After just under eight hours, a confident yet cautious knock sounded at his cabin door. Beyond the door stood a crew member dressed like Fiorella in elegant dark clothing accented with gold jewelry. It wasn't easy to ascertain her age, but she likely was as old as Fiorella or slightly younger, with short black hair, brass skin and venomously green eyes adorned with soft green eyeshadows.
"[Good evening. Fiorella invites you to the bridge. She desires your presence as Amalfi makes its approach to land on planet Malta, claiming she owes you some suicidal maneuvers since your encounter on planet Houston.]"
Her smile was contagious, and her gaze could make lesser men sweat; she patiently waited to see if her invitation would be accepted and, if so, indicated for him to follow with a slight gesture. Their journey to the bridge was brief - passing a few cleverly disguised, yet still armored doors protecting the ship's most vital rooms. Experienced eyes might notice retractable panels in the floor and walls at strategic points, ready to serve as defense points for the crew at a moment's notice, offering cover for defenders and concealed remotely controlled heavy weapons.
The bridge, hidden at the ship's center and devoid of windows, felt surreal. More reminiscent of a luxury yacht's bridge than a warship - there were only six stations for officers, affording each a very comfortable and spacious working area. External sensors and cameras were relayed directly to holographic displays covering the front half of the bridge, including the ceiling and floor, creating the illusion of sitting in the vacuum of space. Another peculiarity was the absence of what one might call a captain's chair - Fiorella sat at the foremost position, practically in space, her only controls being a hand-sized flight stick with numerous buttons on her right hand and a panel with five throttle levers and other switches on her left. The holographic display around her showed only basic instrumentation related to system status and sensor data, not flight data for the ship. Damien could only guess what Amalfi's current speed and vector were.
Surrounding them was the emerald green of Omicron Alpha and their target - the solitary, almost golden-looking planet they were rapidly approaching. If someone had turned off the remaining instrumentation on the holographic displays and dimmed all the lights in the rear part of the bridge, it would have been like a dream. Apart from the hum of electronics and quiet conversations between officers, the vessel was utterly silent.
