"Can they tell that we are about to jump?" I asked. Other than shooting at us I had no idea if they had a means to block us from exiting this system through the torn fabric of our universe.
"Our engine will begin creating the hole seven seconds before we enter it," Strawberry answered. "You need to switch to auto or we are all fucked!"
"Oh, my stars," Cinnamon muttered again. No mention of urine this time.
"I'm not close enough, yet."
"Kash!" Strawberry screamed in a panic that was far beyond what I previously thought she was capable. I ignored her and waited until the countdown reached ten seconds. Gently then, keeping my cool to the point that it made me look insane, I tapped the return to auto-pilot prompt.
"They are shooting!" Honey's scream tried to out-pitch Strawberry's.
The ship suddenly rumbled. Mildly in comparison to the jolt we felt when we got hit by the ship’s weapon. It continued for a few seconds. Then my screen went blank when it finally stopped.
What the hell happened?
CHAPTER TEN:
"We did it," Strawberry said in relief. She looked like she was about to collapse. Having never experienced rip-jumping before, I was more than a little confused. I tapped my screen until a large text message popped-up reading, Locked-Out.
"Don't touch anything, Kash," the berry flavored rookie navigator told me. "We ripped over to the jump-stream. You can't pilot here. Let the computer control us until we reach the nav-hole at Teegarden."
"How long until we get there?" I asked, acting like control had just been pried from my hands. I knew that I had succeeded in getting us free, but there was an uneasy feeling in my gut.
Strawberry pointed at the screen. "Our time, two hours and twenty-three minutes."
"Our time?"
"We're in another plane of existence," she explained, regaining some of her confidence. This was something that she knew, and I didn’t. "The computer estimates that nearly two days will have passed in galactic time while we're gone, but that is difficult to confirm. This is how interstellar travel works. Sometimes we return to a station just days after we left according to our clocks, but a week had passed since we left according to them."
"Were we followed?"
"No," Strawberry laughed. When I gave her a puzzled look, she explained. "They could try to follow us, but obviously they won't."
"Why not?"
"Because nobody is as crazy as you are!"
I took that as a compliment since she was smiling when she said it. She looked happy, not condescending.
"I'm sorry for doubting you, Kash," Cinnamon confessed timidly. It looked like she was expecting me to be angry.
"Me, too," Honey added. "I won't do it again."
"Don't worry about it," I told them. "But you might want to get used to some unexpected stuff happening. I might be pulling that shit often from here on when we run into trouble."
"How did you learn to pilot like that?" Strawberry asked me with an expression of awe. I had impressed her, and not just a little bit. The multiple facets of her personality just kept rolling out on display. It was enjoyable to see.
Watching television and playing video games, I thought to reply. But that didn't support the new hero status that I had suddenly achieved. "I guess it just comes natural," I told them. I almost regretted it as soon as the words left my mouth. Even I wasn't that much of braggart. I expected laughter, but I received only reverent gazes instead.
"Captain?" Vanilla's voice came through the speaker. "Is it safe to inspect the crew and passengers for injuries?"
I glanced at Strawberry first. When she nodded, I replied, "Yes. Did Teddy reach you?"
"Yes, a moment ago," Vanilla replied. "Only minor scrapes except for Sage in the cage. Pardon my rhyme. She sustained a head injury and has some bleeding. How do we feel about that?"
Did the doctor just ask me that?
"I'll send a guard with you," I answered. When both Honey and Cinny offered, I corrected myself. "Two guards, doctor. Don't take any chances."
I sat back down in my chair and finally realized how exhausted I was from the stress. I had a sudden desire to see outside. "Can we turn on outside cameras?" I asked.
"There is nothing to see," Strawberry told me with a grin. She was experienced at rip-jumping, even if she had never before been the navigator for the maneuver. "The cameras will either show nothing or bright light or a rapid stream of computer generated particles. Our eyes cannot interpret whatever is out there. But we can program the screens to show whatever makes us comfortable. What would you like to see?"
"Pole dancing," I replied. My mind went back to an old computer screensaver I had as a teenager. Pixelated strippers dancing on stage, whirling around their poles.
"I don't know what that is," Strawberry replied. "But I think we need to adjust our partnership."
"Oh really?"
"It is obvious that you have some skills and leadership qualities that I do not possess. At least not at your level. But I have done a lot to get us to this point. I hope that you can see that."
"Clearly," I answered.
"So, never ignore my input," she told me. "And ask for it often. There are a lot of things about life on the galactic scale and in our modern time that you will need to adjust to, so rely on me to help you with that."
"Okay," I said, dragging it out to let her know that I was waiting to hear what she was going to say next.
"Otherwise, I will follow your lead," she said. "Everyone is already calling you captain. That didn’t go without notice. Don't disrespect me and
