Creon stared. He’d picked a gopping wonderful time to use the head. When he did manage to get back onto the bridge, they’d already exited hyperspace. Roughly, from the sound of all the shouting and alarms. Seeing that everyone was obviously aware of the danger, he anticipated West’s next order and slammed his hand against the “silence alarm” button on the wall. For now, that would be the most useful thing he could do. There was such a thing as too many cooks in the kitchen. Until either something went horribly wrong that would require his attention, a sailor seriously screwed up, or the captain needed him, he’d just stand at the back of the bridge, out of the way, yet looming.