11
Sellafield, England
Winn, Thornbury and a sweat-soaked Paul breathed heavy and stared at the screens on the monitors. The alarm had stopped. The control room back to its standard lighting and the cursor onscreen an inch away from the button that would have shut down the reactor.
All gauges were relaxing out of the red. And every other reading was normalising. Winn and his colleagues had control over the room again, and more important, the reactor.
Paul wasn’t the only one sitting agape in a pool of his own sweat. Winn put a hand to his chest, his heart still having mini palpitations.
‘We’ve got full in-flow of water,’ Paul confirmed, reading off his screen. ‘Back to full pressure.’
‘Fuel rod temperature?’ Thornbury asked.
‘Still high, but stabilising,’ Winn replied. ‘And the core
