Dark Space

[Carol]

Dr. Aris
​

"I have to read it first, commander," Aris responded, ignoring Sevchanko's outburst with the datastick. It was clear he didn't like what was in it and his face had darkened with each passing second -- covering panic with false authority. Typical for a man faced with challenge. Still, she was but a lieutenant with orders.

Aris moved quickly to crack open the mystery with the gathered data. "Perhaps it'll tell us this is Alpha Centauri," she joked, more to herself and assistant than everyone else in the room.

 

[Another Amoeba]

"Doctor Stone. It is...it is certainly a shame what happened. But I trust we are still in capable hands."

He nodded to the ascendant captain, but then to the other officers around. Gently, he padded Stone's shoulder.

"Yourself included. We are fortunate to have a dedicated security team, especially for an elder like me."

He let out a soft laugh and smiled.

Click to shrink...

"Thank you, doctor," Charles slid the pistol's barrel into the slide, and began pressing various springs into place. His expression took on a more thoughtful and reserved affect, as it usually did when he conversed with another academic. One who hadn't been summarily tossed into a war zone, at least.

"I understand the Nostra's expedition has run into difficulties and the crew needs to make external repairs. I was hoping to advise, considering my expertise. Perhaps you'd care to join me to keep an eye on their mental state." It didn't take a psychologist to know tensions were running high. A disaster now could send morale into a death spiral.

The lieutenant locked the slide into place, and gave the gun a few experimental racks before reinserting the magazine. "I have to admit, my inner scientist is practically demanding a look at their data," Charles hadn't had many chances to indulge it since the start of the insurgency, and there was always the chance Dr. Aris missed something in her overview. They came from different fields of study, after all. He

He was especially interested in that unintentional flash bulb effect the flight crew had pulled off when they pushed the engine to full throttle, though he coldly reminded himself that the tactic had been developed to image color-altering ambush predators waiting for some unlucky fool to wander too far away from the streetlight to see them coming.

 

[Noco]

Dr. Fawwaz Dinabi​

Doctor Dinabi nodded, his eyes turning from the pistol to Stone. He saw a young man well beyond his years, recalling now his peculiar file. Son of adventurers, an explorer of much of Old Earth's dangerous sites. Dinabi was a man grown during the Resource Wars, seeing the horror it carved into his homeland, but not even he would have dared step into the places Stpne had. The Mexico City Exclusion Zone was excluded for a reason, one best left alone.

"Of course, the rigors on our engineers and navigators are beyond what I can fathom. I am more than willing to provide, shall we say moral support for their efforts."

He thought on those people, their names floating through his head. Zoric, Hartman, the two heads, again fairly young. The former, Dinabi thought, had always seemed peculiar, in a remarkable way. Zoric's mind, from what Dinabi could tell, was destined for the mold of an engineer, processing and mechanical. But not to the point of social disconnection; Zoric was regarded as genial, fit for leadership. He was an excellent selection for his post, with a full recommendation

Hartman, on the other hand, provided little in the way of a read. She was stoic, tight-lipped, emerging from the American Navy as an expert in piloting. Hartman seemed capable, but her lack of definable sociability was one nagging concern Dinabi had during her screening. Remember, Dinabi had said, that these people will operate under conditions unknown to the human condition. That was to say, Dinabi bore no ill-will to the woman, but unknown variables promised complications. But, Hartman had serious connections with the Inter-Mars community and again, her expertise was unquestionable, and so her selection was guaranteed with or without the full clear by Dinabi.

"Shall we make our way there now?" Dinabi asked, shaking himself from his recollection.

 

[KnightDisciple]

As the doctor laboured, the engineers reported progress at the hatch to the main lift. Zoric had nearly circumvented the blast door, able to use the narrow maintenance hatchway to gain access to the lift. All that stood in his way was a hatch-door which would no doubt be far easier to slice through than the main blast door, but some time would be needed with the more generous estimates being an hour.

Click to shrink...

"Sohn einer erkrankten weiblichen Kuh!"

Lieutenant Zoric's cursing echoed around him in the largely-empty area surrounding the lift hatch. He had the over-sized wrench secured on an emergency release bolt, designed to allow them access without completely cutting through the door. But his engineer's physique was preventing him from getting the best leverage on it.

"Juarez, come here. Yes, good. Now, if you get there, and I get here, we can perhaps begin turning this gestrahlt thing and get the blutig door opening!"

