It was seven days until the Assembly voted on peace or war with the Union of Border Worlds. One week.
That single thought kept going through Captain William Eisen’s head as he shook the hands of the BWS Intrepid’s crew. Young men and women, in his eyes. Some he had met less than a week ago, others he had known since the Kilrathi War. But all had become dear to him in their own way.
Catscratch, Maniac, Panther, Hawk, and the man he had appointed as the acting captain, Christopher "Maverick" Blair, all warmly shook his hand. Eisen then ascended the ramp to the Confed-model shuttle, turning around at the top to salute those who had become his crew.
"Good luck, sir."
It was, of course, Chris Blair who had spoken the words. And it was obvious they came from the heart.
"Same to you, Colonel," Eisen replied warmly. As he turned to enter the shuttle, he added softly, "Same to you all..."
Because somehow William Eisen knew they would need it even more than he. As the shuttle door closed and Eisen’s fateful mission began, it was them he worried about, not himself.
SHUTTLE GILAD; PASSENGER
SECTION
THE PROXIMA SYSTEM, DOUGLAS QUADRANT, VEGA SECTOR
2673.071; 1903 HOURS (CST)
A sudden flash of light, paired with a sound like that of a sparking firecracker and the slight rocking of the shuttle as it emerged from jumpspace, woke up Captain William Eisen. With a grumble, he rose his head from the uncomfortable sleeping bunk, and glanced at the digital wall clock.
"The Assembly votes almost exactly four days from now," the old captain said to himself. It was a realization that didn’t make him particularly happy. Eisen raised from the bunk and promptly hit his head on the all-too-low ceiling.
The already cramped conditions of this shuttle had been made even worse by the "special modifications" Chief Technician Robert Sykes had insisted upon making before Eisen’s departure from the Intrepid. His ideas had increased Eisen’s safety, no doubt, but at the cost of already scarce moving space.
So far we haven’t needed your help, Pliers, the captain thought while rubbing his head. Let’s hope it stays that way.
The two Banshee-class fighters that had escorted Eisen out of Border Worlds territory had returned to the Intrepid long ago. He was, after all, headed toward the Proxima System on the Douglas outskirts of the Vega Sector. It was one of the Confederation’s core systems, one jump from Sol Sector and only two jumps away from Sol System—and Earth itself. Border Worlds fighters were likely to draw more than a little attention there.
The fact that Eisen had left in a Confederation-model shuttle had no doubt helped avoid trouble, and was probably the reason they didn’t immediately open fire on the unregistered craft back at Farao Station, nearly two days ago. The identification algorithm that got the shuttle cleared in time had been part of the data confiscated at the Orestes communications station. Lieutenant Winston Chang had been killed during the infiltration of that station, but the data had proven to be of tremendous value for the Border Worlds’ case. Vagabond hadn’t died for nothing.
Thinking about Vagabond made Eisen worry about the Intrepid. Colonel Blair was a skilled pilot, Eisen had seen that during the war, but was he a fitting captain? Well, Blair had Garibaldi to fall back on, but no doubt he would have trouble convincing the crew that aiding the Kilrathi Shintahr Melek, now calling himself a chancellor, and his endangered convoy was the right thing to do. After all, more than a few pilots lost friends and relatives to the Empire during the war... not the least of which was Christopher Blair himself. And the Marines Vice Admiral Wilford had promised would be coming in from Lennox soon. What if they hadn’t arrived yet?
Eisen shook his head. He was worrying to much. He had to remember his own task: finding the right people to show his findings to. People with influence in the Great Assembly, people who could stop an all-out war, but first and foremost, people he could trust.
People like that were rare these days. The data Eisen carried in his briefcase—mission data, coded transmissions, fleet movements—was admittedly thin, despite what he’d once told Blair... not nearly enough to convince just anyone. It had to be shown to someone who knew Eisen wouldn’t make this up, someone that, even now, could truly be trusted. Eisen knew only one man that would: Commodore Charles Dannalas.
Eisen and he had fought together some three decades ago during the Venice Offensive. He hadn’t seen him for many years, but that didn’t worry Eisen. He and Charles had a history together, a bond that had to be stronger than the blind loyalty demanded by Confed.
And Charles had contacts in the Assembly and Admiralty Court—colleagues, senators, men and women that had influence... the kind of contacts Eisen and the Border Worlds needed so badly.
