Chapter 92

Chapter Ninety-Two

In less than an hour, the galley had climbed two degrees. There were things in the cooler that Connor knew wouldn’t last the four hours he’d projected. His imagination-charged senses were already picking up the early hints of rot.

Then he caught Selen’s glare or saw Elise biting a nail and came back to the reason he was in the galley in the first place.

Overhead, a gurgling sound spilled from the vent: the recycler complaining.

He cleared his throat. “So, without the right expertise, those pipes and filters can’t be salvaged.”

Selen leaned back in her seat.

About fifteen minutes ago, she’d called him to the galley and pointed to the chair across the table from hers, then had promptly ignored Elise, who’d followed Connor into the compartment.

Now, lips losing color from being pressed too tightly together, Connor’s boss looked ready to explode. “How could this even happen?”

Connor nodded toward Elise, who was leaning against the cooler.