She took another sip of the bourbon.
“Should you be drinking right now Meerah?” asked Quinton. He strapped himself in. Waist harness check. Shoulder harness check. Head strap check.
She looked at him and raised one eyebrow. She sipped again. She looked at the control board. She raised her hand up and slowly spiraled her index finger down toward the entry key.
Quinton squeezed his armrests, “Is it nearly time? How much longer until we go?”
She pressed the key down and sat down in her seat, throwing one leg over the armrest and raising her glass toward her companion.
“Right now,” she said.
Angstrom fold initiated. Eighteen thousand seconds remain.
“Shouldn’t you be strapped in?”
The view screen revealed little. Looking outward into the void. The stars were uncountable and numerous. Upon close inspection, Quinton observed the fuzz on the edge of the screens. Just a hint of Borealis-like color began crawling from the edges to the center.
“If you think I’m strapping in for five hours, you’re delusional.”
“But the standard operating procedure…”
“The procedure says to strap in. But there’s no reason to strap in,” she cut him off.
“But you can’t be serious. The craft. It’s…”
“Is this your first time in a fold? First time out-system?”
Quinton cleared his throat, “I’ve been in several interplanetary and belt running crafts. I also did several research papers on the Perieau system.”
Meerah smiled, “Oh. Fresh meat. I see.”
“I don’t see how you can treat this all so casually. If something goes wrong. Wouldn’t you want to take every precaution?”
“Look, Quinton. I appreciate your knowledge and the old procedures but they don’t account for several things. And since this is my ship, I do what I want.”
“What things aren’t accounted for?”
“The seat harnesses. The harnesses won’t do a thing in the fold. Technically we’re not moving anywhere. There’s no force being exerted. Look out, space is compressing in front of us and will expand behind us. We will appear where we need to be. If we’re not moving why are you strapped in?”
Quinton thought on it, “well if an object were to hit us or if the compression failed.”
“We would be instantly, utterly dead, if either of those things happened, why are you strapping in?”
“But statistically, there’s a better chance of safety.”
“Statistically, these trips with folks like you are easier to deal with when I drink.”
Quinton let out an exasperated breath, “I’m just nervous.”
“I know.”
“I don’t want to seem like an idiot.”
“I know. Then don’t seem like one.”
“Why would they tell us to then…”
She softened, “There was a time when all travel was akin to interplanetary. When you steered the ship or got moving forces would be exerted upon you. It kept you in place so that you’re not bouncing off the walls in the ship. Even then though, it wouldn’t save you.”
“Really?”
“Run into anything at speed in space and splat.” She slapped her hand on the armrest.
He slumped a bit in his seat.
She took another sip, “It’s just a legacy instruction. If I was steering and I was running you through the belt, I’d strap in.”
“You wouldn’t be drinking either I imagine.”
“No, I’d still be drinking, I plan on being good and toasty by the time we hit the belt on the other side. Steering the belt makes me nervous. I like to take the edge off.”
“You’re joking?”
She shrugged, “Either way, you’ll find out…”
Quinton reached down and began unbuckling his harnesses.
“Ata-boy.”
“I have to use the restroom.”
She pointed at a door through the bridge entrance, “Third door on the left.”
“Thanks.”
Quinton got up and shuffled to the door.
“Were you just going to hold it for five hours?”
He turned back and smiled. He scratched his head and looked at the floor, “I don’t know. I guess. Hey, when I get back could I um, get…”
“You want a drink?”
“Please.”
“I’ll get the cards too, college boy. Hope you have more experience with those than you do with space travel.”
Meerah shook her head and grabbed another glass. The kid was gonna be alright.