I traced the seam between the top and bottom segments of the tip of my back right index finger. Despite them looking like the same somewhat glossy obsidian material the top was hard and didn't yield to the touch of my front index finger, while the bottom was soft and rubbery similar to a human finger's. I started when I realized what I was doing. This was the closest I had to a cuticle and I was looking for imperfections, a habit ingrained from an old life that shouldn't have mattered. The compulsion to tear off loose bits of skin and reveal a sensitive new layer beneath, not caring if I tore off too much and a drop of blood would well up from the pin prick wound.

Blood. Maybe if I could get some I could calm my nerves. Negate an old compulsion with a new one before anyone noticed. Would Velteragni let me have some? What was I thinking? We were about to perform an insane maneuver that involved us making several superluminal translations around a gas giant that was a hair's breadth away from being massive enough to achieve fusion to get the drop on an enemy fleet. Everyone's focus was on the amazing Vugni approved battle plan. A request for a blood offer right then would no doubt break some unspoken etiquette. Besides, this was about my fingers, right? I would just have to focus on their smoothness, learn there was nothing to pick at and stop signalling my discrepancies.

No dice. The smoothness was too enticing and soothing. I traced the seam down to the shimmering gold joint and back up. Down. Up. Down. Up. There had to be something. Maybe...

Thirty of my fingers coiled tightly around Hekkamuk, the ceremonial spear that was given to me during the launch ceremony. Three pairs of my hands were occupied now, 59 more pairs left. Wherever I could I went about a nearby seemingly important enough task. No good. Before long 38 of me were still fidgeting their—my fingers (language could get confusing when describing my new mode of life). "Twelve minutes until commencing battle plan," I announced from 60 mouths. After that I turned away from any crew nearby to hide my nervous hands which was harder on certain decks, grabbing hold of the seating of my taborets if I was anywhere near them. One engineer in Mundane Propulsion raised an eyebrow then quickly pretended not to notice. Two men and a woman in sensor deck nine seemed amused, shooting glances among themselves. Curse this tic of mine.

"Don't worry about their numbers," Velramuran said as if she read my mind, "We're with one more than they reckoned and well before they expected us. They stand no chance. Trust me, and trust yourself. You agreed to the plan because hidden behind that fear you feel the strength and power you were born with. So much more than they have."

I wasn't feeling that right then, no matter how sound the plan was to my rational mind. "No," I blurted out, shifting nervously on my taboret, "That's too many for someone with no experience in battle." Indeed, there had been too little time to test my abilities, the captains and fleet captain instead opting to put their trust in the Korremzha Mil Vugni's—and ultimately Trurl's—word. Maybe my words were too negative for someone in my position, but this was my first time in regular space, too, for Pete's sake.

A sudden hand on my shoulder but it was a calming one. "Rather than doubting your own capabilities, why not ask yourself why they bother with such large numbers against our small fleet?" It was Velteragni who spoke up, smiling that smile she reserved only for me. "It's them who have no doubts." After her sudden return to the Golden Fleet's navy as a captain, she too was unproven in her new role. Unlike me, though, she had experienced combat with Elanansur, rising through the ranks at an impressive pace before she retired. From what I understood it was Elanansur herself who had convinced her to return from civilian life and try for the position. Supposedly me and my sisters were unable to make anything but the best choice in that regard, and despite my self-doubt I ironically had complete trust in her abilities to guide me through this.

Her words assuaged my fears a bit but not completely. None of the fleet knew how much of a fish out of water I was, wouldn't even be familiar with the phrase 'fish out of water'. Still, I had to keep up appearances lest I ran out of goodwill with the top brass, or worse, endeared myself even more to my crew. They might start to think I'm cute. Hell, they probably already did after all my fidgeting.

"Apologies for my outburst just now," I said in a too stilted but undeniably sincere tone that I'm sure my new sisters would make fun of later, "I will surely see so for myself." In just a few minutes.

Elanansur flashed a sharp-toothed grin. "No worries, littlest sis." She called me that with great fondness. Fondness for me and the fact she was no longer the youngest with her 687 years against my single day. With her arms hanging over her crossbow—like my own weapon it was ceremonial—steadying it against her shoulders and back of her neck she was the vision of nonchalance. "You'll know what to do and be amazing at it. So don't be afraid to live." She smiled and stared off into a distant past. "Never was a reason for that."

