“The Hood?” Marrisa Renard said in genuine surprise. 

“Good Christ my grandmother served and the Hood and it was bloody old even then, I am amazed that it can still even make FTL.”

They were in her ready room, a long room of the Bridge that attached to her cabin. Commander Emery shrugged helplessly.

“Captain we can't rely on ships that are likely to shake themselves apart when they fire their thrusters and it is all very well to look to ourselves in combat but we can't close the gaps in the line that these clunkers will create if the shit drops in the pot.” It was a good tactical analysis but it wasn’t a good personal one.

“True, but odds are good that  the good commodore resents being in command of an old clunker when there are newer ships already assigned. It is probable that he will keep us in the rear where we can form our own formation when things get hairy.” She adjusted the holographic display trying to figure out how she would handle deployments if she were in charge of this ratfuck. Which she might well be if it went badly south.

“Any luck raising the Resource?”