When last Eisen had heard from Charles, he was second-in-command on Proxima Superbase. Eisen had heard this years ago, so it was possible the commodore had moved somewhere else. But it was pretty much his only lead... and his only hope.
Eisen decided he needed some distraction, and turned on the laptop TV on the small desk next to his bunk. The face of Fleet Admiral Geoffrey Tolwyn appeared on the screen.
Eisen sighed. This wasn’t going to get his mind off the situation, but he had to watch it.
Tolwyn was walking down a hallway of some sort, with cameras flashing in his face and microphones being shoved under his chin. A small army of news-reporters was apparently following him. This seemed to irritate Tolwyn, who avoided most of the questions that the group literally fired at him and kept walking, almost marching, down the hallway.
The reporters asked questions like "Did they harm you?" "How did you escape?" indicating that Tolwyn had just returned from a precarious situation. A faction of troops—Border Worlds troops, Eisen heard a reporter say—had taken him prisoner, but he had apparently escaped unscathed.
Eisen sighed. This is just the kind of news the men behind this conflict need, he thought. False news that proves the Border Worlds to be on the warpath.
"What were you doing in Border Worlds territory?" a young, cocky reporter dared ask.
Tolwyn apparently felt he had to answer that question, and spoke with a sharp voice as he slowed his pace but nevertheless kept walking, "It is my duty to find out as much as I can about the acts of terrorism taking place in the frontier. I wanted to go personally rather than having to rely on reports from my subordinate SRA agents."
Tolwyn raised his voice slightly, adding dramatically, "Yes, I took a risk, but no risk is too great for our Terran Confederation, and for the future of humanity. The price of our freedom is eternal vigilance. It’s something we all know."
Tolwyn marched on as the reporters continued their questioning, "Is it true they simply released you, let you go?" "Will you be promoted to space marshal for your tremendous efforts to stop this conflict?" "What about the Border Worlds assault on the Kilrathi at Pasqual X?" "Any comment on the defection of Christopher Blair?" The questions kept on coming.
Tolwyn stopped, and raised his hand. The questions stopped almost on cue.
"My dear ladies and gentleman," the admiral spoke with an almost uncharacteristically gentle voice, "I understand you have a lot of questions, but I simply cannot say anything until I’ve completed my report to the Great Assembly.
"Today, I will be taking the bridge of our new flagship, the Vesuvius supercarrier, and head out to the frontier yet again. The Vesuvius is, in every aspect, a reaffirmation of the strong position Confed has, and will always have, in this galaxy," Tolwyn continued, doing little to hide his pride of the new carrier. Not that Eisen blamed him, understanding that the famed admiral had spent the three years between the conclusion of the Kilrathi War and the present doing a whole lot of nothing in the Landreich after the failure of his Behemoth project.
Tolwyn clenched a fist for effect, shaking it in the air. "With such a magnificent ship, we will send a clear and potent message to the Border Worlds that we want... that we demand answers. Answers to the questions you ask about what’s really going on on the frontiers of our galaxy. Answers that all loyal citizens of our great Confederation seek and deserve. That is all. Thank you."
The image faded into TNC anchor Barbara Miles. Behind her in the background, a computer image of the TCS Vesuvius was displayed. "The carrier the admiral spoke of," Barbara started explaining. But Eisen had seen enough.
While turning of the screen, he thought of the power of the Vesuvius. He had seen the enormous ship undergoing the final stages of construction at Orion Station. Should Eisen fail in preventing a war, then, with ships like that, Confed would waltz over the Border Worlds in little over a minute.
Suddenly, a red emergency light lit up in the cabin. "Captain, two fighters approaching, dead ahead!" the voice of the ensign piloting the shuttle boomed trough the small speaker in the ceiling.
Startled, Eisen jumped up and hit his head again. Acting as if he hadn’t even felt the bump, he headed for the door to the cockpit.
SHUTTLE GILAD; COCKPIT
1945 HOURS (CST)
The young pilot was pushing all kinds of buttons and lights on her console as Captain Eisen entered the cockpit. She was Ensign Lauren McKnight, a young woman who had defected to the Border Worlds Union not long before Eisen, coming in off the TCS Abdicator. Eisen had got to know her as a "nice young girl with a lot of spunk," as the commanding officer of her last assignment, Admiral Weyland, once wrote in her file, in the few days he had spent on the Intrepid. Eisen quickly took the seat next to her.
