Ayla scratched her ears, her headset was bothering her. Hours of wearing it made it very discomfortable, she never was able to get used to it. Her focus returned to the panels and dials in front of her, detailing everything about the current course of the troop carrier. She briefly glanced around to look at the others present on the ship's bridge. Each was watching their own panels and duties, while the captain of the ship oversaw them all from inside the captain's chair atop a small rise. Turning her attention back to her panel, she cleared her throat, and spoke into her mouthpiece.<span style="color: green">"Adjusting course 17. 59. -85 to 17. 67. -73 to compensate gas giant gravity."</span>As she pinched the bridge of her nose, an "affirmative" came from her earphones. The panels in front of her adjusted themselves to fit the new course. She calmly watched the dials show more acceptable numbers, and felt herself drifting mentally again. She was at the end of a long, sleepless week, and quietly looked forward to collapsing in her cabin. Inspecting the dials again, she quietly wished she could take another stim shot to stay sharp. That would mean being unable to sleep for at least 10 hours again though, and by then her next shift would almost be starting.<br/><br/>Lost in her thoughts as she was, it took Ayla a moment to notice that the atmosphere had changed in the troop carrier's bridge. The air had suddenly become tenser and nervous with hushed whispers filling the air, causing Ayla to feel slightly sick in her stomach. A hurried cry confirmed her fear a moment later. "Captain! We have incoming greys from the nearest gas giant!" That single sentence was enough to cause a small burst of panic, but she suppressed it while the captain gave a quick succession of orders to piloting crew. "Engage defensive positions! Form a firing hedge with the rest of the fleet and charge up our weapons. Sound the alarms and get everyone ready for combat!" Ayla flipped off a whole set of safety switches, the panel in front of her spewing warnings at her as she adjusted the course of the cruiser closer to that of the other ships so they could concentrate fire. An voice over the radio repeated the earlier commands, but this time with the voice of the fleet's commander.<span style="color: green">"Firing line establishing, we're following point captain."</span>she said in her headset, carefully monitoring the course of their ship and that of the others to prevent a collision.<br/><br/>Ayla silently cursed to herself, it had only been an hour or so until her relief would've shown. She took use of a quick lull in the action to hit a stim, reasoning that she would need to stay awake and focused for this. She bit her lower lip as the report of attack craft came in, responding to orders again she quickly began plotting courses to evade incoming fire while bringing the mass driver to bear. She felt the familiar cocktail of adrenaline, stress and fear. The cruiser's diminishing chances of survival depended heavily on her ability to keep the ship at a safe trajectory while not denying the gunners any firing possibilities. She took a deep breath as she prepared for action, watching the starmap's red and blue dots on the panel in front of her.<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>