It felt like both. She recognized the dense cold air of the hangar with so much relief that she almost cried out. “She’s all right,” Kale proclaimed. He put an arm around her shoulders and sat her up. “You’re all right,” he murmured just for her, and the strain in his voice made her hold on to him. “Pippin?” she asked. “He’s fine. You both went full G-LOC, but your RIO was lucky enough to engage the autopilot before he lost consciousness. He came out of it a few minutes ago. They’re walking him down to the infirmary.” She vaguely remembered trying to punch the controls—to do what Pippin had managed—but it felt like her brain wasn’t plugged in to her body. She blinked at the hangar, and the scene blinked back like a black-and-white film. “I’m still seeing gray.” “Oxygen starved. You may faint again if you stand.” Kale threw commands to the ground crew staring down at her, finishing with, “And someone get a stretcher!”
