Anchorlust pt. II
It is all about frames of reference. She is moving faster than the asteroid, spinning slower. Two-hundred thousands miles per hour means nothing, when she is inching forward like this, thrust for thrust.
“You’ve been chasing that thing for an hour, come back,” tries someone in the radio room, distantly.
“Not yet.” She comes up next to it. It is spinning out of control. She just needs to reach out and grab it, and simply hold on. She steels herself, spread-eagles and then clasps it.
For a while everything spins, and then she is part of it.
She stays there.