They moved as one, grunting and panting a bit as they tried to open the door.

'Don't think about the Commander right now. Just do your job. People need you to do your job, not dwell on the tyrant-in-the-making who's in charge now.'

 

[BlackBishop]

With some concentrated effort, the engineering team managed to pry open the hatchway door, pulling it open with an objecting whine from the hydraulics. A rush of air blew out into zero atmosphere beyond before a rear hatch slid closed behind them to ensure the oxygen on the flight deck didn't get sucked out into the immense lift shaft.

Zoric squeezed through the opening first, turning around to pull Juarez through next, and finally Longwell. It was no doubt a relief to the men to be free of the tight confines of the hatchway. Their respirators clicked and hissed as they took stock of their surroundings.

As Zoric and Juarez turned their attention to the lift blast door, attempting to open it from the outside, Longwell stood over the empty shaft, peering into the darkness below. The shaft below disappeared into a great expanse of darkness, only the soft florescence of tracking lights giving any clue that the shaft was there at all. The security officer pointed his flashlight into the abyss, only to have the golden shaft of light be swallowed up by the dark. Perhaps it was a mere trick of the eye, but Longwell thought he caught sight of movement in the foreboding shadows below.

Juarez cursed, prying Longwell's attention from the shaft. The engineers discovered the problem. The door had been tampered with. The junction box panel was removed and a mess of wires were pulled out in what appeared to be an attempt to open the door. Fail-safes activated instead, and sealed the door shut. Given the mess of wires, it was deduced it would be at least several hours to right the wiring and make the door functional again. As if that wasn't inconvenience enough, attempts to convey a sitrep to the bridge was met with silence, the short range comms of their PDAs rendered useless on the other side of the admantium blast door.

Juarez looked questioningly at the chief engineer, a wary eye cast down the great pit that was before them. Without words, the junior engineer begged the question - Do they proceed down the shaft, drifting down in zero gravity into the darkness, or head back to the safety of the flight deck?

 

[Dadarian]

Meanwhile the Doctor looks up from the body, speaking to no one in particular.

"Yup, it comes across that he popped himself off. Although the body was ... ah, desecrated following death, which occurred prior to his thawing. He died due to unparticipated and probable unwelcome suicide. Anyone got a dart? Man I need a smoke."

 

[KnightDisciple]

With some concentrated effort, the engineering team managed to pry open the hatchway door, pulling it open with an objecting whine from the hydraulics. A rush of air blew out into zero atmosphere beyond before a rear hatch slid closed behind them to ensure the oxygen on the flight deck didn't get sucked out into the immense lift shaft.

Zoric squeezed through the opening first, turning around to pull Juarez through next, and finally Longwell. It was no doubt a relief to the men to be free of the tight confines of the hatchway. Their respirators clicked and hissed as they took stock of their surroundings.

As Zoric and Juarez turned their attention to the lift blast door, attempting to open it from the outside, Longwell stood over the empty shaft, peering into the darkness below. The shaft below disappeared into a great expanse of darkness, only the soft florescence of tracking lights giving any clue that the shaft was there at all. The security officer pointed his flashlight into the abyss, only to have the golden shaft of light be swallowed up by the dark. Perhaps it was a mere trick of the eye, but Longwell thought he caught sight of movement in the foreboding shadows below.

Juarez cursed, prying Longwell's attention from the shaft. The engineers discovered the problem. The door had been tampered with. The junction box panel was removed and a mess of wires were pulled out in what appeared to be an attempt to open the door. Fail-safes activated instead, and sealed the door shut. Given the mess of wires, it was deduced it would be at least several hours to right the wiring and make the door functional again. As if that wasn't inconvenience enough, attempts to convey a sitrep to the bridge was met with silence, the short range comms of their PDAs rendered useless on the other side of the admantium blast door.

Juarez looked questioningly at the chief engineer, a wary eye cast down the great pit that was before them. Without words, the junior engineer begged the question - Do they proceed down the shaft, drifting down in zero gravity into the darkness, or head back to the safety of the flight deck?

Click to shrink...

Zoric closed his eyes and audibly counted to ten in German.

"...zehn. Right, okay. This is a significant enough item we should inform the others. Juarez, Longwell, we go back through to the flight deck and inform the others. Juarez, once we're back on-deck, go look for some spare wires. We should have boxes with tools and spare parts stashed nearby. Most of these look fine but I don't trust some of them. The Commander can make the decision about trying to fix this door or forge ahead and leave it be."

