at his hands. “And how do you plan on overcoming this? If it happens again?” Greg bit his lip and looked over at Emma. She looked concerned now. “I… I just will. Trust the suit. The suit’s basically a contained environment. As long as I’m inside it, I’ll be ok.” “Maybe. Might also be easier said than done. No telling how you’ll deal with that in zero gravity.” Brennan looked at Emma. Her hands were folded on the table in front of her. Tightly. She was trying to contain herself. “Goddamnit, Mancuso. I’d send you both if I could, but I was told we had just one seat on that shuttle.” He shook his head and gritted his teeth. “Ms. Franklin, We’re going to need permission from your mother.” Emma beamed. * Greg slid the door open to his apartment and walked inside. He threw his pack onto the couch and kicked the coffee table into the wall sending a spike of pain through his foot. “Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” He limped around the room for a couple of laps then crashed into the couch raising his leg to his chest. He wondered if he broke his toe. Greg rolled around on the couch in a ball for a moment, eyes welling with tears. He barely remembered the walk home. He ran most of the way in a haze of self-loathing. “You really fucked yourself over, Greg.” There was no-one in the room. “Talking to yourself should help. You fucking idiot.” He rolled off the couch and onto the floor. He fumbled around for his pack and pulled his tablet out of it. Tam? U there? Silence. Greg stared at the screen on his tablet. He wiped his eyes on his sleeve. He tapped again. Hey. Tam wrote back. Hey. I didn’t get it. Emma’s going. A pause. Then the typing indicator. Come over and make me some soup. Greg smiled despite himself. BRT.
026 Lighthouse. Bryce Nolan paced across the Command Deck. With Mancuso and the science team in the boardroom there wasn’t much for him to do except chew on the events of the last eight hours. They’d lost Pandora yesterday morning and then hadn’t heard a thing from the object. He’d thought that would be the end of it. And then it appeared. “There it is!” Wilkins, excited. Bryce called for Mancuso immediately as the science team scrambled to track the thing. The flashes kept on coming. The excitement on the Command Deck ratcheted up with each new flash. Mancuso and the rest of the science team walked onto the deck like a man possessed, eyes red, clutching his chest. Bryce wondered if he was having a heart attack when he started barking at him for an update. “The object’s back. Increased rate…” Was all he got out before Wilkins shouted excitedly. “Another one! And again! It’s increasing exponentially!” Even the shuttle docking crew crowded around the science station, jostling to get a look at the relay from Watchtower as the object streaked like a bullet across the asteroid belt. “It’s so fast!” Wilkins exclaimed. They all marvelled at it. That was two hours ago. Bryce walked over to the vacant science station and brought up the most-recent footage of the object. He ran it, stared at the graceful sinusoidal rhythm slicing a curve through space. Since then it had settled into a regular pattern, bursts every ten minutes or so. How could they hope to outrun a thing like that? What was he supposed to tell their ships? The science team emerged from the boardroom and approached him. “Mancuso’s gone to his quarters. Said he wasn’t feeling good,” Wilkins informed him before returning to his seat. “How’d that go?” Bryce asked Ortega. He shrugged and took his seat. Wiped the video off his screen dismissively and brought up the navigational screen. “Commander wants us to track this thing and get a course for it.” “Of course.” Wilkins nodded at him and sat down, wiping his eyes. He looked tired. Bryce paced over to Pradeep’s comm station and leaned on the console. “Hey Sunil. Do you have any signals coming