Kal felt so nervous she worried she might vomit. Not really, but maybe really. She clutched an air sickness bag just in case the combination of turbulence as the shuttle descended into the Corravian atmosphere, actual gravity replacing artificial gravity, and nerves getting the better of her.
She wore a carefully chosen tan wrap dress made of a wrinkle-resistant fabric. It traveled well and wouldn’t look like a lumpy sack of potatoes on her. Her hair had been slicked back and worked into a plait. Her shoes were flat-soled, strappy white sandals. She wore minimal jewelry and pulled the outfit together with a wide-brimmed hat and sunglasses. She rather thought her appearance smart if a bit of “tourist on holiday.” First impressions mattered. She couldn’t very well roll out of the shuttle in
