His tone was very relaxed.
Nora Camp nodded gloomily, "I just read the Scientific Executive Council's analysis report, and the possibility you mentioned is over fifty percent."
Harrison Clark turned his head, his gaze passing through the transparent cover of the two-layer treatment cabin, falling on her profile, his heart thudding, and he secretly thought it was bad.
She had kept her back to him just before, not letting him see her full face, but now that he saw her profile, he found something was wrong.
An hour ago, she was radiant, with bright eyes and a determined gaze, exuding a strong self-confidence befitting a high-ranking decision-maker.
In just an hour, her cheekbones had become more prominent, and her eye sockets had sunk.
Most importantly, her eyes had lost their previous sharpness.
"How's Martha Owen over there? Just now, I saw the Research Center's space station getting really close, already entering the enemy ship's firing range."
