Explorer

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Steam went up as the shower needled Bren’s back—a moment of blissful content in a voyage neither that blissful nor content.

And considering the call he’d just gotten in the middle of his night, he stayed, head against the wall, longer than his habit, eyes shut, letting the steam make a warm, blind cocoon around him, letting the shower run on recycle for uncounted warm minutes. Complex input was suspended, output temporarily unnecessary.

But a brain habituated to adrenaline could stand tranquility only so long before worry tunneled its way back.

What’s Jase want ?—followed closely by— We’re not that far from moving —and:

This could be the big move. Natural, wouldn’t it be, if that’s what the navigators are doing up there, setting up the final move, that Jase would want to talk now?

It’s my night. He knew he’d wake me up. Jase could come here.

Couldn’t be any ship-problem, could it? Nothing mechanical. Mechanical problems surely couldn’t be at issue.

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