A dull grinding
crunch resounded upon the processed atmosphere, the sounds of punished metal
preceding stern ripples that ran outward across the entire superstructure from the impact
points. People were thrown to the floor
or venomously dashed against the bulkheads, the gravity unable to cope with
such ferocity.
The
lighting of the corridor flickered and dimmed.
The loss of illumination was immediately replaced by scintillating
bursts that wrenched open access panels and cast scorched circuits and jagged
shrapnel out across the passage, injuring several passers-by with their searing
kiss. Small but extremely fierce blazes
flourished in the open chambers, blackening the sources of their birth and
sending forth columns of acrid smoke.
Extinguishers
were grabbed with practised haste and their hissing cones of white fog
channelled onto the fires, starving and slaying them before they spread to
wreak more mayhem.
Laure
released the vertical ventilation pipe that had kept her upright as the tremor
slipped past and she began to stagger down the corridor. A blue tinted haze was hovering with the
cloying stink that stung her nostrils, the odour spiced with flavours from
extinguishers and ozone.
Ruptured
panels allowed great bundles of wire and cable to spill forth, festooning the
corridor with a mire that had to be constantly evaded
to prevent entanglement. A wave of faint
quivers trickled through her feet, the shudder prevalent even through the
sturdy soles of her combat boots. Her baggy overalls were smeared with stains
from oil, ripped from brushes with her patients and scorched from the odd blaze
that had arisen as she toiled. Scarcely
any of the cold grey that marked her as an Imperial engineer remained, even her
rank and insignia had been lost during the last few hours of hell.
Catching
a fleeting glimpse through a view port, she spied the pernicious conflict
raging about the carrier. Swarms of
fighters ripped through the eternal void, spitting streams of ardent energy as
missiles rode a white halo of tail fire and doggedly pursued their allotted
target.
The
wink of fire and cluster of molten fragments that marked the demise of a craft
was a brief gravestone. The vacuum
smothered the broiling fireball as it greedily guzzled the unleashed reservoir
of fuel and air and then hid away the mangled chunks of debris in the vast
fields of perpetual shadow.
The
two neighbouring carriers, the ‘Hercules’ and ‘Churchill’, hung dead in space,
tilting forward on the dregs of their momentum, their rectangular hulls
dribbling trails of gas and fire from the inflicted wounds.
Four
renegade Destroyers were cruising past, hurling devastating broadsides into the
stranded Imperial ships, their turrets and missile bays never ceasing in the
harrying of the enervated titans.
She
could not afford to watch how the battle was going. She had work to do and could not allow
herself to be distracted.
Lurching
back under another jolt, Laure regained her balance and charged onward, weaving
aside as a med crew sprinted past, two badly burned crewmen on stretchers,
their skin split and blistered by the caress of a plasmic
discharge.
Spotting
the corridor that was her destination, she veered into
the slim alley and dropped to her knees before the main terminal. Her fingers danced across the projected
buttons, the holographic keyboard changing configuration as she searched
through the various operational systems, dredging out the information she
needed.
Locating
the diagnostic cycle, she initiated and held to the terminal as further quakes
rolled past. The moments of hesitation
on the computers behalf were only to be expected considering the demands placed
upon it, but they were still infuriating, causing Laure to slam her fist onto
the screen and curse the delay. As if in
fearful response to this act of battery, the computer unveiled the source of
the problem, the intricate blueprint being interpreted in a split second.
Jerking
herself aside, she searched out the hatch, dove forward and ripped away the
conduit access point. A cluster of
optical cables had been scorched by overloads and the break in communication
was promising a power spike in the engine core, one that would most assuredly
result in a cascade failure of all seven reactors. She acted without thought,
her long years of learning and experience allowing her to run as though on
automatic with a skill and speed few could muster. Possessed by her training, she began to
by-pass, re-route or repair the crippled systems.
The
winding lines lit up from within as the flow of data trickled back down their
coils, averting disaster. Wiping the
beads of sweat from her brow, Laure sighed at the close timing and grabbed an
overhead ladder rung to aid in hauling her weary frame upwards. She had prevented the ship being incinerated,
but her work was far from over; a hundred other wounds needed her tending care.
The
battle had been raging now for two hours, ever since the Imperial strike fleet
had detected Drone warships near the Neiron
cluster. The congregation of renegade
ships and the sheer numbers involved drove the Imperial forces into immediate
attack, for even though they were outnumbered, they were still sure of their
victory. The size of the fleet had to
comprise almost all of the Drone armada; by crushing it, the civil war could be
won in a single battle, making heroes of all who had performed in it.
The
Imperial forces had ploughed into the strike, resulting in an all-out
confrontation with the bulk of the Drone fleet.
It was a desperate act, but they could not even tolerate the notion that
mere Drones could defeat the Imperial legions.
The dazzling thought of medals and honours from victory blinded them to
the fact that they were outmatched and terribly outnumbered.
She
and her crews had been working frantically for the eight hours preceding the
attack, readying the cruiser for the rigours of combat, and since the
commencement of battle, they had been called upon to exert themselves beyond
all human tolerance in order to keep the various ship functions operational. Even a slight failure could result in the
loss of the entire crew, the most minute fluctuation a
sentence of death on them all.
A
savage jerk threw her back, her arms being wrenched as she held on
instinctively for support. The view of
the metal panes suddenly zoomed forward as she was cast back and slapped to the
wall, the impact driving the wind from her lungs. The oscillating waves of motion continued to
tear at her hold, her fingers slipping from the metal rod until she was set
loose and onto the mercy of the tumbling corridor.