❛ the ground. that's the dream. ❜
On the list 𝘓𝘺𝘳𝘢 𝘑𝘶𝘱𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘳'𝘴 𝘛𝘰𝘱 𝘛𝘦𝘯 𝘞𝘰𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘔𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘴 𝘖𝘧 𝘈𝘭𝘭 𝘛𝘪𝘮𝘦, getting arrested is definitely up there. But, hey! At least there's a silver lining ━━ getting shoved into a drops...
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". . . SO I'M THINKING we try to recalibrate the spokes - LJ?"
Jolting, Lyra blinks. Monty is staring at her. They're on the third floor of the dropship again, Monty a few feet beneath her as he looks up at her, surrounded by spare wristband parts. Her head aches from the force of gravity and her cheeks go pink as she realises what had happened.
She forgot she was having conversation.
"Uh, can you repeat that?"
Monty pulls a face, his watchful eyes following her as she stands precariously atop a small tower helping her reach the ceiling. "Do you think maybe you're... doing too much?"
"What makes you say that?"
"Well, currently you're reworking the wires you spent four days patching up to reconnect to the solar panels so we have light," he points out. "You've also completely covered the walls in here with logarithms for radio wavelengths."
"So - ?" Lyra starts to ask, then squeals when she almost falls. "Never mind, I'm good - also, can you plug in 0.120 m for the spacecraft wavelength? I'm pretty sure that's the Ark's frequency - oh, and for the recalibration of the wristbands, I'm thinking if I just get these wires too - "
There's a sharp crackling sound and sparks fly as Lyra tries to connect the blue wires to the panel. Shrieking, she almost drops the wires. Molten lava seems to scorch through them, burning her skin, and she practically jams them into the upper control panel before sticking her fingers into her mouth to cool them. At once, lights overhead flicker. Dim and yellowed and they make everything look sort of ugh, but it's light all the same. Electricity. There are a few cheers from the two lower levels of the dropship.
"And then Lyra Jupiter-Franko said let there be light!" She says, grinning as she makes a ta-da gesture.
Monty half sighs and half groans. "Fine, what was the wavelength for our radio?"
"Not ours, the Ark's radio wavelength frequency," she corrects him, clambering down and then nearly falling the last couple feet. She straightens up quickly. "Never mind, it's OK, I'll do it myself. See. I've got my equation written right... " she scurries over to the stretch of wall just above the hatch and searches for it among the plethora of other numbers scribbled, most sloppily crossed out. "Right here!"
