Bolton sat in the command console. It was smaller than he remembered, a tight fit with all the fat he had put on. The bridge was nearly empty, just himself and the Caretaker at command stations; six of Siefert's men were on the boards back by navigation bringing systems up. He watched vid as the freighter docked, chewed a thumbnail as he looked at the APA flitter that hung silent and ominous a few clicks off to port. It had not answered a hail.
"Want me to call it again?" asked the Caretaker, sensing Bolton's thought.
"No, we'll find out what's up in due time."
Silence then, broken only by keyboard clicks as the Caretaker continued to run status checks. "I hope we get a lot of good compers outta them troops, or we're gonna have a hell of a time takin' her through jump."