The excitement of the wormhole faded quickly, especially since it involved a whole bunch of number checking to see where the hell they ended up.
Emma leaned over Rafe's shoulder as he perused screens scrolling lines of gibberish. "Why is it taking so long? I thought wormholes got us from point A to point B quicker?"
"They do."
"And don't you control where you come out?"
"Usually, we would enter at a moderate speed, at a specific angle to ensure we'd exit at the correct spot, spots mapped out over eons by the travelers who've gone before us. But given someone was behaving recklessly" - Rafe patted the armrest - "we emerged slightly off course. We should know momentarily our location. We've just about matched up the star points."
The remark surprised her. "You're relying on constellations? Doesn't your superior alien collective believe in sign posts?"