Perhaps a bit...pedantic...but he was feeling more than a bit cross right now. He sighed.

"Also, we need to see if we can find signal repeaters or...something. I don't like the idea of being completely off-comms. Plus, we may want to grab a couple more people. Many hands, light work, all that solche sachen."

 

[Another Amoeba]

Doctor Stone​

Dr. Fawwaz Dinabi​

Doctor Dinabi nodded, his eyes turning from the pistol to Stone. He saw a young man well beyond his years, recalling now his peculiar file. Son of adventurers, an explorer of much of Old Earth's dangerous sites. Dinabi was a man grown during the Resource Wars, seeing the horror it carved into his homeland, but not even he would have dared step into the places Stpne had. The Mexico City Exclusion Zone was excluded for a reason, one best left alone.

"Of course, the rigors on our engineers and navigators are beyond what I can fathom. I am more than willing to provide, shall we say moral support for their efforts."

He thought on those people, their names floating through his head. Zoric, Hartman, the two heads, again fairly young. The former, Dinabi thought, had always seemed peculiar, in a remarkable way. Zoric's mind, from what Dinabi could tell, was destined for the mold of an engineer, processing and mechanical. But not to the point of social disconnection; Zoric was regarded as genial, fit for leadership. He was an excellent selection for his post, with a full recommendation

Hartman, on the other hand, provided little in the way of a read. She was stoic, tight-lipped, emerging from the American Navy as an expert in piloting. Hartman seemed capable, but her lack of definable sociability was one nagging concern Dinabi had during her screening. Remember, Dinabi had said, that these people will operate under conditions unknown to the human condition. That was to say, Dinabi bore no ill-will to the woman, but unknown variables promised complications. But, Hartman had serious connections with the Inter-Mars community and again, her expertise was unquestionable, and so her selection was guaranteed with or without the full clear by Dinabi.

"Shall we make our way there now?" Dinabi asked, shaking himself from his recollection.

Click to shrink...

"Let's," Dr. Stone said, setting out for the corner where Dr. Aris was tabulating the data.

He introduced himself with a nod and a surely unneeded, "Dr. Dinabi and I were hoping to join you in advising the crew of the Nostra," before transferring their sensor readout onto his device. Charles respected Dr. Aris as an academic, but had a sneaking suspicion that she would wind up swallowed up in the astrophysics of it all. This was just another hazardous environment. The hows and whys had to wait, for the crew's sake.

The thing you have to remember is that no environment ever cares about you. It ticks on whether you're there or not. Arsenic doesn't hate you. Bacteria just want to reproduce. The vacuum of space takes no pleasure in leaving you a desiccated husk, and Alpha Particles never ask themselves "Who can I give cancer today?" before setting off on their merry way. Even when their creatures do lash out, it's never at you, but an aggravating, you-shaped intrusion in their personal space. This was as true in a favela as it is at ground zero.

This meant they all had their little rules, and knowing those rules was Dr. Stone's expertise. He poured over the data. What threats lurked within those statistics? What patterns? Dr. Stone keyed up Hartman on the communicator, "This is doctors Stone, Aris, and Dinabi. Be advised that we are going over your report, and will be on-station to advise you for the duration of your repairs." He spoke slowly and with no discernible emotion, like he was reciting an after-action report. The doctor didn't have much of a mind to spare to spare. He had to study. He had to bring them back.

 

[BlackBishop]

As the engineering team with their security escort squeezed through the confines of the maintenance hatchway, some of the flight crew's leading minds were pouring over the data transmitted by the beleaguered Nostra. The faces of the doctors Aris, Martinez, Stone, and Dinabi were illuminated by the soft glow of the computer terminal on the bridge, juxtaposed with the darkness that surrounded them.

Their findings were nothing short of perplexing. The Nostra's scanner, as is standard on space craft, emits a beam of neutrinos, as they are the least interactive element in the known universe and can safely pass through celestial bodies without losing much mass. The data reflected back through the particle beam of neutrinos is then compiled by the sensor array, and an image is formed from the data. Yet despite the tenacity of the neutrinos, they compiled no such image, nor data.

"The scanner must be malfunctioning," insisted Martinez, though according to the data, a beam of neutrinos was indeed released, though they seem to dissipate, or as Martinez said aloud as his eyes scanned the data... "They went nowhere."

