Tori’s scalp hurt from all the times she’d tugged on her hair as she watched Gabe crossing to the other ship.

She’d been nervous watching Brian, but the crossing had gone so quickly, she hadn’t gotten properly terrified.

Now, with Gabe moving slower than a deep scrubber in a hallway that hadn’t been cleaned in months, she tugged at her hair, gnawed at her lower lip, and tried to ignore the growing nausea in her gut.

None of that would help Gabe at all if he got into trouble.

Brian, of all people, would be the most help in case of disaster, she suspected. His gentle coaching from the other side seemed to be more helpful than her own suggestions even now.

Tori felt surprisingly useless. She compulsively monitored heart rates and air levels.

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