Thirty-Seven
“What next?” Brice asked as soon as he entered the Bridge. Keelin sat in the pilot’s chair, her eyes half-closed, but she turned when he spoke. She looked…almost peaceful.
“Think we’re pretty much there. For the basics, anyway.”
“What about Jettison?” He’d seen the gaping hole in the side of the escape module on one of his many jobs outside.
“Nothing we can do about that.” Keelin dropped her eyes.
“What happened with it anyway?”
She shrugged. “Maybe something hit the craft when it last came down.” But she didn’t sound convinced. And Brice might not be that smart, but he knew that metal didn’t twist outward like that unless there was pressure from inside.
But she didn’t want to talk about it. That was fine. If this thing could fly without Jettison, he was happy. Beside
