Weston looked at Palin for a moment. “He doesn’t like the null gravity. He probably has a sensitive stomach.”

Milla grinned. She had known his like in the fleet. Despite the artificial gravity on their ships, null gravity was a commonplace occurrence, and many fleet candidates found out the hard way that space service wasn’t their optimal career choice.

A moment later they were on the lift, and Milla felt the rotational gravity return as the lift matched the speed of the Odyssey’s habitat module.

Captain Weston retrieved the Magboots from Milla and Palin, stowing them away in the lift’s compartment. “Bridge.”

CHAPTER 10

DR. PALIN LEFT Weston and Milla in the lift when he exited to head for his lab and the data they had retrieved from the pod and derelict vessel.

“Bridge,” Weston instructed the computer.

“Captain on deck!” The crewman’s announcement brought the officers manning their stations to attention.

“As you were,” Weston said. He didn’t want his presence to disturb the work that had to be done. “Commander Roberts, what’s our position?”

The commander looked at Milla, appraising her intently. After a moment, he shrugged and looked back to the captain. “Completing another orbit, sir. The carnivore drones have finished the planetary survey, unless you want something else?”

“No. Call them back,” Weston said after a moment, looking at the screen, a frown forming on his face. “No signals from the surface?”

“No, sir.”

Milla recognized the world that filled the large screen from the last time she’d been in this very position, though on a different vessel. She shivered, thinking about the pictures Captain Weston had shown her, and felt the urge to be anywhere but here.

She felt a flush of guilt and steeled herself against it. She may not be able to do anything for the people who’d died there, but she would not disgrace herself or them by running from her own weakness. Not that she actually could run far.

Her reactions went unnoticed by the others as Weston continued speaking with his first officer.

“When the drones are back, we’ll break orbit. How long until the transition threshold?”

“Fourteen hours, sir,” Roberts replied without hesitation. It had been the first thing he’d checked before anything else, including the recon data from the carnivore drones.

“All right. Break orbit as soon as the flight deck reports the drones have been recovered,” Weston ordered, more for the record than anything else. “Best speed out of the system.”

Transition threshold? Milla looked from one officer to another, hoping for some clue to the meaning of the words. She searched each face, finding nothing more than a look of disgust, a wince of pain glimmering across one face, and the occasional look of controlled terror.

“What destination, sir?” Roberts asked.

Weston started to speak but stopped. Technically, he was only responsible for dropping Milla off at the next port of call—at least under the revised Maritime Act to which all space-going vessels adhered to in the Sol System. In practice, that meant returning the rescued to Earth, though they had dropped off some at the Mars base or the Jovian research platforms. This was a different situation. In the Sol System, the longest wait would have been a few weeks. A month or two at the outside. Taking Milla to Earth, however, could delay another authorized expedition for several years or longer. Especially considering the carnivore data they’d just picked up.