“Hull temperature increasing.”
“Scoop?”
“Nominal.”
The boat shook, rattled. As the noise increased the cabin temperature seemed to rise with it, but they knew that was just their minds playing tricks.
“How’s our speed?”
“We’re right on track. Drag as expected.”
Royal watched the pressure readout slowly tick steadily upward. The ramscoop field was doing it’s job: capturing ionized gas from Jupiter’s atmosphere and funneling it into their tank. He’d done this a hundred times before. But for the noise, it would be boring.
They would be out of the atmosphere soon, with air to breathe and fuel to burn.
***
Title by: Fantastic Sugar
Story by: David
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