A minute later, Timothy stared at door through a sea of blue. The next moment, the pad was several dozen meters below him. Gel travel, as it was called, had revolutionized the way people traveled. What took elevators minutes to accomplish took gelevators only seconds. Gel travel was three times faster than regular elevator travel. Kilometer-high buildings could be scaled in under thirty seconds, and sometimes the system was used to move from building to building. Rather than walking, people could now shoot across the sky from pad to pad. If something went wrong, then the gel would break the fall for the person. Not only was this miracle gel fast, but it was solid, protecting the occupant or occupants inside it.

As soon as he had left the resting deck, he had arrived at the bridge deck. The gel sank back into the gel pad like water seeping into a drain. His uniform feeling slightly damp, he walked out into the corridor before him and headed past his office for the main bridge.

He finally approached the bridge doors, and they receded before him like slave's hands. Once again, the bridge expanded in front of him, and its sights and sounds flooded his eyes and ears.

The command chair whirled around to view the larger portion of the room with a 200 pound, six foot large human Supreme Admiral in it.

Timothy shifted in his seat so he could haze over at the chair beside him. "ETA Commander?"

"Four point five minutes, sir."

"Take us out of this purple paradox, Cadet," Timothy said four minutes later.

"Aye, sir."

The Spyglass jolted as it dropped out of Ultraspace, and the picture outside the gel window went from a lavender streak of space/time distortion to a big drop of black-dyed nothingness, filled with white-hot dots that were the only lights in the blackness. Near the center of the darkness was a spherical, green and blue colored object, eclipsing the biggest light in the area. That was Cracut, a small planet that housed a Federation colony and research center. In orbit of the planet was a mass of Titanium that was the Stockhart Orbital Shipyard. The yard itself was relatively small and appeared as only the size of a thumb from where Timothy was sitting. Through the slightly blue-tinted gel, Timothy noticed the nose of what looked like a Nuclear-class vessel that resembled the Spyglass's so much that at first Timothy had thought they had arrived at the wrong shipyard. It was then that he saw that the ship was lacking the double bulk of a Nuclear's thruster cones that stuck out on the North and South sides of the ship. It dawned on the Admiral that this was the fabled Columbia.

Timothy raised his chin out his hand and gazed at awe at the battleship. He stared straight ahead through the gel until the Spyglass pulled alongside the Columbia. That was the only time Timothy's head moved throughout the entire approach.The ship itself seemed almost twice the size of a Nuclear, not including the fact that most of the crew rarely ever saw the full size of their ship. Unlike the Spyglass's sky-colored outer hull, this ship was shaded in a dark gray mixed in with a small amount of chestnut. Scattered all over the port and starboard hull were dozens of small, oval pods. These chunks, as was the name of the technology, made up three-fourths of the battleship's weapons. Each an individual battery, they required no central power source and took up very little space on the hull. Chunks were the main technology that the Federation used on its starships because of their ability to be a mass produced, efficient weapon.

On the North and South hull all the way around the nose of the ship were the weapons that did require a central power source. These turrets were worth the price though, as they packed a punch far more harder than a regular chunk. Also, they were accurate long range, giving the ship a very wide firing range.

On either side of the massive ship, double wings that shelved both chunks on their lengths and turrets on their widths reached out toward space and the shipyard, making the ship appear to be a war bird of some kind. The hull matrix cascaded in the shape of the Spyglass's, with occasional jaunts off of the flagship's design. The major difference was the stub that jutted out in between the giant exhaust tubes.

Timothy was proud to look down on it, happy that it was on his side. The ship was a marvel in itself. It looked alive even as it sat in the restraints of the shipyard, an animal that wanted to break free. Looking at it made Timothy feel his age, a feeling he hadn't experienced in a while. Jacob was right: he was an old man, and even though at times he felt like he was three, there would always the reminders. Looking in the mirror in the morning, the sense of fatigue he always had in the middle of the day, listening to his slightly rocky voice as he spoke; all of these things, plus more, reminded the Admiral of his age. But now it was the Columbia that made him feel old; lazily gazing at that ship, new and eager like a baby. Slowly, a sense of disgust began creeping its way through Timothy's blood, flowing with it into his heart–

"Sir?" the low, whispering voice of Commander Trotsky said. Even though Timothy could barely hear him, the whisper still managed to make him jump.

"Yes, Commander?" Timothy replied.

Trotsky shushed him. "Not so loud." He gestured for Timothy to come closer. "So, sir, when should I have Leon start a core meltdown."

Timothy didn't get it at first. "Excuse me, Ron?" Had Trotsky gone mad. Maybe all the excitement of seeing the Columbia first hand and not on the newsnets was getting to his Second-In-Commands head.

Trotsky flicked his head at the Columbia and smiled ever so slightly.

"Oh," Timothy grinned. He lowered his voice. "Later, when it'll look like and accident."

Trotsky gave a thumbs up and sat back in his chair.

Timothy got up and walked down the stairway towards the communications row. "Ms. Shaftmore, the Columbia please."

"Aye, sir."

He stood and waited as Shaftmore played with the buttons on her console, and a mirror image of the bridge appeared on the holo, with the same, strong formed man sitting in the command chair.