"They decloaked right in front of us, sir," she said, doing her best to sound calm while she so obviously wasn’t, "and they don’t look friendly."
Eisen looked up through the glass at the fighters, which were hovering dangerously close to the shuttle. There were two of them, both Excalibur-class.
The face of one of the fighter pilots appeared on the VDU. He was wearing a jet-black helmet that totally obscured his face. Eisen turned to the small screen immediately at the sound of the fighter pilot’s voice.
"Unregistered shuttle... you are in violation." Eisen noticed the cold, emotionless voice of the fighter pilot hadn’t mentioned just which laws it was he had violated. "Engage autopilot linkup and prepare to be escorted to Sol System."
Captain Eisen sighed. "Kill the comm, Ensign. Full throttle forward," he ordered, calm but firm.
Ensign McKnight turned her head and looked quizzically at Eisen. "Sir," she said, "They’ll easily destroy us! Maybe if we allow to be taken to Sol, they’ll..."
"They won’t," Eisen interrupted. "Excaliburs are hardly standard patrol ships, Ensign. They had to have been sent by someone.. Someone behind this escalating conflict who knows just how dangerous we are to their efforts. Someone who won’t let us live. Full throttle!"
Lauren nodded. "Understood, sir." With that, she toggled the shuttle’s scoops up to their limit, squeezing maximum acceleration out of the small shuttlecraft. Eisen could only assume that Farao Station had reported them. They got clearance there, but could tell by the tone of the comm officer’s voice that the Farao officials hadn’t trusted the unregistered shuttle.
"Sir!"
A barrage of tachyon fire rocked the shuttle. Eisen was nearly shaken out of his seat.
"A warning shot, obviously," he spoke, more to himself than to Ensign McKnight, "considering the fact that we’re still alive."
"Sir," Lauren said, no longer hiding her panic, "one more shot like that and we’re space dust!"
Eisen nodded. "All right, Pliers," he said softly, "We need you now..."
He turned to Ensign McKnight. "Engage cloak. Full 180 as soon as we’re fully cloaked."
"Aye, aye, sir!" the ensign acknowledged, almost relieved. Eisen guessed she probably realized what his plan was. "Engaging cloak!"
The ship rumbled as the cloak engaged. Some of the light in the cockpit dimmed, making it clear that Pliers’ device was taking a lot of juice.
"There, fully cloaked," McKnight announced. Janking the control stick, both she and Eisen fell to the left as the shuttle made a sharp turn.
Eisen looked through the viewport. As he predicted, the Excaliburs were firing at the position the shuttle would’ve been at... had it continued its course dead ahead. The maneuver had paid off.
"Nice one, sir!" the ensign commented, smiling warmly. Eisen smiled back, a look of modesty on his face. "You had no small part in it, Ensign McKnight!" Then his voice turned serious, "But we’re not there just yet. Plot a roundabout course to Proxima Superbase, and head there maximum speed."
"Yes, sir!" Ensign McKnight cheered.
Captain Eisen made his way to the door to return to his cabin. Just before reaching it, Lauren sharply turned her head toward him.
"Sir! The Excaliburs have left the system... took a jump point to... Axius, if I’m not mistaken..."
"Axius? Well, good riddance!" Eisen said, making an almost disgusted face as he entered his cabin. He wanted to get some rest before arriving at the superbase. He knew he was well past due for a good night’s sleep.
SHUTTLE GILAD; COCKPIT
2673.072; 0642 HOURS (CST)
"Sir! Coming up on Proxima Superbase!" the intercom boomed. Eisen hadn’t even fallen asleep yet. He arose from his bunk and made his way to the cockpit, finding it flooded with the rays of the system’s twin suns.
"Very good, Ensign! Disengage cloak and request clearance," he told the young pilot as he took the co-pilot’s seat again.
"Sir, the crystal in the cloaking device burned out half an hour ago," Ensign McKnight replied with an almost patronizing ring to her voice. Rightly so, of course.
Yep, I should have known, Eisen thought, but he was far from ungrateful for Pliers’ work. The cloak had saved his life.
Before McKnight could raise the base on the comm, Proxima’s comm officer already appeared on the shuttle’s communication VDU.
The man had a tight, stone-cold face, and in a voice that matched his appearance. "State your business, unidentified shuttle," he immediately demanded.
