Nowhwere Bound

  Thrusters flared soft blue light as the ship undocked from the station.  The 'Nowhere Bound' slipped silently into space on yet another mission at the Captains behest.  Sphen Larson, CPT, had been commanding one ship or another for the past 20 years.  Medium height, blond hair turning gray, solid, and with a face that inspired confidence in all those around him.  The man was a natural born leader and his tenacity, foresight, and grounded values had saved his crew countless times.

  Next to him on the bridge was his First Officer.  Lt JG Alan Smith was tall and lean, some said he was built like a greyhound, with short brown hair and the faintest hint of a mustache. He conducted all of his duties with a seriousness that bordered on autism yet most people overlooked his eccentrics simply because he always got results.  Part of his demeanor stemmed from the fact he understood computers better than he did people.

  The cargo hold echoed to the sound of boots moving crisply through aisles of containers.  Warrant Officer Natasha "Ems" Stewart was ensuring the deck hands had secured all of the safety straps and cargo netting.  She was tall for woman, but moved with a feline grace she acquired from years of martial arts practice.  This week her hair was a vibrant purple, her coveralls displayed crisp pleats, and every male eye in the hold followed the sway of her hips when she glided past.  The rumor mill said she once was a model and everyone assumed she quit when she got the scar on the side of her face.  As acting quartermaster she was responsible for all cargo as well acquiring and selling any trade goods that might turn a profit.  In addition she had an engineering degree and assisted with keeping the ship fitted for whatever mission was required.

  Chief engineer Master Sergeant Harold "Fuzz" Peach was finishing his pre-warp checklist and trying to avoid stepping on the cat who insisted it was feeding time.  Cat was welcome company most of the time but right now the priority was ensuring the capacitors were working at optimum capacity.  Fuzz had two passions in life, searching for the universes perfect beer and finding a way to get just a little more performance out of every piece of equipment on his ship.  Average height and build would seem to indicate he'd live a lonely life, but somehow he managed to always have a woman on his arm a few hours after docking at a new station.  Chief couldn't wait to investigate the claims that  a retired Sergeant Major who helped train new recruits at the Federation School in orbit around Dodenvale VIII was making the beer that one last quarter's micro brewing contest for the Sinq Laison region..  The beer was rumored to be almost perfect, and Fuzz was determined to find out for himself.

  Ajax, the ships computer, notified the CPT all quartermaster and engineer checks were complete and the ship was ready for warp.  The CPT confirmed his ship readout was all green and told Lt Smith to engage the warp drive.  A tunnel of light surrounded the Ferox class battlecruiser as it's crew set forth on the first step of a journey that would last a thousand miles.