Day 364,
Less than two hours remain in Gypsy Moth's maiden jump.  Of course, exact timing to jump exit is almost impossible to predict, explaining the long-standing tradition of some crews to have betting pools on jump precipitation time.

A ship's exact arrival location is also impossible to predict for anyone not intimately involved in plotting the jump. Also, space is incredibly vast compared to the range of weapons and sensors, making the likliehood of ambush on exit more the stuff of action holovids than actual naval tactics.  Nevertheless, Lafleur has the entire security detail awake and on station (four in the hold, four in the lounge, Lafleur on the bridge).

Stern reports from engineering, "Jump field still nominal, powerplant and M-drive ready for normal space operations."

Jack smiles as the astrogation computer displays its ever-dwindling numbers, counting down to its estimation of when the ship would drop back into normal space.

"Thank you, Mr. Stern. Astrogation shows one hour, forty six minutes, thirty seconds until precipitation, on my mark." Jack pauses, watching the read-outs. "Mark," he finishes, and then kicks the info over to Danica.

He runs a few readiness routines on the sensor arrays but it's just busy work. The ship has been performing flawlessly. With Express hopefully dropping out of jump nearby, he'd have time to run good scans of the area and they'd have a friendlie nearby just in case. Hopefully nothing would show up and Danica would have a chance to open up the ship's engines and see how Gypsy Moth really handled.

"Mr. Lafleur, now is a good time to weigh in on our n-space flight protocol here in this system. Once we've contacted Express and if sensor readings are clear I think we'd prefer to fly maximum G to our destination. We would outpace Express if we did so but on the other hand we'd arrive sooner."

Jack glances at Danica, studiously engaged in her pilot's display but knowing full well she was listening with every fiber in her.

"Ha! I was right," comes Jim's smug exclamation.

"Mr. Jinx and I thank all you suckers," he continues, while monitoring the power boards with the black feline and anticipating his winnings from the precip pool.

An annoyed "Meow!" can be heard in the background (as Mr. Jinx vaults from Doc's lap, uninterested in the transpiring human affairs...)

OOC: Assuming for transition events that everyone is awake and on-station even if it is not their normal watch.

The general countdown timer has been in one corner of the main tactical display for the entire time in J-space.  Danica knows her bridge crew and has nothing to hide, it's been part of her standard operating procedures as long as any aboard has known her.  She has been doing her flight checks for a short while now, only so much physical prep work can be done beforehand.  Mentally, it's another story.  Preparation is everything.

Danica nods slightly to Jack as the detailed astrogation flows to her console.  Other than that, she doesn't really seem to acknowledge the new data stream.  And with her mirrorshades on, it is tough to tell what Dani is really paying attention to.  Though she moves every couple of seconds in a very deliberate and controlled way as the many status and diagnostic displays cycle before her.  Danica definitely has her 'game' face on.  Her neck, face and expression are impassive and eerily unmoving.  The display's illumination flickers across her face, producing various colors and shadows that soften the fact that she moves very little.  Her posture is erect and Dani has secured herself in the pilot's seat with her five-point harness cinched tight, but her movements are fluid and not mechanical; a strange juxtaposition of relaxation and tension exists within her.

In preparation for precipitation back into N-space, Dani has her vacc suit on.  Since precipitation is both indeterministic in timing and yet imminent in occurance - there is not time to second guess and be caught out in N-space in an emergency without protection.  Just a precaution.

Dani remains quiet and her gaze does not shift, as Jack solicits input from Lafleur.  Jack knows her all too well.  Of course, she is listening - the answer does matter.  But, Jack has the situation well in control; so, Dani feels absolutely no compulsion to vary from her current routine and devote more time or effort into that current conversation.

Hayden performed a final check on the speculative trade cargo they carried.  Satisfied that everything was in order, he returned to his station in lower engineering.  With a few quick strokes, he brought up the Sensor Operator sub-routine, eager to get an idea of N-space traffic and conditions, once they emerged from jump.
This message was last edited by the player at 15:44, Tue 17 May 2011.

In reply to Jacques Keveloh (msg #2):

In response to Jack's suggestion, Lafleur nods sagely.  There is a pregnant pause before he responds, but he eventually opines, "If anyone is hoping to intercept us on the way, hopefully this ship's higher thrust rating will throw their vectors off and put them in a tail chase.  It's probably worth risking being further away from the Pathfinder ship to do that."

After a second he adds, "I'd feel better getting in range of the Navy ships at the Boxes as quickly as possible.  A cruiser or a big SDB would be a lot more help if we need it than a little Pathfinder courier."

One hour, forty three minutes, and fifty odd seconds later, Gypsy Moth melts out of jumpspace like water vapour sublimating in a vacuum.  The transition is so smooth Jack and Danica have to double-check their instruments before they believe the ship has actually precipitated.  There was virtually none of the jolt or momentary nausea so common to jumpspace exits, especially for multi-parsec jumps.  Jack is momentarily flush as he realizes he was responsible for a large part of this achievement, though Prisa and the craftsmen who designed and built the Moth also deserve no small measure of praise.

There is a short delay as the ship's navigation and sensor systems come online and orient themselves.  The computer confirms that although, several hundred light hours away, the relatively dim visible light from Espiaux's primary is undetectable, it's strong infrared emissions* are exactly where they should be.

*OOC: Thera, that's for you ;)

A little over nine hundred million kilometers away, a tiny speck called Largen System Orbital Station Two should be proceeding inoxerably along its nine thousand year orbital path.

Gypsy Moth has not begun transmitting any active sensor, transponder, or communications signals.  Given the distance and smoothness of jump exit, it is questionable whether her arrival in system will be noticed until she announces her presence or comes significantly closer to the Boxes.

One-way comms delay to the Boxes is roughly fifty minutes.  Transit time at 3G is slightly under 98 hours.

There is no sign of Express yet, but she may have not precipitated yet, or may simply be beyond Gypsy Moth's sensor range.

At present the Moth hangs, an object in space.**

** OOC: Gratuitous Firefly reference.

OOC: PS, It's good to be back. :)

Thera sits comfortable but alert in her turret, searching the skies with her targeting sensors, watching for the slightest sign of a bogey and paying particular attention to anything coming 'out of the sun'. Not that that would be likely - with the immense distance and the uncertainty of Jump precipitation, the chances of anything happening to be on a needle-thin line of sight with Espiaux were vanishingly small.

In reply to Thera Santorini (msg #7):

OOC: Actually I was referring to earlier comments about the luminosity of a red giant in general. If I recall correctly, which is certainly not guranteed, you pointed out that Espiaux's star should be throwing off a fair amount of light, more than the "dimly lit" I put in the world description.  I thought, what if it is generating a large amount of light, but at slightly longer than visible wavelengths?