Daniel briefly thought about chasing after his hijacked ship in desperate, dangerous and, above all, romantic gesture that he hoped would change Jeska's mind.
If he caught up, he could scramble to the top of a tall t-shirt towers – they were more stable than the coaster columns, he noted – and get close enough to make a jump to the ship's lower hull.
Assuming he used one of the welded-on appliances as a handhold, he could then search for a way inside, retake his ship and convince her to stay.
Failing that, he could beat his fists against the hull, screaming Jeska's name in way that would somehow win her back.
The one problem with that plan, Daniel thought, are the many, many problems with that plan.
To name a few, the ship was moving much too fast, the towers would collapse before he could climb high enough, and he probably couldn’t make the jump to the lower hull.
Even if he could leap that far, what would it matter? The biolock wouldn’t let him in. And Jeska wouldn’t release the biolock.
And she wouldn't be able to hear him beating on the hull.
Because the ship's airtight. It travels in space. Remember, genius? he thought. You're not the hero of an action virtual. Let her go. Let it all go.
He sat down on the ground.
What’s the point of anything now? he thought, his downcast face lit by the alternating flashes of green and blue in the distance.