Second contact She was alone again, and that was alright; although being alone in her house, with its beautifully manicured garden, was a different thing to operating a basket-case spaceship with a crew of two corpses. There was a further leak, and this threw the ship into a shimmy-shake and slow toptail rotation. Ange tweaked and toyed and adjusted her attitudinals to cancel this new irregular trajectory, but doing this shook free further jinks in the system. Breathing air flooded into the void in a swarm of crystals. For one heart-bumping moment Ange thought she wasn’t going to be able to seal off the delinquent pipe from the main supply, and she entertained crazy ideas of having to suit up, go out and stuff rags or something in the hole. But then she was able to seal the vent, and only a few days breathable air lost. She wondered if she ought to keep a tally of unlucks; but that felt like itself an unlucky thing to do. The tossed coin may keep coming up tails, but the coin itself doesn’t know that.
