"Dipper!" She grabs his wrist with the hand that's not supporting him. "You have to focus. After everything else we've been through, and all the stories you've told me? I know you can do this."

A monitor by the rack of control rods sparks, and the reactor starts to emit a low metallic stress groan. Pidge sucks in breath and continues.

"I mean, let's be real, you kind of have to do this. Or this planet will be poisoning passing spaceships for the next thousand years and that's before they'll be able to fish our mummified corpses out of here without melting all the equipment!"

Is that helping? Pidge is honestly not sure if that's doing anything for his concentration, but it's kind of odd that she genuinely doesn't know. She adjusts her grip around his middle.

"Just...leave the standing to me and concentrate, OK?"