Alley. Cartridge. Click. You and Okonkwo do not make speeches. The yellow number sags, then drops. The sweetness leaves your tongue. Thoughts arrive in shoes again.

“Emergency loop still holding,” Okonkwo says. “Lithium hydroxide is not a magic brick. It is a chemical that grabs CO2 so your blood does not. You spent minutes being legendary. Batteries spent them with you. Go do computers like a person who plans to stay conscious.”

Back on the bridge the panels are still mostly asleep. Mira’s eyes are clearer. “Good. I can dislike your delay and like your recovery at the same time. Main bus next. Not cameras. Not the engine. The storm is still raining fake stars on the chips.”

Jax has the one-at-a-time sticker mirrored on a sticky note. “KILO wants a polite gulp, not a soda-fountain chug.”

The star-tracker guard winks in the emergency light. It would be so nice to see. Seeing is how humans vote. The ship is not a democracy.