He turned his beaming look to meet her gaze. “Is it a bit toasty in here?”
She couldn’t help but smile back.
While Puck tried to get Mesa to give him a high five, Jackin crossed over to give Cavalon an exuberant handshake. Griffith gripped the side of Adequin’s arm and peered down at her. Inside his visor, sweat dripped down his forehead, wrinkles deeper than when they’d arrived. He was fading fast.
“Quite a thing, Mo’acair,” he said.
“Still think space nature is bullshit?”
“Bullshit can still be awesome.”
She laughed, and he wrapped his arms around her.
“Oh, man,” Cavalon said with a breathy chuckle, rubbing his hands together and seeming quite pleased with himself. “If we could recreate this tech, stick it on a ship? Feed a jump drive? Holy shit. You could have unlimited jumps.”
“Shit, yeah…” Jackin agreed, turning back to gape at their mini-star.
“Well, the power source is certainly on,” Puck said. “But what about the station?”
Mesa crossed over to the terminal and tapped on the screen for a few seconds.
Jackin grabbed the atlas and walked over to the doorway that led back out into the main structure, then returned moments later. “Nothin’ new happenin’ out there.”
“Reactor stability is excellent,” Mesa announced. “Energy levels are at optimal output.” She slid through a few more menus, then pointed over her shoulder. “That appears to be the control switch for station activation.”
“This?” Puck asked. He stood across the room near a terminal set in the opposite wall, which lacked any kind of screen or visible control system. At chest height sat an angled glass panel with a half-cylindrical slot recessed into the face.
Mesa inclined her head. “Yes, I believe so.”
“Looks like an arm slot to me,” Puck said, then laid his arm into the opening.
“Puck!” Mesa barked. Her harsh, uncharacteristically loud tone caused Adequin’s heart to skip a beat.
Puck waved Mesa off as the face of the machine glowed white, then buzzed, enclosing his arm in a cylindrical sleeve of metal. Moments later it gave a negative beep, then the sheath reopened as the light faded away.
“Huh…” He rubbed his forearm. “I don’t think anything happened.”
Mesa stormed across the room and pulled him away with a sharp, annoyed grimace. “Please do not stick your appendages into things when you do not know what they do.”
Puck’s cheeks flushed, though his lips pulled up into a small grin. “Sorry.”
“You are lucky that did not kill you,” she snapped. “With your imitative Sentinel Imprints, who knows what kind of reaction that machine could have had?”
Cavalon nodded, staring at the churning ball of hydrogen. “Volatile interfacing.”
Mesa looked back to Puck. “It probably could not sense them through your suit. But do not do that again.”
Puck nodded, though he still seemed more amused, or even pleased, than remorseful.
“Wait, Mes,” Adequin said. “You know how this thing works?”
“Yes,” Mesa said brusquely, still reeling with irritation at Puck. “It is an interface method for complex industrial structures, network systems management, large-scale database searching, et cetera.” She swept a disdainful look over the apparatus. “This appears to be a somewhat crude version, likely one of the earliest iterations of the technology.”
“And it does what, exactly?” Adequin asked.