Ann went loose, letting her body twist in the wind. All she did was keep her hands tight on the rail. What was once a tempest, throwing her about became something else, something wild, but with a guiding force to it. She knew—but didn’t know how she knew—where the wind would go, and moved her body and the sail before the wind did. The sail's telltale sensors still screamed at her as they only went blue for an instant.
“Clear telltale sensor readings from HUD,” she said into her suit.
“Ann, your vitals are improving. Wait, what are you doing? With the Hud” Lita asked.
“Doc,” Kimball cut in, “Let her concentrate.”
“The XO is right, Doctor,” Flynn said. “We’re here if she needs us.
The sensors wiped from the HUD. All that remained were her vitals and the relative position between her and Calypso.
As the information stopped flooding into her, she felt calmer, and better able to anticipate the wind.
“Turn off HUD.”
Her helmet was now completely dark, not even the green light that signaled an open comm remained. She closed her eyes, shut out the sound of her own breathing, and let her body move on its own. The aches disappeared as she guided the sail. The board under her feet came into play, now, and she coordinated the board with the sail. She had no idea what her heading was, what her relation to the ship, but it didn’t matter. The wind still tossed her, but still treated her rough, but it was welcome, a lover’s roughness.
She soared, not knowing how much time passed until a message flashed on her display and a friendly voice warned, “Oxygen level at ten percent.”
How much longer can I stay out? How many minutes—
When she thought, the wind jerked her again, and she knew, it was over.
“Kimball, reel me in.”