Now that he actually turned to the now repaired—and firmly secured to the deck and wall—navigation table and recovered maps and charts, and checked their course, he turned to the window again. The heartbreakingly familiar sight below was an illusion, and he knew it, but he still committed both it and its relative location on the maps to memory. Just in case. He closed the cover of the navigation table once he put everything away. No sense letting everything fall out and spill to the windows below again as had done when they had suddenly been attacked. He pulled his cloak closer to himself to ward against the slight chill in the damp air and left the bridge, walking down the central corridor.