I used the time to finish the data extractions for the log entries on systems that had shut down cleanly. I had the new data plugged into the time-delay model by the end of the watch. It was odd working on the bridge with the ship docked. I had gotten used to the dimness of the lighting while underway. When in port, the light reflecting off the orbital’s bathed the area in a glaring illumination. It was rather thrilling to see the ships docked on either side of us. The dock to port had been empty when we had arrived but the Josiah Wedgwood occupied the next berth beyond. The John C. Calhoun rested to starboard and I smiled, remembering of our last night back in Dunsany Roads. I wasn’t alone on the bridge. Salina Matteo was on third section and her station was there as well. She was a short woman who wore her hair longer than any spacer I had met. Not that it was long, by any means, but when almost everybody else wore their hair in one close-trimmed configuration or another, her page-boy cut seemed very long by comparison.
