A violent, shuddering screech ripped through the Aethelgard’s superstructure as the port magnetic sail caught the leading edge of a high-thickness sun-fire wave. Red warning klaxons pulsed across the lab inner wall, painting the steel deck in flashes of emergency crimson. The main outside monitor flickered wildly: PORT TETHER TENSION CRITICAL: 94.8% / Zero-loss COIL 4 SHORTED / MAGNETIC SHIELD DECAY IN 08:30.
“Vance!” Kira’s voice crackled through the comm-receiver with heavy static distortion. “A rogue magnetic knot snapped the port collector spar. We’re losing sail shape. If that zero-pushback line melts through the housing, the entire port wing will tear away. We’ll enter an unrecoverable heat tumble straight into the chromosphere!”
“I see the tracking data, Kira,” Arthur answered calmly, already pulling on the high-pressure quartz dust sleeves of his heavy padded EVA void-rig. “Don’t dump the magnetic charge bank. Keep the starboard trim locked at thirty-two degrees. I’m going out onto the narrow high walkway to splice the channel.”
Beside him, Grimm right away scrambled to his feet. The massive hound shook his broad head, his claws digging deep gouges into the non-slip deck rubber. He thrust his cold, black nose hard against Arthur’s hip, his throat rumbling with a protective growl that shook directly through Arthur’s pelvic bones. Grimm knew that suit. He knew the pungent smell of high-pressure empty pocket seals and cold ozone meant extreme outside danger. The hound’s cropped left ear was pinned tight against his skull, his amber eyes wide with urgent focus.
