John Scalzi - The B-Team

Ambassador Sara Bair knew that when the captain of the Polk had invited her to the bridge to view the skip to the Danavar system, protocol strongly suggested that she turn down the invitation. The captain would be busy, she would be in the way and in any event there was not that much to see. When the Polk skipped dozens of light-years across the local arm of the galaxy, the only way a human would register the fact would be that their view of the stars would change slightly. On the bridge, that view would be through display screens, not windows. Captain Basta had offered the invitation merely as a formality and was sure enough of its rejection that she had already made arrangements for the ambassador and her staff to have a small reception marking the skip in the Polks tiny and normally unused observation desk, wedged above the cargo hold.

Ambassador Bair knew protocol suggested she turn down the invitation, but she didnt care. In her twenty-five years in the Colonial Union diplomatic corps shed never once been on a starship bridge, didnt know when shed be invited to one again, and regardless of protocol, she was of the opinion that if one was going to issue an invitation, one should be prepared to have it accepted. If her negotiations with the Utche went well, and at this point in the game there was no reason to suspect they would not, no one anywhere would care about this single breach of convention.

So screw it, she was going to the bridge.

If Captain Basta was annoyed by Bair accepting her invitation, she didnt show it. Lieutenant Evans produced the ambassador and her assistant Brad Roberts on the bridge, five minutes prior to skip; the captain disengaged from her duties and quickly but politely welcomed the pair to the bridge. Formalities fulfilled, she turned her attention back to her pre-skip duties. Lieutenant Evans, knowing his cue, nudged Bair and Roberts into a corner where they could observe without interfering.

Do you know how a skip works, Ambassador? Evans asked. For the duration of the mission, Lieutenant Evans was the Polks protocol officer, acting as a liaison between the diplomatic mission and the ships crew.

My understanding of it is that we are in one place in space, and then the skip drive turns on, and we are magically someplace else, Bair said.

Evans smiled. Its not magic, its physics, maam, he said. Although the high end sort of physics that looks like magic from the outside. Its to relativistic physics what relativistic physics is to Newtonian physics. So thats two steps beyond everyday human experience.

So were not really breaking the laws of physics here, Roberts said. Because every time I think of starships skipping across the galaxy, I imagine Albert Einstein in a policemans uniform, writing up a ticket.

Were not breaking any laws. What were doing is literally exploiting a loophole, Evans said, and then launched into a longer explanation of the physics behind skipping. Roberts nodded and never took his eyes off of Evans, but he had a small smile on his face that Bair knew was meant for her. It meant that Roberts was aware he was doing one of his primary tasks, which was to draw away from Bair people who wanted to make pointless small talk with her, so she could focus on what she was good at: paying attention to her surroundings.

Her surroundings were not in fact all that impressive. The Polk was a frigate-Bair was sure Evans would know what type specifically, but she didnt want to train his attention back on her at the moment-and its bridge was modest. Two rows of desks with monitors, with a slightly raised platform for the captain or officer of the watch to oversee operations, and two large monitors forward to display information and, when desired, an outside view. At the moment neither display was on; the bridge crew were instead focused on their individual monitors, with Captain Basta and her executive officer walking among them, murmuring.

It was about as exciting as watching paint dry. Or more accurately, as exciting as watching a crew of highly trained individuals do an action they have done hundreds of times before without drama or incident. Bair, who by dint of years in the diplomatic corps was aware that trained professionals doing their thing was not usually a gripping spectator sport, was nevertheless vaguely disappointed. Years of dramatic entertainments had prepared her for something more action oriented. She sighed without realizing it.

Not what you were expecting, maam? Evans asked, turning his attention back to the ambassador.

I didnt know what to expect, Bair said, annoyed with herself at having sighed loudly enough to be heard, but hiding it. The bridge is more quiet than I would have assumed.

The bridge crew has worked together for a long time, Evans said. And you have to remember that they pass a lot of information internally. Bair looked over to Evans with an arched eyebrow at this; Evans smiled and pointed a finger to his temple.

Oh, right, Bair thought. Captain Basta and the rest of the bridge crew were all members of the Colonial Defense Forces. This meant that aside from the obvious distinguishing genetically-engineered characteristics of green skin and a youthful appearance, each of them had a computer called a BrainPal nestled up inside their brains. CDF members could use their BrainPals to talk or share data with one another; they didnt have to use their mouths to do it. The murmuring indicated that they still did, however, at least part of the time. CDF members used to be normal people without green skin or computers in their heads. Old habits died hard.

Bair, who had been born on the planet Erie and had spent the last twenty years stationed out of the Colonial Union home planet of Phoenix, had neither green skin nor a computer in her head. But she had spent enough time around CDF members during her diplomatic travels that they no longer seemed particularly notable among the variety of humans she worked with. She sometimes forgot that they were, in fact, a genetically-engineered breed apart.

One minute to skip, said the Polks executive officer. Bairs brain popped up a name: Everett Roman. Aside from Commander Romans notation of the time, nothing else on the bridge had changed; Bair suspected the announcement was for her and Robertss benefit. Bairs eyes flicked over to the large monitors to the fore of the room. They were still dark.

Commander Roman, Evans said, and then motioned his head toward the monitors when he had gotten the executive officers attention. The XO nodded. The monitors sprang to life, one with an image of a star field, the other with a simple schematic of the Polk.

Thank you, Lieutenant Evans, Bair said, quietly. Evans smiled.

Commander Roman counted off the last ten seconds of the skip. Bair trained her eyes on the monitor showing the star field. When Roman counted zero, the stars in the field seemed to shift at random. Bair knew that the stars hadnt actually shifted. These were entirely new stars. The Polk had, without fuss or noise, instantly traveled light-years.

Bair blinked, unsatisfied. If you thought about what just happened in terms of what was physically accomplished, it was a staggering event. As a personal human experience, however

So thats it? Roberts asked, to no one in particular.

Thats it, Evans said.

Not very exciting, Roberts said.

Not exciting means we did it right, Evans said.

Well, wheres the fun in that? Roberts joked.

Other people can do fun, Evans said. We do precise. We get you where you need to go, on time. Or ahead of time, in this case. We were asked to get you here three days ahead of the Utche arrival. We delivered you three days, six hours early. Here you are, ahead of time twice.