13
The Derelict Station
April spent a sleepless night planning every possible route back to the Triomphe, and for once she was grateful when Hakim woke up in a math fog and she didn’t have to make small talk. After breakfast of just coffee now that the fruit and nut bars had run out, she floated in the aft pod, the reader in her hands in sleep mode as she watched Hakim curled around his own reader, one of her hair sticks playing the role of stylus today. How had that gotten out of her bag?
“We’ll be docking in about fifteen minutes,” Salima called back to them. She had put on her headset and buckled herself before the piloting controls. Hakim grunted, lost in his problem. April put her reader away, but the hair stick in his hand gave her an idea.
“Do you mind if I change?” she asked. “
