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As he looks around at the handful of active stations on this bridge, he notes the size difference between the Rexion and the Enpassant. Five active stations keep the ship running, the fleet informed and the crews operational. All the crews report to this bridge in one manner or another. Tactical is busy coordinating a variety of advanced preparation positioning among the thirty vessel fleet. Bridge engineering is working with each ship to compile the repair needs. Communications is filtering through the chatter between ships and assisting with a coordinated encryption process that will allow all thirty vessels to communicate without risk of being understood by the outside. The general operations station is working to ascertain the supply haves and have nots among each vessel, while coordinating movement of what can be shared. The first officer and captain are making command level adjustments as needed. Everyone is working efficiently and effectively. Yatrell only has to oversee the balance already being brought into place by this bridge crew.

The vastness of the undertaking starts to sink in. Three species are meeting here, maybe four. Three will move on from this planetary debris field once all the required repairs can be made. When they do move on, there will be a new world for the Xentue clan to colonize. It will be a new home world for a people who were ripped from their own long ago by slavers. The Xentue will finally be free, and able to live uninhibited by the societies around them. He and hundreds of former Dentonian military men and women will be a part of the process.

The Dentonian and Xenonian vessels will remain in orbit while the Xentue become comfortable in their new home. There is no doubt in Yatrell’s mind that process will take quite a while. From what he can hear telepathically, there is no doubt in any member of the crew. No doubt about the length of time that will be invested in this process, no doubt about the consequences of their choices, and no doubt that regardless of those consequences their actions are just, given the circumstances.

None of this makes him comfortable sitting in Kala’s command chair.

“Fleet Commander we have an incoming communication for you specifically sir. It is from the Taxlor. We have an engineer preparing to relocate to the ship to address the shielding and cloaking options.” Zaren sits proudly next to the Dentonian. His deep voice carries comfort and encouragement with every word.

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