Yesterday’s events had turned out well, despite the few minutes of terror. All of Atwell’s crew had been picked up by the shuttle. There were a lot of bumps and bruises, a lot of damaged suits — masks especially — and a lot of rattled nerves. But everyone had made it back to the Borealis in good order, and had been patched up by Singh in time to watch the damaged cylinder ship’s final moments, as it drove itself without hesitation into the churning inferno of the system’s bluish-white sun. Afterwards, Cho had departed with his own team, down to the surface of Planet Seven. The life there, while different from anything they’d seen before, was compatible enough to be used in the ship’s organic fabricator for food and — said a very proud Sap — even for some simple medications. According to the scanners, some of the plant life was sufficiently compatible to be safely eaten as food, without processing. The black leaves of the foliage must have been off-putting, because there hadn’t yet been any volunteers. Dillon expected it was only a matter of time before someone in the junior mess made a big enough wager to motivate someone to try.
