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~ The bridge was a soft chatter of communications traffic amongst the fleet and a wild symphony of grumble out of the frame of the well worn ship. Admiral Sligh leaned back into his seat with a depressed sigh, preparing to hold his composure as he saw the long range comms station perk up with anxiety. His hand was already held out invitingly by the time they began to report.

~ "Sir, it's the Daniels. She's reporting repeated grav-net intrusions in the orbit over Higg; it appears to be an opening barrage.", the Sergeant reported with a tone of concern. It was clear that the badger knew the implications of their current destination already falling under siege, commenting quietly to herself, "...won't be there by the time we arrive."

~ Josiah Sligh steeled his expression, rising to stand. Declarations were best made on one's feet, he'd often reminded the pug he'd appointed his first mate. She never really forgot the advice, but he still enjoyed the occasional feeling of being a mentor. "Have all ships tie their navigations to the Black Knight's computer; we're changing course.", the beagle looked to the pilot, "Thirty minutes per second, towards the dorsal." The macaw at the ship's controls nodded slowly, in a bit of stunned confusion, but carefully plotted in the course. He hesitated, "That will exceed the acceptable band of course corrections at FTL, Sir. Confirm order, of thirty minutes per second?", a finger hanging over the 'Commit to Navigation' button on his console.

~ Admiral Sligh reconsidered for a moment; even a ship as tough as the Black Knight wouldn't handle more than several minutes of deforming the warp field to that angle. He inquired of the fleet communications station, "The rest of the ships are safely in our wake?" After a moment's careful reading of the table enumerating fleet status and ship readinesses the operator confirmed, "Yes, Sir. Right on our coat-tails." Josiah nodded to the appropriately cautious macaaw, "Aye. Take us perpendicular to the galactic plane."

~ The ship shuddered, as portions of hull and armor shifted posture under the novel strains of grinding against a warp field. In the depths below the bridge, corridors echoed with the sounds of sand being shattered. The first mate stared intently at a spread of indications and alerts, after a gravid moment reporting, "Everything's holding up, Sir. The Chief Engineer reports...", she paused to get the numbers right, "...that we can probably maintain this for about seven minutes. Also, that they've begun to prepare for the big jump." She looked up to Josiah with one of confusion, "And.. they'll need several minutes to load the fuel for it?"

~ Sligh nodded, taking in the report. Below his composure, he was calmed by the assurances that the old warship was holding. An ear perked slightly at the pug's confusion, mulling the implied question for a moment. "That big jump won't be just with our FTL; it'll be with some once-off booster thing with special fuel built by that raccoon who keeps flirting with your daughter." He grinned, hoping to distract his first mate from inquiring for particulars about the fuel and its loading.

~ The first mate let out a belted laugh, taking the bait. "You know, if she can get the fleet to the other side of this jump, I'll stop accusing you of nepotism for appointing your own grandmother to be Chief Engineer."