Eisen leaned over the screen, and pressing the appropriate comm button, answered, "Proxima Station, this is Captain William Eisen, requesting clearance to land and speak with Commodore Dannalas."
"There is no ‘Commodore Dannalas’ aboard this station, Captain," the comm officer replied. There was something of a cynical ring to his voice. "But you have clearance."
The comm officer appeared to press some buttons and the green autopilot light lit up in the shuttle cockpit. Then the comm screen went blank.
Eisen sighed. In these times, times of dawning war, he thought, transfers are, of course, very common. Eisen would have to try and convince the commander of this station instead. This wasn’t going to be easy.
Then he noticed Ensign McKnight looking at him quizzically. Of course, she didn’t know if Eisen wanted to land the shuttle now that they had heard Dannalas wasn’t aboard. Facts be damned—as far as the Confederation was concerned, Eisen was a full-blooded traitor.
"Engage ALS autopilot landing, Ensign," Eisen said, "We’ll take our chances."
McKnight nodded and pressed the autopilot engage, starting the shuttle’s slow drift into the landing bay.
PROXIMA STATION; LANDING BAY ALPHA
THE PROXIMA SYSTEM, DOUGLAS QUADRANT, VEGA SECTOR
2673.072; 0642 HOURS (CST)
As the shuttle door opened, Eisen saw two men standing in the landing bay. When the door was fully down, he could see they were armed. Guards of the station.
Hesitantly, he picked up his briefcase and walked down the ramp. "I wish to speak to whoever commands this station," Eisen demanded.
The guards remained silent. Lauren emerged from the ramp and the two guards gestured them both to follow. Eisen and the young Ensign looked at each other for a moment, then descended the ramp and followed the pair of guards to a turbolift.
The turbolift seemed to go on forever, but then, finally, the doors opened. They were led down a narrow hallway and through a large, black door into an enormous office.
A man was looking out of the large viewport in the back to the dark vacuum of space outside. He was wearing a dark blue uniform and was bathed in darkness, as there were only a few dim lights on near the huge viewport.
Eisen had to swallow. It’s now or never, he thought.
One of the guards spoke, "Admiral, a Captain William Eisen requesting to see you."
"Leave us," the admiral said calmly. His voice seemed to echo through the office a million times.
Eisen looked at Lauren, then at the guards. "Please be so kind as to escort miss McKnight to some comfortable quarters."
The guards didn’t answer him, but both led the young ensign out of the office. Eisen watched them leave. Then, when the doors were fully closed, turned to the man at the window. Eisen swallowed again.
The man started to laugh as he turned from the window and moved toward Eisen. At first the laugh seemed to be diabolically sinister, but then Eisen recognized it as the friendly, hearty chuckle it was.
Eisen recognized the voice at the same time he recognized the face, as the man stepped into the light shining from the ceiling straight above Eisen’s head.
It was Charles Dannalas. Eisen laughed out loud. God, what an incredible relief! he thought.
Charles looked good—he had to be in his 60’s, same as Eisen, but he looked much younger. He had gained some weight, but his thin black hair hadn’t lost its color. What a relief it was him!
"Billy Eisen, you old scoundrel!" Charles said, still laughing.
"Charlie!" Eisen exclaimed, laughing heartily as well now. "How long has it been? So you’re in charge of this crate now, huh?"
Charles smiled, "Since two months ago, Bill. I got promoted to admiral after fending of a gang of Mancusian pirates. They were trying to swamp this station in the period of confusion just after the war ended. My superior made room for me to take over here. He left to take command of the Third Fleet at the frontier. The... violence there was just starting back then."
So he’s Admiral Dannalas now, Eisen thought to himself. That’s what the comm officer meant when he said there was no Commodore Dannalas here. That little sadist...
"So, how have you been, Bill?" Charles interrupted his thoughts. "And how’s that old rascal Dominguez?"
Eisen’s face turned serious. "Raul is gone, Charlie." Eisen saw the smile vanish from Charles’ face as snow might on a hot summer day. "Died on the bridge, in the line of duty."
Charles face revealed how shocked he was to hear this news. He hung his head, and turned around, facing the window again. "The Kilrathi took down some damn fine men..." he solemnly spoke.
