diagnostic test on the comm relays,” Saffett said. Her communications specialist was seated, intently staring at his interface terminal, hands covering the speakers of his headphones. The night specialist was standing over his shoulder, her own headphones on while she manipulated the arms of the
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“Well?” Lieutenant Commander Glass inquired.
Saffett looked to the floor and shook his head. “Everything works perfectly. We’ve reached Io and
Constance wanted to lash out then, to belittle their foolish incompetence and diagnostic tomfoolery, but Constance calmed herself and breathed through her nose. Now’s not the time, she thought. Besides, they weren’t truly at fault, and there was little the chief
“Who else knows about this?”
“Hathor,” Constance sighed. “Who else have you alerted?”
Saffett’s head shook again. “I assume the authorities know,” he meekly offered.
Her headache was becoming incandescent. “Thank you, Eman. You and your specialist are dismissed. Go and get some sleep.” Chief Glass took