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Then he unclipped and sailed up to the bridge to discover Ghindi and Spart at work and the other two asleep. The computer ticked away. Thorn came gingerly closer off the overhead, hanging upside down over Ghindi's post and a little back so that he could see the screen.
Ghindi turned her chair around and looked up. She had that look people had when they came face-to-face with him; and then she banished it for one he could not well read. Exhaustion. Sadness. Was it love? It made no 202
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sense. He tumbled over and righted himself with a move of his hand that helped him turn. Perhaps the look made more sense right-side up.
"I'm sorry," Thorn said, meaning for bothering her in her work. He wanted to go and hide himself below before Duun found out.
She started at him, bewildered. They were both tired and a little crazed.
They could not make sense to each other. "We'll get you there," she said.
(To Gatog?) Thorn was dismayed. He showed it like a child. Less seemed dishonest toward Ghindi. "Are you kosan?" he asked. He remembered the pilots.
"Tanun," Ghindi named her guild. Tanun,seafarers. It seemed appropriate to him.
"Ghindi," Spart said from his computers. "We've got another burn from Kandurn."
Ghindi turned as if Thorn had fallen suddenly from her world. "We're getting short, aren't we?"
"We're getting short. I think we'd better get Weig and Moga
Thorn began to turn, found purchase with his foot and dived for the downward hatch, sailed through into that dim light and tumbled to hit a wall and stop. "Duun. They're calling the crew up. It sounds like we're short of time."
Duun moved in his drifting and looked at him. "How short?"
"I don't know. I don't know how to tell, except there's some good bit less time than we had, forty minutes one time and now they've had another burn."
Duun touched bottom and shot up like a swimmer for the light. Thorn touched and followed.
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Moga
All very calm. The routine of the bridge went on, except the suiting. Spart and Ghindi took their turn and got back into their seats. Duun drifted loose, suited, helmetless. The waiting became tedium. Thorn's, heart once beating in panic could not sustain it. Panic ebbed down to long vexation.
He wanted a drink of water. If he did that he might regret it. In such small indignities the worst moments proceeded. Thoughts of itches inaccessible.
His own sweat inside the suit, gathered and undispersed. He hung in midair, watching the viewpoint for want of other distraction in this slow creeping of time and the beep of incoming messages droning methodically about the insane business of ghotanin who wished to kill them. Ships had begun to overcommit. Calm voices reported the facts and called it things like zero-return and no-turnaround.
(Strangely enough you don't get to see the stars much. You can see from the shuttle if you get up front…. It's beautiful.) A star brightened while he watched, brightened and brightened, and his heart slammed into rapid beats. "Duun! Weig!" It began to be a sphere.
"Get to that seat!" Duun yelled, and shot that way himself. Thorn dived, caught the back of one and hauled himself into it by the armrest, reached for the furled restraints and started fastening them. He looked up, ahead of them where the star had vanished. "Where is it?" They had not turned, could not have turned: the shuttle had nothing left.
"Helmet," Duun said. Thorn pushed the button on the armrest, pulled up the co
(O gods, how do people get used to this?)
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There was another star. All in silence. Only the breathing sounds, the faraway noises of the shuttle's operations that were everywhere ambient, but dimmed by the helmets.
He switched cha
The sweat gathered on his body and his arm was going to sleep until he shifted it. ("Damn suits never fit," Duun had said.) It was better than the flightsuit. Looser.
(Another star. Are those missiles or are those ships? Are those ships dying?)
The crew-talk made no sense to him, full of codes. He cut third cha
"Duun, what's happening?"
"They're within range of each other. And of us, with far less accuracy. The hatani have headed them off. Outmaneuvered them, if they don't let one get past. If they do they'll never get a second chance and we can't stop it."
The flashes went on. Thorn shut his eyes and opened them again, wishing he dared take the helmet off. The air was cold and stung his throat and nose and eyes.
"That's Ga
"How's Ga
A pause. "Zero-return. So's No
"Can't the station send something out?" Thorn asked. "Couldn't earth?"
"Station's in ghota hands," Duun said. "Unfortunately. Hatani there were too few. But there's no ship at the station now— Hatani got that, thank the gods, or ghotanin'd have overhauled us from behind. It was the ghota outliers that hit us up ahead. Station's got one shuttle left; earth has a few.
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But a shuttle can't stop Ga
(Sphitti's voice: "Here's an application now. If you were drifting in midair— no friction and no gravity—)
("You can't.")
("Say that you could.")
(Angles and lines on a schoolroom screen—)
There was a long time that the crew and the doomed ships talked, business only.
"That's it," Thorn heard one say. "We're going to hit the well— looks like three days on. It could be worse. Like four."
"We hear you," Weig said. There was sorrow in his voice. Thorn listened and stared at the points of light. His arm and his leg were numb. No one moved to take off the suits. Debris on intersect.He remembered that. The other two ships talked awhile. There was no better news.
(This is more dreadful than the planes. This silence. This inevitability of ships that meet that fast, with distances that take days. For Betan it was quick. These men and women will have time to talk and eat and sleep and wake three times before they hit the ground. Before they skim through the well and get caught and dragged in.)
"…we think," No
We don't know yet."
"We'll miss your company then," Ga
A long pause. "Yes, we hear that." Quickly, from No
"Don't be embarrassed about it. This isn't a trip we want to share."