Eisen raised his chin and an eyebrow, very serious now. "Very true," he said, sounding so calm it surprised even himself. "But Captain Dominguez wasn’t one of them. He was killed by an attack on his Border Worlds carrier less than two weeks ago. An attack by the TCS Achilles and her escorts."
"Confed..." Eisen saw Charles Dannalas freeze for a few moments, then slowly turn around. Now it was despair that was written all over his face.
"The conflict on the frontier is a terrible thing. Man fighting against man, for the first time in centuries." Since the Galactic Civil War; since the founding of the Confederation, Eisen knew.
Charles turned a cold glance. Emotionless, he said, "But the Border Worlds Militia have brought this on themselves."
Eisen’s eyes opened wide. He made a step toward Charles, and he slightly raised his voice, "That’s what Confed wants you to believe, Charlie!"
He walked toward the desk in another corner of the large office, slammed his briefcase on it, and turned his head to a still frozen Admiral Dannalas, "But I’ve gathered information, a lot of it..."
"So it’s true," Charles interupted his old friend. He walked toward the desk, slowly nodding his head. "Confed said you were a Border Worlds spy... I didn’t believe it, but..."
Eisen shook his head resolutely. "No spy, Charlie," he replied, "A detective maybe. And I found out they were feeding me, as a captain, a lot of biased information. In this briefcase is most of the data." He indicated the briefcase he now laid on the desk. "I haven’t decoded a lot of it yet, but what I do know is this... this... clash between Confed and the Border Worlds... it’s being provoked by certain elements. Elements within Confed."
Charles eyes grew wider. Eisen could see Charlie believed what he was telling him. Thank god he had found Charlie. Another man, someone he didn’t share the history with that he shared with Charles Dannalas, might not have even given him the time of day.
"You know I would never betray the Confederation, Charlie," Eisen continued. "Not our Confederation. But Confed’s changed—that’s for damned sure. It’s a different place."
Charles stepped forward. "But who? And why?" he asked, obviously more than a bit shaken by the news. He acted like he just couldn’t believe it.
"I don’t know... Yet." Eisen hung his head, then slowly raised it to look Charles firmly in the eye. "But I do know that if they aren’t stopped, the Assembly will vote for war. And that means there will be a terrible, bloody civil war, with the Border Worlders being massacred. Needlessly."
Charles moved to the chair behind his desk and sat down, shock still written across his face. Then his face turned a little cold again, and he began to move fast.
He opened the briefcase and took out one of the data-chips. He promptly stuck it in his desktop computer and booted it.
"Let me see this..." he whispered nervously. Eisen watched quietly as Charles restlessly dabbed away at the keyboard, the horror in his face growing.
"According to this mission data," he muttered as if he couldn’t believe it, but had to. "The Masa spacelab, ‘re-captured’ by Confed from the Border Worlds little over a week ago, was Border Worlds property in the first place. Confed’s using it to develop some new weapon. Yet they told us..."
Charles stopped in the middle of his sentence. Now he fully realized Eisen was right. Confed had changed. And it sure as hell hadn’t changed for the better.
Of course, Eisen wasn’t the least bit surprised. "Just one of many examples, Charles. My friends... our fellow humans in the Border Worlds... are in serious trouble. We must do something. Now."
Charles nodded hastily, and turned of the desktop as he raised from his chair.
"But what can we do at this stage?" he asked, as if Eisen were his superior officer.
Then his face cleared up, and almost smiling, Charles answered, "I think it’s time we went for a little trip."
THE SIRIUS SYSTEM, TERRA QUADRANT,
SOL SECTOR
ON LANDING APPROACH TO SIRIUS STATION
0959 HOURS (CST)
Charles got out of his seat and walked toward the viewport of the shuttle again, gesturing Eisen to follow. "Look," he said, pointing to the outside space, and at what was getting nearer.
Eisen followed curiously, looked out the huge viewport and...
Eisen could hardly believe it. There it was—the Vesuvius supercarrier, just like he’d seen back at Sol. Surrounded by a beehive of activity—gigantic worker drones, small shuttles flying back and forth like butterflies from flower to flower—all within the confines of a huge steel drydock shipyard rigged into the station.
But something was wrong in this picture. The work-in-progress seemed less finished than when Eisen was back at Sol. More to the point, how could the ship be here in Sirius?
"How can this be? Didn’t the Vesuvius head for the frontier about a day ago?"
