There was a blip, a buzz. Then, a tortured squelch from the speakers. A few seconds passed, before Ray’s cold, robotic monotone droned out.
“Trask. I have fully integrated with the blessed machine.”
The terminal in front of Trask flickered, died, and rebooted in a matter of seconds. A readout started transcribing itself as Ray spoke.
“Reactor output is at one-hundred, twenty-two percent.
Point defenses have been recalibrated to eight-hundred, fifty meters.
Life support is stable, unoccupied rooms have been vented to insure airflow to occupied areas.
Shields have been calibrated, and are actively resonating.
I will remotely mark targets for the fleet.”
An overlay shimmered across the bridge’s forward viewports, marking several phantom targets briefly.
“You have the helm, Admiral.”