Underway
The good ship Redboutable heads underway.
The bridge, contrary to the depictions in many a science fiction, was neither situated at the fore end of the ship, nor was it particularly large. Indeed, the predictions of 'submarines in space' was surprisingly accurate.
It was not dark, indeed a well lit interior was conducive towards morale. And, there was accomodation to asthetics, with brass trim to give it a distinctivly naval vibe and take away from the fact that they were, on a vessel deep in the most hostile environment known to man or recom.
Each crewman in a tyrian purple jumpsuit, just the right degree of baggy to be comfortable, without looking slovenly; was strapped in as was everyone else aboard the ship.
The Commander remained quiet, watching over the young Midshipman, as he called out the orders to take the ship out of dock. This, would be an excellent test for him. And, he was keenly aware that any dings would carry a long-lasting shame.
"Re-" Tyler swallowed audibly, the purple roo forced down the stage fright, "retract lines two through eight. Quarter thrust for three seconds on port RCS."
The order was repeated by the crewmen, for the sake of clarity, and to ensure no mistakes and no mis-hearing an order.
This, was borne from centuries of experience and engrained into the culture. "Retract lines two through eight, Aye!"
"Three seconds quarter thrust on port RCS, aye!"
From the viewscreen dominating the bridge, the illusionary window allowed them the sense they were looking out into the stars, to watch the steady passage of drift away from the station.
As the three seconds ticked down, the thrust cut out, and Murphey's Law continued to take hold, drifting with a certain lazy, gargantuine meander. The secondary lines connecting it still to the station.
Midshipman Tyler didn't call off the retraction, not until the last second, it was a game of sorts that Spacemen would play.
"Disconnect lines One through seven."
"Disconnecting lines one through seven, aye!"
The puff of gasses and the lines disconnected, wheeling into the station and retracting into the niches in the hull, and the Redoubtable continued to meander under her own drift.
The Captain spoke up, "Forgetting something, Mister Tyler?"
His ears splayed, doing a little curious twitch and his brow furrowed, trying to remember. All eyes were focused on him. The helmsman started to open her mouth, but a piercing look from the Executive Officer forestalled it.
No, this was Tyler's test.
His face turned to one of realization and he quickly barked out, "Fly the colours!"
The ancient hue and cry had it's traditions, when flags were the means of naval communique over distance. To fly the colours in modern parlance, meant that the ship was now recognized as being under it's own power, as a free-floating object.
On tactical screens, the IFF switched over, from station-keeping to underway. Numerals flashing to indicate this change.
A cheer rose from the assembled bridge crew. At long last they would be doing what they'd signed up to do.
A cruise, the hardships. But they'd not put on the uniform to be idle.
The Captain nodded, satisfied. "I have the con," he spoke up. A sense of relief flowed through Tyler, his shoulders sagged just a little, letting go of the tension. "Aye Sai, you have the Con."
From outside, the midnight blue capsule's running lights flared and flashed, marking her as clear visually to the outside world. Puffs of manouvering thrusters and she manouvered into a clear position.
Checks and counter-checks to assure that she was clear of traffic before she unfurled her solar sails.
The archaic apperance was not without reason. Reaction mass being finite and heavy. The better to cruise in the deep, it was found (with current technology atleast) was the humble solar sail.
Thin, but strong fibres, carbon nanotube cables (much like those in use by many a space elevator) and thin conductive materials glittering across like irish lace curtains in the morning dew.
From the rear, a maser was extended, and pumping energy through the sail, providing 'wind'. The push allowed the vessel to travel. And the maser-pumped propulsion providing gravity which built up at a steady pace.
From deep in the center of the ship, to the bridge, which like much of the rest of the Redoubtable was oriented in a manner akin to a high-rise, the thrust provided gravity to all aboard.
"Exec, have the underway alarm sound. Remind everyone that we are under thrust."
The XO nodded, and activated his connection to the shipwide band after a sharp electronic cadence. "Exec to all personnel. We are underway. Gravity will be building up," then he gave an amused smile, "So that means no skylarking."