Ann went
loose, letting her body twist in the wind. All she did was keep her hands tight
on the rail. What was once a tempest, throwing her about became something else,
something wild, but with a guiding force to it. She knew—but didn’t know how
she knew—where the wind would go, and moved her body and the sail before the
wind did. The sail's telltale sensors still screamed at her as they only went
blue for an instant.
“Clear telltale
sensor readings from HUD,” she said into her suit.
“Ann, your
vitals are improving. Wait, what are you doing? With the Hud” Lita asked.
“Doc,”
Kimball cut in, “Let her concentrate.”
“But—”
“The XO is
right, Doctor,” Flynn said. “We’re here if she needs us.
The sensors
wiped from the HUD. All that remained were her vitals and the relative position
between her and Calypso.
“Clear
vitals.”
They
disappeared.
As the
information stopped flooding into her, she felt calmer, and better able to
anticipate the wind.
“Turn off
HUD.”
Her helmet
was now completely dark, not even the green light that signaled an open comm
remained. She closed her eyes, shut out the sound of her own breathing, and let
her body move on its own. The aches disappeared as she guided the sail. The
board under her feet came into play, now, and she coordinated the board with
the sail. She had no idea what her heading was, what her relation to the ship,
but it didn’t matter. The wind still tossed her, but still treated her rough,
but it was welcome, a lover’s roughness.
Familiar.
She soared,
not knowing how much time passed until a message flashed on her display and a
friendly voice warned, “Oxygen level at ten percent.”
How much longer can I stay out? How many
minutes—
When she thought, the wind
jerked her again, and she knew, it was over.
“Kimball,
reel me in.”