“Voller?” I repeat, raising my voice.
“Never mind, Voller,” Kane says. At the same time, Voller finally answers with a distracted, “Yeah, what?”
I stare at Kane in astonishment.
“Make up your minds,” Voller says. “Some of us are trying to work here.”
“It’s not necessary,” Kane says to me, and even through the faceplate I can see his chagrin.
“You can’t know that,” I argue. “And before we—”
“I can,” he says, clearly trying to keep a lid on his frustration. “Because it wasn’t someone in an enviro suit. Just something vaguely person-shaped. Which is impossible.” He shakes his head, the movement minimal with the restriction of his suit and helmet. “I guess I’m just more affected by this than I thought.”
Which is more than understandable. And he sounds annoyed at himself but certain.
Still, I can’t shake the nagging sense that he’s holding something back.
“Is everything all right?” Lourdes asks cautiously.
“Yes,” Kane answers before I can say anything. “We’re good.”
“I think Nysus and I have what we need for the upgrade,” Lourdes says.
“And I’m already packed up,” Nysus adds, eagerness clear in his voice.
I look around me at the passengers we’ve brought to the atrium, bobbing gently at various heights above the ground. They look like seeds on a breeze just before they land and bear gruesome fruit.“I think we’re as ready as we’re going to be. Voller, what’s your status?”
I expect to have to prompt him again, but his reply comes immediately in the form of a sigh.
“Air came back clean, no known contaminants,” Voller says. “That means dick when it comes tounknowncontaminants, but as far as the ship is able to tell, it’s safe for us to breathe in here once we get the lifeboat environmentals up and running.”
“But?” I prompt because I can feel it coming. And because he’s said nothing about the engines.
“But we have another problem,” Voller confirms grimly. “You and Behrens should come to the bridge.”
13
“Primary navigational PCB is fried. Secondary, too. The whole rig is bad. Probably exposure or electrical activity from two decades of solar flares. Maybe both,” Kane says, his head still stuck inside the open panel of the navigation control bank.
Nysus pipes in, advising Kane from the LINA. “Do you see the bubbling damage?”
“Yeah, I got it,” Kane says. “Hang on.” He removes himself carefully, the maneuver further complicated by his helmet and his suit. He’s used to crawling around inside the LINA without either.
“What does that mean?” I ask Kane.
“It means we’ve got engines fired up and nowhere to go,” Voller says, sounding distinctly sulky.
I look to Kane. To my surprise, he nods.
“Without the nav rig, we have no helm control,” he says.
“Steering wheel’s disconnected, TL, and there’s no autopilot because the ship can’t tell where it is in space,” Voller adds in an overly patient tone.
Embarrassing as it is, that makes more sense to me than the technical explanation.
“Okay, so what now?” I ask.
“They might have spare parts somewhere on board,” Kane says. “But there’s no guarantee that they’re in any better shape.”
