Johnathon Desoto
United Federation of Planetary Systems
    |
Posted - 2007.10.10 09:12:00 -
[1]
This is just something i wrote to investigate what it would be like onboard a badly damaged ship, no shields or armor with a comprimised hull. Theres not really any storyline to go wtih it.
*****
Distress
The acrid smoke clung to the floors like a solid fog. The deck plating was warped and buckled, subjected to the immense stresses it was never intended to take and survive. Bulkheads were ruptured and transfer conduits spilled out a whole myriad of different gases and liquids, most of them toxic. Further ahead a massive hole in the wall showed where a hull breach had occurred, but the occasional blue discharge gave away that the hole had been sealed in an instant by emergency shields, resealing the ship in a matter of seconds, trapping whatever may be inside such as air and any materials and equipment, as well as people. Here and there bodies lay, some killed by the toxic gases, some by shrapnel, and some by means of suicide, driven mad by the constant fighting and battling. æEngage, Retreat. Engage RetreatàÆ had been their motto, their confidence gone in the deity that sat cocooned inside his egg of metal, submerged in a viscous goo that served to feed him. No soul was alive on this ship, except for the one figment of life that sat inside the aforementioned egg. There was no air, no hope. The ship looked like a piece of scrap metal, floating in the invisible solar winds.
Eventually a few lights showed, a yellow and green hue played out across the hull. The ship looked as if it was being moved backwards through time. The remnants of hybrid charges were forcibly being ejected by the forces that served to heal the broken beast. As the holes healed, the engines powered on and off, uncertain as to whether their true strength had been replenished. Again the engines powered on, and stayed on. Unsteadily, as if driven by a drunk, the ship lurched round, its engines stuttering only for a fraction as the warp-space generators kicked in, sending the ship hurtling blindly towards the nearest station, a sanctuary and refuge, a place where repairs could be conducted.
Never the first, Nor the lastà
|