“Phase sickness,” Morris reported.
“Phase sickness?”
“That’s what i said,”
“What’s that?”
“Something that we, humans, aren’t equipped to take, apparently,” Morris iterated.
“Your bodies are too fragile.” smiled Tarn, “Yes, too fragile for phasing.”
“What’s our status then?”
Karapanov stood up, sitting into the Nav-Chair. With a few calculations and observations, he said, “Parallel with the Karama near docking-ring,”
“You did this?” Locke said to the Grenna.
“I did. Another two minutes, and you would have perished.”
Karapanov was smug, “You could have docked us,”
“I’m not a pilot; I do science,” Tarn seemed hurt.
“Begin docking protocol,” Locke ordered.
“Aye,” the russian went to work.
Morris and Locked observed the unconscious Vargus.
“Should we just let him sleep?” the doc asked, “It’s peaceful when he sleeps.”
Locke offered a wry smile. “I’ll not board the ship with her captain down. Best wake him?”
“Can you? The man frightens me,” he received a shot in the arm, and Jim nodded knowingly.