“Helmets on,” Mira said. “Full seal.”
“Drifting. No propulsion signature. But it’s on a slow vector toward the carrier’s location. Or what was the carrier’s location.” carrier p5-7 fail
Mira ignored the corpse—she had learned long ago that sentiment was a luxury in hard vacuum—and focused on the pod’s control panel. The screen was cracked but still glowing. Lines of text scrolled upward, too fast to read. She plugged her suit’s data probe into the pod’s auxiliary port, and the text froze. “Helmets on,” Mira said