But the LED on its end was glowing green.
“You beautiful idiot,” she breathed.
Her co-pilot, a taciturn woman named Kao, floated by with a diagnostic probe. “Check the carbon scrubber again.”
Elara slammed her palm on the console. The words didn’t change. They never did.
The dongle was a stubby, scuffed thing, no bigger than her thumb. It had a hairline crack from when she’d dropped it three years ago, and she’d wrapped it in a strip of red tape that read . She remembered docking it into the auxiliary port last week. She remembered the satisfying click .
SIGNATURE VERIFIED. NAVIGATION ONLINE. THRUSTERS AVAILABLE.
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