Genny was in shock that she was climbing the ladder into the actual space shuttle. She’d never dreamed that she’d get to do such a thing. Ducking in through the small lock, she stood, and was immediately disappointed.
A couple of blue chairs with massive seatbelts filled much of the small space, little bigger than the bedroom of her Paris apartment; which was not saying much, especially at Parisian prices. No windows, no views. The walls were all covered in near-identical cabinet drawers. Most bore some incomprehensible label, equipment to fix things. She understood a few: tile repair kit, avionics spares, food stuffs. She tried to pull open that one, but it wouldn’t move. The curator, who had come in behind her and Peter, showed them how to release the catch to either side. Of course it
