"I assure you, neither dilly nor daddle are my middle names. I've set course for a leisurely stroll for the Orlando out near the pristine ice fields. If you've never had a glass of something with pristine ice cubes, I highly recommend it. It's like licking the cosmos itself, if said cosmos was in cube form and slowly melting in a mug of root beer. The ice particles works a number on scanners, but being on the Bretonia side of the Treaty of Curacao line means a few more legal loopholes the Navy needs to jump through to deploy someone to find us. Also, the views outside are super sparkly, which is an adverb I don't get to use often enough."
Several beeps, a few whistles, and at least one curse word followed by a solid thud came over the speakers.
"That should do it. Hopefully the autopilot can dodge anything that risks damaging the ship. Well, damaging it further I should say. I'm heading to you, I'll give you a VIP tour before the ship is counter-commandeered. I should warn you, I'm not nearly as informative, or attractive, as the young lady we have on the holovid for this sort of thing. But if you give me a few minutes I can probably find a female uniform around here somewhere and give a reasonable impression."
Seabourne got up from his chair and walked out the bridge. He paused and stepped back inside.
"Whoops! Almost forgot."
With a swipe, Seabourne turned out the lights, leaving the bridge in the glow of its display panels.
