Thirty-One
Brice didn’t have a clue what he was doing, but he followed Keelin’s instructions. She’d pulled up a video and played it on a screen, talking him through the way the engine casing slid back and the configuration of the various wires and tubes. He’d listened as she told him about the high-resistance cable, and the delta feed, and the coolant that needed to be encased in a layer of guard-gel. And then he’d stepped outside the craft.
The Deck lighting was dim, and most of the light came from the Hermes itself. The place was still, the shadows deep. It felt like a tomb.
Brice almost missed the constant rain outside.
The air was dead, with the aroma of fuel and grease. The only sounds were his footsteps, and that felt eerily wrong. High up on the far wall was the tower, jutting o
