The Pynx aboard Republic served one primary purpose; a retreat for the senior staff to unwind in a limited social environment. Not quite the full-on crew interaction of the Agora, nor the complete privacy of personal quarters. Its atmosphere was designed for a cosy, relaxed space, with warm lighting, low comfy chairs and exposed wood furnishings. The bar with a variety of syntehol and real alcohol behind it didn’t hurt either.

“It’s not possible,” Evan Malcolm said, shaking his head as he set his pint down on the table between him and three others, the only people in the Pynx. “With the inertial dampeners we have on this ship, there is no way she can tell if the ship changed course without reading some instrumentation or looking out a window at the moment of the change.”

“Say it all you want,” Cat Saez responded with a shrug, “but Willow did. Three times. Either she can, or she’s got a cybernetic implant we don’t know about. Care to comment, Doc?”

“No comment,” Blake Pisani answered. “But I’ve seen her party trick myself and still don’t believe it.” She to set her drink down, something vaguely orange, fruity smelling and with a cute little umbrella that she’d found behind the bar while making everyone’s drinks earlier. Her hands came together with her index fingers pointing at Evan. “You’re right, it’s not possible. But she can do it anyway. So maybe, just maybe, don’t be so dismissive when junior officers tell you they can do something?”

“I wonder how she actually does it.” Matt Lake, the fourth member around the table, was the only one drinking something steaming, a mug cupped in his hands and held close. “Must be some sort of trick to it.”

“If there is, she ain’t telling,” Cat said. “One of the Witches asked her and all they got was ‘always been able to’ as an answer. And not much more, really. Girl’s got talent, but she really doesn’t like my team.”

“Oh, that’s easy.” Blake’s drink was back in her hand, a smile tossed to Evan, who was sulking in his chair at her gentle telling-off. “She’s a pilot, but you’re a fighter pilot. You got the fun job, and she’s stuck flying the ship.”

“Oh, it’s more than that,” Cat replied. “That’s just natural. Hell, you get that between small-ship and big-ship helmsfolk too. But whatever she’s got going on is a touch more than that.”

“Naturally,” Blake said, conceding the point. “I’ve got no idea how to fix that, sadly. Outside of some really bad ones informed by really bad movies from four hundred years ago.”

“Fine, being able to sense when a ship moves is something Beckman can do,” Evan said, re-entering the conversation. “That still doesn’t excuse an ‘educated hunch’ as to why something is wrong with that Hysperian junker.”

“Back to insulting the Hysperians?” Matt’s tone was chiding. “So what if they want to putz about in space-castles and pretend to live in some fantasy world if they aren’t harming anyone? You’re just annoyed I sent you over there.”

“Damn straight,” Evan answered. “Waste of an afternoon and we still haven’t fixed their problems.”

“What’s wrong with the Hohenzollern?” Cat asked.

“Their captain, commander, whatever, wants them to do their top speed of warp seven. But they made some engine modifications to protect the engines against subspace radiation and exotic matter and now can barely get six point five.” Even shook his head, his frown showing his disgust. “Those engines were operating at the edge of their design envelope to start with. You can’t make changes and expect them to work just fine.”

“Why would they need to protect their engines from subspace radiation and exotic matter?” Matt asked. “They planning on spending a month gallivanting around the heart of the Archanis Nebula? The pulsar at the heart is an absolute beast, but it’s nothing special and has been studied before.”

“Forsooth, a dragon most dangerous,” Cat said, talking to her drink, which she now held aloft. “We must sally forth to gather materials for our alchemists most wise.”

“Who knows,” Evan said. “For all I know, the Knight-Captain, or Viscount, or Grand Poobah, just saw the shielding material somewhere and decided they liked the colour and wanted it. But whatever the reasoning being, we made some improvements for them and Michelle is running some simulations right now to see if we can’t help them get a bit closer to their goal.”

“A wise and clever blacksmith is he,” Cat continued, “who arcaned the mysteries most foul and saved the kingdom from the purgatory of a snail’s pace.”

“You spend an afternoon dealing with people who believe they’re lordly knights or whatever and then tell me you aren’t being really, really annoying right now.” Evan’s glare was locked on Cat as he spoke. “Seriously Matt,” his attention shifted to the other man, “I owe you one.”

“Revenge will be convoluted, well thought out and unexpected?” Matt replied. “I look forward to it. Unlike you, Evan, I enjoy a challenge.”

“Then you lead the next engineering team that goes over.”

“Engineering team,” Matt replied. “Kind of implies an engineer.”

“They won’t expect you to actually do anything. That’s what your squires are for.” Evan’s disgust was apparent in his tone. “Elitest bullshit.”

“Well, if you really don’t want to do it, I’ll go.” Cat shrugged, then looked at Blake. “Oh Knight Blake, accompany me to the Hohenzollern when next we send our capable engineers to mend their ills?”

“I’m not talking like that, and I’m not wearing a dress,” Blake answered. “But sure, if we can get the bosses to sign off on it.”

“Sign off on what?” asked a voice from the door of the Pynx as it slid open. Captain MacIntyre quickly joined his officers at Blake’s side, handing her a small paperbag with a logo on the front proclaiming ‘Ardot’s Café, best food in the city’.

“Evan here doesn’t want to go back over to the Hohenzollern after yesterday. So Cat suggested she and I lead the follow-up engineering team when they finish coming up with a fix for their engine problems.” Blake inspected the contents of the bag, then looked up at Mac with a smile. “For me?”

“Spinach and cream cheese savoury,” Mac explained. “And no problems from me. Though Evan, why? Fancy starcastle like that, and you get to put on some airs and pretend to be a knight for a bit.”

“We had the Enlightenment for a reason,” Evan answered.

“You didn’t insult them and get challenged to a duel, did you?” Mac asked.

“No, sir.”

“Good. Let’s leave that to the Commander if she gets around to talking to them. In the meantime, Matt, I need you to dig up everything you can on Genesis and Daystrom that you can. And if you can’t, get me, and I’ll authorise any searches.”

“Genesis? As in Project Genesis?” Matt’s brow scrunched up in concern. “That crazy device responsible for the planet Locarno?”

Mac’s finger snap was as sudden as it was loud. “That has been bugging me since Ardot said the word Genesis.” He looked at Blake, then at the bag she held, then back at her. “Sidda’s information broker is a chef, and that pastry is to die for.”

“Of course it is,” Evan grumbled. “Sir, are we really going to-”

“Stop,” Mac said, cutting Evan off. “Honestly, Evan, I’m getting tired of your complaints about Commander Sadovu. I’ve heard you, it’s on record. But until she does something that breaks the regs, she’s this ship’s executive officer. And so far, she’s done nothing to break my trust. She’s the one with the contacts to help with the mission we’ve been assigned, so yes, if she says they are good for their word, then I’m going to accept that until I have a reason not to.”

The silence stretched before Evan Malcolm nodded his head once. “Understood, sir.”

“Good. Now, I’m off to relieve Selu on the bridge. We’ll have a staff meeting start of next shift so the Commander and I can bring everyone up to date with what we know and hopefully Matt you’ll have something to share as well.”

“Oh, right, yes,” Matt stammered out. “Genesis and Daystrom Institute.”

“Thank you,” Mac said. “As you were folks.” Then he gave Blake a wink before heading out the door.

“Locarno,” Cat said, dragging the word out. “Wasn’t that the whole Nova Fleet shit in the 80s in the Detrion system?”

“Oh yeah,” Matt answered. “So, it all started with…”