The Afterthought was a few hundreds of yards from the energy anomaly and closing fast.
She's going to fly my ship straight into it, Daniel thought.
He didn't know what the maelstrom was, but he did know Jeska wasn't the kill-herself-type. He guessed the energy anomaly was a some sort of portal out of the facility.
... But if it's an exit, why didn't she use it years ago?
Confused and worried, Daniel watched the ship move near the collision point.
His eyescreens made an irritating beep.
He ignored it. He could guess who it was.
His eyescreens beeped again.
Daniel sighed and looked reluctantly at the “from” section of the message alert screen displayed at the bottom left of his line of sight.
He had been right: Jeska wanted to talk.
Summoning what was left of the shards of the tatters of the wreckage that was his dignity, Daniel declined the message.
Then Jeska, whose biografted mail system was much more advanced than Daniel's own, forced her way onto his eyescreens.
“You always were my favorite,” Jeska said from the tiny screen.
Daniel couldn't keep himself from looking at her.
Her eyes were red, her face was dirty, and her hair was burned. And the fact that those imperfections somehow made her look even better made Daniel feel even worse.
Unable to express his pain eloquently, Daniel said simply, “You suck.”
“I know,” she said sadly, without hesitating. “And, again… I’m sorry.”
Her image disappeared when the bow of the Afterthought hit the energy anomaly.
Unsure of what would happen next, Daniel braced himself and watched the impact.