slippedhalo
author, medium, witch
- Joined
- May 11, 2006
- Posts
- 16,007
Unplanned Detour
"Mayday,mayday,Mayday. This is the European Space Administration: Explorer Ship "Hawking" requesting assistance. We're five hundred forty two light years beyond the outer threshold of the Milky Way to Darivitus Galaxies' Wormhole. We're outside explored territory by well over five hundred light years and the trip has caused damage to the Hawking. We have seventy dead and all surviving crew, just seven of us, have some injuries. We've sustained life threatening damages and will lose life support within thirty two hours. I have detected an oxygen rich environment on a planet which will take us sixteen hours to crawl to. If we survive the landing with damaged landing equipment, that is where we can be found...I'm sending video and coordinates with this message. Please, somebody, anybody...we need help! Captain Lucille McRae out."
Lucy programmed the message to send on all frequencies on a repeating loop. As long as the ship's communications box was in power it would continue and that box was damn near indestructible...She wished the rest of her once beautiful, now broken, ship had been built as well as these valuable bridge systems, it appeared, the only area of the ship with minimal damage.
That wormhole somehow took them waaaay further than it was supposed to and it had shaken the ship like an infant with a rattle in the process. In all honesty, Lucy was amazed any of them were left alive at all.
As she set the destination to reaching the small earth like planet mentioned in the distress call, she could hear triage setting up just behind the command station, in the empty floor space where a weapons control system had once been but irreparably damaged debris had been removed from the room and replaced with the things needed to live. The bridge had been gutted, space repurposed, as it had become clear to the seven left alive that this was the only place left liveable for them. They would soon work on sealing the main exit and separating the bridge section, in essence, a huge octagonal chamber, from the dead weight of the rest of the ship, to ensure they'd be able to make it to tiny world before running out of heat, air, atmosphere...
Lucy watched the screen showing the crumpled, burned remains of her once beautiful ship as they left it behind, the future unknown for the survivors stuck flying a cramped, little octagon as fast as it can make it, toward an unknown fate on an unknown world.
Lucy fixed her blue eyes on her transformed shanty town of a bridge and suppressed tears. "Chins up, guys. We'll survive. We're survivors. We'll get through this, somehow.", her mixed Scottish-Welsh accent flavouring her words even more with the weariness of the past two day's events worn heavy upon her like a leaden mantel.
"Mayday,mayday,Mayday. This is the European Space Administration: Explorer Ship "Hawking" requesting assistance. We're five hundred forty two light years beyond the outer threshold of the Milky Way to Darivitus Galaxies' Wormhole. We're outside explored territory by well over five hundred light years and the trip has caused damage to the Hawking. We have seventy dead and all surviving crew, just seven of us, have some injuries. We've sustained life threatening damages and will lose life support within thirty two hours. I have detected an oxygen rich environment on a planet which will take us sixteen hours to crawl to. If we survive the landing with damaged landing equipment, that is where we can be found...I'm sending video and coordinates with this message. Please, somebody, anybody...we need help! Captain Lucille McRae out."
Lucy programmed the message to send on all frequencies on a repeating loop. As long as the ship's communications box was in power it would continue and that box was damn near indestructible...She wished the rest of her once beautiful, now broken, ship had been built as well as these valuable bridge systems, it appeared, the only area of the ship with minimal damage.
That wormhole somehow took them waaaay further than it was supposed to and it had shaken the ship like an infant with a rattle in the process. In all honesty, Lucy was amazed any of them were left alive at all.
As she set the destination to reaching the small earth like planet mentioned in the distress call, she could hear triage setting up just behind the command station, in the empty floor space where a weapons control system had once been but irreparably damaged debris had been removed from the room and replaced with the things needed to live. The bridge had been gutted, space repurposed, as it had become clear to the seven left alive that this was the only place left liveable for them. They would soon work on sealing the main exit and separating the bridge section, in essence, a huge octagonal chamber, from the dead weight of the rest of the ship, to ensure they'd be able to make it to tiny world before running out of heat, air, atmosphere...
Lucy watched the screen showing the crumpled, burned remains of her once beautiful ship as they left it behind, the future unknown for the survivors stuck flying a cramped, little octagon as fast as it can make it, toward an unknown fate on an unknown world.
Lucy fixed her blue eyes on her transformed shanty town of a bridge and suppressed tears. "Chins up, guys. We'll survive. We're survivors. We'll get through this, somehow.", her mixed Scottish-Welsh accent flavouring her words even more with the weariness of the past two day's events worn heavy upon her like a leaden mantel.
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