Aboard the Nostra, the voice of Stone crackled over the comms. "This is doctors Stone, Aris, and Dinabi. Be advised that we are going over your report, and will be on-station to advise you for the duration of your repairs."

The words of Doctor Stone did little to sway the ratcheting nerves of Yivlov, however. The engineer was growing increasingly anxious as final preparations to depart the Nostra were made. It wasn't until Hartman and Yivlov were in the Nostra's airlock, adantium gilded tethers bound to their vac suits, did the engineer turn to the chief navigator.

"It seems wholly unnecessary for both of us to go, Commander," said Yivlov, his anxiety apparent in his voice. "There really is nothing much to this repair, it will merely take a few minutes. Perhaps it would be best if I man the spool here in the airlock. I can talk you through the repair easily enough." Though his face was mostly obscured by the breathing apparatus of the vac suit, the pleading eyes of the engineer were plain to see.

 

[Carol]

Dr. Aris​

The data was unbelievable. Not a single celestial body was hit by the particles, correlating with the testimony of Hartman. "If this not a mistake," Aris began slowly, "then we must be in some sort of void. The complete lack of identifiable celestial bodies supports this -- not even interstellar clouds were picked up. We must, then, be in a galactic cold spot..."

A hum emanated from her as she mused on the new discovery. No despair was felt, only the slight smirk of an explorer seeing destiny in front of them.

 

[Jeeshadow]

Hartman turned to Yivlov, pressed her helmet against his, and rested her arms on his shoulders,
"You can do it Yivlov. We have extensively trained for situations like this. All of this crew has clocked extensive EVA hours and these are simple repairs. I will be right by you the entire time. Just breathe slowly and focus on your work. We can do this."

 

[Noco]

Dr. Fawwaz Dinabi​

Doctor Dinabi likewise spoke to the Nostra, his soft voice crackling over their comms.

"You have our full faith. Remember, you were chosen over millions for this task and that trust comes from your supreme expertise. I will enjoy congratulating you once you are beside us once again."

He keyed off his comms and looked now over to Doctor Aris, seeing her subtle expressions.

"A cold spot? Forgive me, Doctor, but I do not understand. Have we been activated before reaching Alpha Centauri then?"

Such a notion would be of dire consequence to morale. Dinabi expected social cohesion to be at critical levels until the moment the new homeland for Humanity was discovered, and if that was delayed, it would only prolong the window of crisis. Especially so if this became known in fact. And Doctor Aris would be the foremost expert on such facts.

Aris was an excellent addition to the crew, a selection Dinabi had personally advocated for. Naturally her qualifications were above and beyond, but more importantly in Dinab's view were her ideological motivations. Her pioneering spirit and stalwart belief in the necessity of the mission made her exceptionally fitted for the role of Chief Science Officer, as such a figure would be vital in not only serving the stated goals of the mission, but in instilling the appropriate spirit into the department. Aris, in Dinabi's approximation, could very well be regarded with much veneration in a post-Ark civilization, a founding mother of the homeland.

Perhaps Doctor Dinabi was merely afflicted with romanticism, of the variety shared by a fellow idealist for Humanity's space-bound salvation. And perhaps too, a romanticism for his past. As a young man in Aleppo, Dinabi had fallen in love with a woman, one of the Franco-Syrians who had emerged as a notable quarter in the city. Amelie was her name, a musician by trade. She looked like Aris mused Dinabi, although he knew that he saw her through the haze of memory decades old. She was beautiful, an angel who plucked at his heart like no one had before. How sad she looked, buried under rubble and blanketed in soot after the Forty Nights Raid. Yet still so beautiful, not even the ugliness of war marring her.

Doctor Dinabi turned from his thoughts as they became painful. Now was not the time for that. Memory loss, he thought, was hardly what he was experiencing in the aftermath of cryo.

 

[Another Amoeba]

Dr. Stone
​

Charles could have done a dozen things in that moment. He could have told Dr. Aris to save the crew before pining for a Nobel. He could have pulled up the flight records and demanded to know what inane circumstances could possibly cause a shuttle to barely accelerate at full throttle in a perfect void. He could checked and double-checked every piece of data as though he hadn't seen it with his own two eyes. He could have turned the console on and off again. Or shot it. The end result would be the same.

In the end, he ensured the transmitter was off before posing a question. "Is Warrant Officer Yivlov mentally stable enough to perform this operation?"

Convince me.

