"Open the outer door now ... we're almost there," Jon commanded, watching his controls intently. "We're going ... so fast ... won't have ... much time."
"You're sure ... sender'll keep ... correct orbit?"
"Sure," Jon's voice was confident. "If we don't dump ... exactly on zero ... it'll just change shape ... of orbit a little ... that's all."
"Door open," Jak reported a moment later.
"Lift sender, but don't eject yet."
"Right."
More minutes while the heat increased, and even through that tiny aperture and the covering shields, the blinding light was coming in so fiercely Jon was tempted to close it entirely. Then, with a snort of disgust at his stupidity, he did close it—and breathed a sigh of relief as that piercing beam died. He didn't need to see. There was no reason to look. Even if there was, it was too late now to do anything about it. If his calculations were correct, the ship would get away safely. If his figures were wrong ... he shuddered. Well, they'd never know it, that was for sure.
He made himself forget that dire possibility and kept his eyes glued to his indicators.
"Almost there."
"Ready." Jak tensed his hand and fingers above the controls. He hoped he could do it when the time came. But this awful heat ... this horrible acceleration pressure....