is being downloaded to the Lincoln now. Please confirm.”
     
    “Confirmed, Captain!” Lieutenant Davorian replied from the helm at the foremost/uppermost control station.
     
    Alexander nodded. “We’re ready to go, Admiral.”
     
    “Good luck, Captain. You are at T-minus ten minutes to launch. Flores out.”
     
    The admiral’s face disappeared, and back was the underside of Orbital One. “Helm! Set the clock and alert the crew! T-minus ten.”
     
    “Aye-aye, Captain!” Davorian replied.
     
    A green launch timer appeared at the top of the ship’s main holo display, counting down from ten minutes.
     
    Alexander turned to his XO. “Commander Korbin—” She turned to him, her pale blue eyes wide and unfocused. He frowned and snapped his fingers. “Wake up, Commander!”
     
    Korbin shook herself, as if waking from a dream—More like a nightmare, he thought—and then she said, “Yes, sir!”
     
    “Double-check everyone’s launch checklists. We can’t afford to have any mistakes.”
     
    “Aye, sir,” Korbin said, already consulting her holo displays.
     
    “Lieutenant Stone!” Alexander called out, keeping half an eye on the launch timer as he turned to the Lincoln’s starfighter and drone command station. “What’s the status of 61st Squadron?”
     
    “They’re getting suited up, sir.”
     
    “Tell them to pick up the pace! I don’t want anyone plastered to the bulkheads when we fire up the mains.”
     
    “Yes, sir. They’ve drilled for this. Five minutes to suit, four more to hit their cockpits and strap in. That leaves one for margin of error.”
     
    “I’m going to trust you on that, Stone.”
     
    Due to comm latency (speed-of-light restricted), manned fighters still had their place. At a distance of just three hundred thousand klicks, a remote pilot would be reacting a full two seconds after everything had already happened (one second for information to reach the pilot, and another for him to send commands back to his remote vehicle). To get around that, manned fighters followed drones into combat and commanded them from behind.
     
    “Gunnery! Engineering! What’s our status?”
     
    “All gunners standing by, weapons hot,” Lieutenant Cardinal replied from the gunnery station.
     
    “Good. Engineering?”
     
    “All systems green, sir,” Junior Lieutenant McAdams replied.
     
    “T-minus five!” Lieutenant Hayes called out from the comms.
     
    Alexander nodded. “Safety harness check!”
     
    Everyone tugged on their buckles and tightened their belts. Alexander pulled his own straps taut. When they reached T-minus zero, the Lincoln would detach from Orbital One, rotate to put her engines where her nose used to be, and then ignite her main thrusters and rocket away at a regulation three and a half Gs.
     
    Alexander looked up at the main holo display, his eyes idly tracing constellations while he waited for the launch timer to run down. As the minutes slipped by, his thoughts turned to his wife. He hoped things would calm down and that she wouldn’t be affected by this latest power struggle. If open war broke out and something happened to her…
     
    “61st Squadron is strapped in and waiting, Captain!” Stone reported from starfighter command.
     
    Alexander noted the launch timer was down to fifteen seconds. That was close. “Good. Let’s hope they were the last ones. McAdams, crew safety check!”
     
    “All hands securely strapped in and waiting for launch.”
     
    “T-minus ten seconds!” Davorian called out from the helm. “Nine, eight… three, two, one, zero! Docking clamps detached!”
     
    Suddenly Alexander was weightless and watching Orbital One drift away. It was an opaque black disc with weapon emplacements sprouting like barnacles from its outer hull. Within