“Why’d we have to park so far away?” Kayla asked as she felt Alan’s forehead. “And why did we have to spend the night in the shuttle?”
“Do you know what you’re feeling for?” Brandon asked Kayla.
“No,” she admitted and withdrew her hand. “I saw you do it, so assumed it must be helpful.”
“It’s only helpful if you know what to look for. Does his head feel hot to your touch?”
“Yes, a little.”
“A little is okay. If it felt extremely hot, that would be bad.”
“But his skin is white again,” Kayla said. “He’s not talking. He seems worse.”
The early morning light shone through the open cabin door of Brandon’s shuttle on to Alan’s pale face and half-closed eyelids. Out of the three of them, Alan was the only one who got much sleep—but, as Kayla pointed out, he didn’t look so good.
Brandon wa
