![]() ![]() “You can sit next to me, Cadet West.” Junior Officer Pogue, lead military soldier for the Winthrop-Humanity research mission, patted the space next to him on the narrow steel bench used for landings. Entry into a planet’s atmosphere is always a bumpy ride.” “Best to find a seat for the duration of the flight. “Just some stronger than expected atmospheric change.” The rest of the pilot’s statement came through loud and clear. She awarded the helmet another not-so-gentle tap. ![]() What was the point? Technological know-how might be better than ever, but resources had been practically non-existent even before she was born. She refused to consider what that meant for the worn shuttle parts themselves. Like so much of her other mission gear, the darn thing had been rebuilt so many times it was barely functional. ![]() She gave it a smack to smooth out the sound. “Nothing to be concerned about.” The pilot’s calm voice crackled through her military-issued helmet. With a hasty shove, she secured the last of the test tubes in the storage bay. The shrill blare of a warning alarm snapped Cadet Annabella West to attention. ![]()
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