 

[Carol]

Dr. Aris
​

"Maybe we did," Aris responded, perturbed not the slightest by the notion. "Or," her tone darkened, "perhaps this is the so-called promise land." Her voice shifted yet again to a more positive tone. "That is, of course, all speculation. Without any identifiable celestial bodies, I am unable to give any definitive answers to just where we are."

 

[Noco]

Dr. Fawwaz Dinabi​

Doctor Dinabi allowed Aris' ominous statements sit like a damp cloth, heavy and uncomfortable. Speculation, certainly of that nature, was not beneficial. He turned to Stone instead and spoke.

"Officer Yivlov was selected for his position for a reason, although the effect of cyro-sickness and the peculiar circumstances of our activation naturally draw into question his current abilities. I would feel more comfortable evaluating this in-person, yet naturally we are unable. Regardless of whether he is performing his operation or assisting Hartman, it is important that he operate with confidence and believes the situation is surmountable. To that end, I'd state that Yivlov would best know Yivlov; if he is resistant towards the operation, it is evidence of poor confidence."

 

[Dadarian]

Having received no answer from a very unhelpful crew, Serena begins rummaging through the late Captain's personal effects.

"I swear to god if they turned back on their promise to bring cigarettes to space....."

 

[KnightDisciple]

Chief Engineer

Lt. Zoric sighed and just closed his eyes for a moment. It was going to be a long, long, long day. He opened his eyes and turned to his subordinate.

"Juarez, go get Johnson. Then I want both of you to grab yourselves a Number 1 and Number 2 repair kit, a portable MagLantern, and a pack of chemical glowsticks. You grab me a lantern and a pack of sticks, and have Johnson grab me a 1 and 2. Then come back here and wait for me to get us moving. And um des Herrn willen, try to make sure you both have your full, regular toolbelts? I know it's a lot of stuff, but things could be bad down there, so we need to make sure all of us can handle things."

The Number 1 kit contained an assortment of small mechanical parts, fasteners, and the like, including a couple of rolls of sturdy electrical tape. Zoric was of the opinion there was never enough tape in the world.
The Number 2 was the electrical parts kit, containing wires, wire nuts, several spare fuses of varying sizes, and other such sundries.

Zoric activated his comm unit and typed up a couple of messages quickly.

@Another Amoeba

Lt. Stone

I would request that you assign 2 members of your department to my effort to get the ship running again. I would like the ability to, if necessary, leave 1 of them with the work party at the lift door while the other accompanies the rest of us further down, depending on the Commander's preferences.

-Lt. Zoric

Click to shrink...

@Carol

Dr. Aris,

I am requesting the requisition of at least 1 member of Navigation and 1 member of Science, potentially up to 3 personnel. Lt. Hartman is occupied with the Nostra so I am deferring to your position as having best authority and insight to the Navigation and/or Science personnel I can loop in. I would like extra hands who are familiar with the computer systems and have at least some insight into proper operation of our ship's power plant.

-Lt. Zoric

Click to shrink...

He then placed a comm call to the Commander, who was at least one deck away.

@Aedan777
"Commander Sevchanko, it appears the Lift door is stuck because of tampering with the wire box. I would speculate that someone was trying to 'hot wire' it to allow it to open, but that is a hypothesis, not a proven fact.

It will take us an hour or more to fix it, and even just inside the lift, we lose comm signal. I'm consulting you to determine if you wish me to proceed with moving to the engineering deck. If so, I'm going to leave a couple of people behind to work on the wires for the door, while requisitioning a couple of additional personnel to aid in making repairs.

As I said, once we're in the lift we're going to be cut off on comms so I am consulting now before we potentially go dark for hours."

He stood and waited for a response.

 

[Another Amoeba]

Dr. Stone
​

It seemed he was wrong to think Dr. Aris wanted her place in the history books. She sounded like she wanted her place in the Bible. He frowned, and shot her a glance, sidelong. This wasn't the time to be gallivanting off into the metaphysical.

Dr. Stone decided to accept they psychologist's tacit compromise. With a few quick flicks, Charles reestablished their connection with the Nostra. He made sure to keep his voice level and slow as he spoke. Dr. Dinabi might see the crack engineer handpicked for this mission, but what Charles heard was a scared kid shoved into the firing line. And something you never did was let the scared kid handle anything that might explode. "Warrant Officer Yivlov, are you confident in your ability to safely perform this operation at this time?" He doubted the crewman would surprise him.

