Chapter Thirty-Two
One thing that Connor never got used to was the way stars never went out. It was something obvious and simple: They were big fusion reactors with near-limitless fuel. No one came in at night and turned them down. That was the illusion created by a planet spinning: sunrise, sunset. So it really messed with his mind when he was out on the hull of the Lucky Sevens, with nothing hiding the stars.
How could it be so large and him so small, sucking in stale, recycled oxygen, fighting back the dread chill of nausea in the face of the infinite?
That sense of hopelessness, the feeling of insignificance—it was crushing.
Drew must have caught the faraway look in his eyes, because she banged a hammer on the replacement plate they were securing over the hull breech.
The vibratio
