From outside, there was a long scream. An enormous one. Like, Godzilla-sized, or maybe bigger. Everyone on the bridge froze. A brass section from nowhere played an ominous sting: bahm-pahhhhhhhhhhm. “You’re kidding,” I said, looking around. “A sound track?” “I don’t mean to,” Ensign Molly said in a strained, teenager tone. She had a Russian accent that sounded exactly like Sanya. “I watched show too much when I was kid, okay?”
