As Lyn waited for Ani to get to the window, she heard from her first officer.
“Franklin to the bridge.”
“Randall here, Marc. Where are you?”
“In my quarters.” His cabin was the farthest aft on the Bridge Deck, next to the muster area known as the Paddock.
A loud thunk came through the link followed by a groan. “I can’t get out.”
“Don’t try,” she said. “It’s not safe. Ani and I are working to regain helm control.”
“Acknowledged.” He sounded disappointed.
“Captain,” Ani called in.
“What have you got?”
“Give the forward starboard thruster 20 percent for fifteen seconds.”
Lyn entered the command. The yaw lessened.
“Now tap the port ascent thruster.”
“Tap? That’s not very precise.”
“It’s a feeling, not a number. Want me to do it?”
“I can handle it.” She tapped the button.
“Once more.”
Lyn tapped again. She felt a little less like dice tossing in a cup.
“Good,” Ani said. “Now we’re just pitching ass over teakettle.”
“That a technical term?” Rather than be annoyed by Ani’s flippant remark, Lyn was relieved. If she could stress-joke, she wasn’t freaking out.
“Yep. I need you to toggle the forward ventral thrusters, maybe ten seconds, followed by the aft dorsal by five seconds.”
Ten seconds, five seconds. Sweat beaded Lyn’s face, the faceplate fogging slightly. “Why both?”
“Endurance is fussy,” Ani replied. “The manual buttons are clunky and imprecise. Best to be ready to work both.”
“You might be the only person who knows these controls better than I do,” Lyn said.
To be continued…
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