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Once they reached the transport pod and were safely off the planet and hopefully hidden in the Oort cloud from any searching ships, some members of the party were able to relax a tiny bit. Some people. Not Stark. There wasn’t room to pace so Stark was once again huddled in a corner, occasionally talking to himself, and twisting his hands together when he wasn’t nervously tugging at the buckle at his neck.
“Any luck getting Pilot on the phone?” Crichton asked.
“No response. Same as the last time you asked,” Jothee said, rolling his eyes. “We’re on a transport pod. You’d notice if we were getting a transmission!”
( Were things really any better after escaping the cell? )
[NFB for distance. NFI for still being somewhere extremely unsafe without a phone even if the saddest alien’s life sucks marginally less at this particular moment. Adapted from “The Beginning of the End of the Beginning: Yes, That’s Our Baby.”]
“Any luck getting Pilot on the phone?” Crichton asked.
“No response. Same as the last time you asked,” Jothee said, rolling his eyes. “We’re on a transport pod. You’d notice if we were getting a transmission!”
( Were things really any better after escaping the cell? )
[NFB for distance. NFI for still being somewhere extremely unsafe without a phone even if the saddest alien’s life sucks marginally less at this particular moment. Adapted from “The Beginning of the End of the Beginning: Yes, That’s Our Baby.”]