Forty-TwoThe deadline calendar stood at 125 days and the control room was buzzing. Abbuhl’s team had regenerated the cryopanels without incident; Prometheus once again was a functioning machine.
Watching from his lookout, Machuzak saw from the number of runs posted on the big screen that they’d been working all night. Hasschler slumped over a small table on the captain’s deck surrounded by styrofoam coffee cups; he’d been at it three shifts running.
The violation of regulations wasn’t what had turned Krieg-Zuber’s face scarlet. He strode purposefully into the control room and announced from the deck, “Whoever turned those webcams back on is undermining the Mission and has forced me to implement drastic measures. Iris scanners will be installed at the control room entrance, and the unauth