The projections of the others phased out with careful and gentle celerity, leaving just me and the command staff. High bandwidth communication would be suspended until victory was achieved. I enlarged the projection of our planned approach to the engagement volume; all essentially straight lines at oblique angles, orbital mechanics so much nonsense in the face of a proper Contract Drive. Meanwhile, in my arboretum, a great frog croaked, the water in its shallow pond rippling as it did so. It was as happy here with artificial gravity as it could be anywhere down a well.

"Three minutes until commencing battle plan."

There was a mad dash amongst the crew to ingest some form of coffee or chocolate—mostly the former—in loosely defined ritual. Chocolate coated coffee beans were very popular as one could quickly grab a handful during an idle moment. Especially the crew in the Mundane Propulsion decks downed their cacao and caffeine in record time before putting on the helmets of their heat warding suits.

"Two minutes until commencing battle plan. Long range cannons fully charged, ready to fire." I looked over to Velteragni opened my mouth again, then closed it. She gave me another one of her smiles. Unwilling to admit wanting her reassurance I set my shoulders, loosened my grip on Hekkamuk, and tapped it on the floor. I had no idea why I did that last thing.

Despite a good part of the crew being composed of newcomers they surprised me with their efficiency, leaving most of me as not much more than cheerleaders. I guess it made perfect sense that a civilization that has depended on their Ships for longer than their archivists' inquiries could reach would produce individuals with the proper skills and mindset. More croaking from the frog. I tapped Hekkamuk against the floor again.

"One minute until commencing battle plan."

The crew members assigned duty of worship for the day started the litany of the warship without pausing their work, every line repeated by the rest of the minute. On some decks they were accompanied by a sort of curved zither or harp mounted on a sound board attached to the floor where the strings were vibrated by a wheel, all of these were backed by a crew member with a simple wooden percussion instrument.

O, young wandering sun, protect thy sister, our sanctuary.

In your hull we travail so you may be victorious.

Shelter us with your love, lash out at our enemies with great hate.

That the King of Sorrow's efforts may be halted in your path.

He will know our passage will be granted free.

So it will be.

The prayers, while not entirely synchronized, reverberated through my aural sensors. In the shared experience of my avatars the sound coagulated and became its own living thing. Tap.

"Thirty seconds until commencing battle plan."

I felt a pulsing in my chests. A plasmatic fire simultaneously cold and hot leaked out from my spines that flared and spread with every beat until finally flowing over into my greater self. Closing my prime avatar's eyes I figured it a shade that shifted between magenta and violet.

Tap.

"Twelve seconds until commencing battle plan."

The fire raged, fueled by the susurration of prayer. I could not remain seated and hopped of my taboret, my soles and heels hitting the floor with sharp clacks.

Tap.

"Eleven."

It did not want to be contained. The pale white flame surrounding Hekkamuk's spearhead grew fierce and ignited into that shade of magenta I felt. I caught a glimpse of Velteragni's expression as she saw it: happy and a bit exilerated. I was doing well.

Tap.

"Ten."

It would pierce the enemy fleet, engulf it, boil it. At once four of my hands were free and tensely grasping at the free air, all of them animated by the fire. Even some of my secondary avatars followed suit. I was one being after all.

Tap.

"Nine."

Space whistled and hissed, unaware. I started pacing to bleed off a tiny bit of that fire roiling inside of me. My imagination stirred with the possibilities of what I could do, what I would do, to those unfortunate fools on board their inferior vessels. And their husks, those empty shells so hated by my sisters? Who could possible give a damn about unthinking, mass produced garbage? Noone would protest, right? Maybe I was getting intoxicated with the power I could summon with a mere thought, the enemy fleet's numbers almost forgotten.

Tap.

"Eight."

I kept pacing. Ah, how agonizing these long seconds!

Tap.

"Seven."

Pacing pacing pacing. How agonizing!

Tap.

"Six."

Too long!

Tap.

"Five."

Let me go!

Tap.

"Four."

Let me!

Tap.

"Three."

Let me!!

Tap.

"Two."

Croaking.

Let me!!!

Tap.

"One."

Finally the delivering order by Fleet Captain Obettur was given. "All Warships fire."

Tap!