Charles smiled and gently shook his head, still facing the viewport. "This is the St. Helens, Bill."
Eisen creased his brow, mentally running over the fleet reports he’d looked over while still on the Lexington. Nearly two kilometers long, it was a Vesuvius-class supercarrier designed by the Armed Forces Committee supposedly off of the schematics of the 1,580 meter-long Kilrathi Hakaga dreadnoughts that attacked Earth five years ago. A single Vesuvius would have a crew of over seventy-eight hundred and a fighter complement of over four hundred fighters and utility craft split into four flight wings. "The St. Helens...?"
"Named after Mount Saint Helens of the Earth state of Washington," Charles explained. "Kind of makes sense, since the Vesuvius was named after Italy’s Mount Vesuvius. Both active volcanoes at some point or another, so I’ve read."
Eisen’s glance trailed away to the viewports at Charles’ side. He remembered good times long gone, fond memories buried deep down that even the passing decades had not managed to take away. "Used to be something of a mountain climber in my youth."
"Let me guess, the McAuliffe Alps? That’s where all the serious climbers go, I’ve heard." Eisen nodded, and Charles laughed. "The St. Helens is a ‘twin,’ a ‘sister ship’ to the essentially completed Vesuvius, if you will. It was pulled from Orion Station and sent here in Sirius for some finishing touches: fueling, weapon fine-tuning, jump field calibration, engine upgrades. The works. Arrived just yesterday, in fact."
Charles turned to Eisen, smiling broadly now, "How about this: I’ll assign a hand-picked crew to it—some of my best men are already running some test runs with its equipment as we speak—and you will be appointed the commanding officer. You head towards the Border Worlds and protect your fr... our fellow humans. Meanwhile, I’ll contact my friends in the Assembly and tell them what’s going on. Try to, at least."
Eisen smiled back, awkwardly. He liked the idea, but something about it didn’t seem quite right. "Confed is just going to let a documented traitor fly off with a supercarrier? Charles..."
"I’ve got it covered, Bill. But let’s worry about that later, shall we?" Charles turned back to the viewport. "I’ll have this ship ready in two weeks."
Eisen’s smile faded. "Two weeks? The Great Assembly votes in less than four days, Charlie! All hell is about to break loose in the frontiers!"
Eisen grabbed Charles’ shoulder, almost in panic. "Isn’t there some way we can get this thing on-line faster?"
Charles nodded thoughtfully. His smile had also faded, but his determination hadn’t. He walked towards a console on the shuttle’s port and pressed a few buttons that were positioned on the side.
The voice of the cynical comm officer boomed through the office, "Yes, Admiral?"
"Get me the comm of the St. Helens, Ensign," Charles said, the determination clearly present in his voice.
"One moment," the superbase comm officer replied coolly.
There were a few moments of pause, then suddenly, a hologram began to materialize in front of Charles. Eisen was startled as he saw the back of the life-size figure emerge before his eyes. Apart from a few flickers, and a slightly monochrome look to him, the St. Helens comm officer could have just as well been standing in the room with them.
Charles was smirking, proud of this magnificent ship docked at his superbase. That’s some communications rig, Eisen thought.
Charles face turned more serious again as he turned to the hologram. "Commander," he said, "how is the work on the supercarrier proceeding?"
"Fine, Admiral," the holographic comm officer replied. "Hey, we can have this baby fully operational in ’bout twelve days."
Wait a minute, he recognized that voice. Eisen walked around the hologram until he was standing shoulder to shoulder with Charles, to look the St. Helens comm officer in the face.
He was right. It was none other than Ted "Radio" Rollins, Eisen’s comm officer on the TCS Victory during the war. Eisen smiled, but Rollins apparently could not see him, as he continued to look tightly at Admiral Dannalas.
"I want that carrier on-line in three days max, Commander," Charles spoke to Rollins.
Rollins opened his mouth to react to this bold request, but Charles raised his hand to silence him and continued, "Work around the clock, cut whatever corners necessary, but do it." He added dramatically, "The fate of mankind depends on it!"
Rollins smiled. It seemed Admiral Dannalas’ enthusiasm was contagious. "Yes sir!" he answered. While saluting, the hologram faded and disappeared.
"Well, what can I say?" Charles turned to Eisen and grinned broadly. "Looks like you got yourself a new ship, Captain!"
Eisen could do nothing but smile sheepishly.