Karapanov took the controls, as Locke and Vargus secured the airlock. “We’re set. Take us away.”
“Aye, captain, firing thrusters,” Karapanov’s hands flickered over the nav-console as he unmated the shuttle from The Karama. He engaged comms.
“Amethyst, this is Runner1 on route for approach.”
Static ate at the channel.
The grey grenna shook its head.
The russian repeated his hail. It went ignored.
“Nothing, Cap,”
“This is how it is, Locke. Static!” Vargus said.
“Use thrusters only Kar,” Locke ordered, “Take us in slowly,”
The shuttle was deafly silent as it coasted through the space between the two Alliance vessels. Within the cabin, one could hear a pin drop.
Karapanov was first to show the signs.
He fell into a cold sweat. The pressure behind his eyes. His bones rattled in pain. It became difficult to breathe.
“Pushing out of Phase! Must Turn Back,” Tarn jumped excitedly. “Turn back!”
The russian collapsed at the helm. The Doc fell over both captains, as the comms crackled. “Are you there?”