He waited to see an enemy ship every moment and fully expected it, but nothing came. He sat on a viewing deck close to the outer skin of the Washington’s hull with a real view out to space. It always felt different seeing it with one’s own eyes than on a projected display. The window was just a metre wide and had a large blast door slung over it, ready to shut at a moment’s notice. Where Mitch stood was one of the few luxuries of the ship. It was quiet and relaxing, and the view out to space made it feel so much less claustrophobic than the rest of the vessel. He imagined the feeling was much like that of working aboard a submarine in their oceans; a job he never envied. Living at sea was something he always enjoyed, but the notion of the environment outside being fatal made Taylor feel sick at times. A hand reached onto his shoulder and even though he wore his armour, he could feel it was a light touch. It could only be one person in the world. He felt his shoulders relax from the highly-strung state he had been in and turned with a smile to see Eli.
