It wasnâ€™t entirely unusual for NG to forget things. She was busy. Research, if one was to ask her. Sheâ€™d spent the majority of her time in the disconnected cockpit reading. Varley had commented a few times on how little she was getting done, although she certainly wasnâ€™t shirking any of her responsibilities. Then again, the only things heâ€™d ever had to say to her were negative or insulting. NG didnâ€™t mind too much, deciding he was probably jealous, though of what she wasnâ€™t sure.<br/><br/>Today she was once again perched somewhere out of the way, this time on a short stack of crates, reading. It wasnâ€™t quiet, but it was at least a little more private than her bunk. Varley didnâ€™t like that either, even if the rest of the main shift generally ignored her. And he wasnâ€™t in the hangar too often anyway, especially since the repairs to the mechs were complete or nearly so. NG wasnâ€™t much use on the large scale repairs needed for the shipâ€™s hull herself, so her workload was slowly petering out.<br/><br/>â€œWhatâ€™s the book?â€ One curious woman had asked her, but NG only shrugged and told her to get back to work. There probably werenâ€™t very many leather bound books onboard, and it wasnâ€™t only one person who showed interest in it.<br/><br/>One query too many led her to get up and try to find somewhere with a little more peace, and she remembered telling the prisoner that sheâ€™d be back. Not to mention, it was doubtless much quieter down there.<br/><br/>She trekked down to the brig with the Bible under her arm. NG knew better than to bring any of the other personal effects sheâ€™d found. No point in it since she wasnâ€™t allowed to give any of it back anyway. But a book was different, and she had questions about some of the more impossible things in it. Like, first and foremost, how could it be the truth and not some fantastical story?