Helen fastened her safety belt, and so did Chekov. Everyone on the Blue Rose was securely strapped to their seats.
Fatty was even more thorough; he practically tied himself up like a rice dumpling.
The battleship was accelerating. Besides the roar of the engines, there was no other sound on board. Everyone waited in dead silence for their fate to be decided.
Fatty reached out and grabbed the communicator. At that moment, he felt a sudden urge to say something.
It was a lie to say he wasn't nervous. Despite confidently assuring everyone that as long as the speed didn't exceed ten kilometers per second, the destroyer would be fine, Fatty had been praying to all the gods he knew.
Calculations based on theoretical data didn't always come true. What would happen if they collided? Fatty had no real certainty himself.
But Fatty knew he had no other choice.
