A direct hit by the enemy would turn ninety percent of this particular station back into the scrap it had started as.

"Not at war," she reminded herself. "Not anymore." Then she added aloud, "Shouldn't you let them know we're on our way in?"

"They know."

Eyes narrowed, Torin studied the board. There'd never been any question that Craig would teach her to both fly and repair the ship-she'd spent most of her previous career working to keep the Marines under her alive and now all that training and experience had been refocused on the Promise and her captain-but she'd been infantry and that meant starting essentially from scratch.

"Give me a large group of heavily armed people and I'll make it do whatever you want, but this.." Blowing out a deep breath, she'd shaken her head as she tried to make sense of the display. "I'm neither a pilot nor an engineer."

"You'll dux it out. This is easier than dealing with a large group of people."

"Maybe for you."

Definitely for him. Torin sectioned the board but still couldn't find a data stream that suggested the Promise was in communication with the station. "I don't see it," she admitted at last.

"They pinged us 100 kliks out and got the codes."

She stopped staring at the board and turned to stare at him. "That's it?"

"That's it."

"And docking?"

"I'll bring her in alongside a free nipple and we'll grapple in. Use the universal hookup if there's no match."

"Well, that's very…" Torin considered and discarded a few words. "… independent."

Craig grinned at her. "You're swearing inside, aren't you?"

"Not at all. Watch where you're going." She sat back and rested her hands on her thighs, watching so that her fingers didn't curl into fists. "I spent my entire career being carted around by the Navy, depending on their engineers to do the math right. This is just a difference in scale."