At that moment, he felt his communicator issue an unwanted buzz. There was a message from Lieutenant Zoric. Something about an assigning escort? Annoyed, he shot off a response:

"I'm deferring this to Lieutenant Longwell."

 

[Carol]

Dr. Aris​

Zoric's message was an unneeded inconvenience and a breach of protocol. Worst of all, it disrupted Aris' thought process -- on the potential causes of the unfolding disaster. Muttering a curse, she typed back a reply.

ASK COMMANDER SEVCHANKO. IT IS HIS PREROGATIVE AS COMMANDING OFFICER.​

 

[Dadarian]

Serena was ignored for long enough as the rest of the crew did things(?). Starving, jonesin' for a dart, and rudely ignored on the diagnosis of the late Captain, Serena stood.

"I'm going to the Galley where I can have something to eat, to smoke, and to think about all this bullshit."

With a wink to Dr. Aris, she started on her way.

 

[Aedan777]

Commander Sevchanko did not have to think long for his response to his Chief Engineer.

"Lieutenant Zoric, continue on to Engineering deck. While having a functional lift would be useful and is on the agenda to be repaired, it is not a priority compared to restoring power to the whole ship. We've gone without power for as long as we've been up, and who knows how much longer before hand. We need it restored as soon as possible."

 

[BlackBishop]

"Warrant Officer Yivlov, are you confident in your ability to safely perform this operation at this time?" He doubted the crewman would surprise him.

Click to shrink...

The voice of Yivlov returned over the comms after a moment of silence. "I can do it," was his simple response, though whether this was an answer born out of confidence or the threat of emasculation one had to wonder.

Meanwhile the condition of Walker worsened as the minutes dragged on. Between fits of dry heaving, the ensign bemoaned an unbearable headache. So strife with pain that she was soon beyond words, only able to cry. Her condition, left in the hands of the most junior doctor of the flight crew, as the chief medical officer rifled through the captain's cabin for cigarettes in a fruitless search, resorted to administering a sedative to the woman, who slipped out of consciousness soon after.

The young doctor, visibly perturbed at shouldering the workload of managing the care of Walker and the affected nauseated crew, tracked down Hull-Smith in the galley of the crew quarters, giving her a most curt report, warning that if access to the medical facility in colonial cryogenics, beyond the main lift, wasn't granted soon, he feared for Walker's life.

 

[Dadarian]

The voice of Yivlov returned over the comms after a moment of silence. "I can do it," was his simple response, though whether this was an answer born out of confidence or the threat of emasculation one had to wonder.

Meanwhile the condition of Walker worsened as the minutes dragged on. Between fits of dry heaving, the ensign bemoaned an unbearable headache. So strife with pain that she was soon beyond words, only able to cry. Her condition, left in the hands of the most junior doctor of the flight crew, as the chief medical officer rifled through the captain's cabin for cigarettes in a fruitless search, resorted to administering a sedative to the woman, who slipped out of consciousness soon after.

The young doctor, visibly perturbed at shouldering the workload of managing the care of Walker and the affected nauseated crew, tracked down Hull-Smith in the galley of the crew quarters, giving her a most curt report, warning that if access to the medical facility in colonial cryogenics, beyond the main lift, wasn't granted soon, he feared for Walker's life.

Click to shrink...

Serena gave a slight sigh, civilians.

"Listen, Walker is in critical condition yes, but she's also in stable condition. She seized, which meant that she'll either bounce back thanks to the mystery which is the human regeneration or go onto a one way trip to Comaville, USA. While you act high and mighty in your obvious lack of training, I was giving you exactly what you need, first hand experience. Do you think I would ever let someone as green as you take a situation without my knowledge that it is within your control, however limited you may see it? Or are you that one type of doctor that is grossed out by a little puke and is unable to calm a crowd. But sure, be snippy with me big shoots. You did exactly the right thing in administering a sedative to calm your obviously distressed patient. Because you're not incompetent, you simply think you are.

So now you get to go find me a gurney, BY YOUR SELF, while I do the job that you were supposed to do. Hand out Gravol like a big girl to all the pukey people.

And find me a god damn cigarette."

 

[BlackBishop]

While the young Doctor Buchanen shrunk away from the tongue lashing of Hull-Smith to carry out her orders, most of the crew gathered on the bridge, enthralled by the reporting of Wallace from the Nostra, keeping the crew informed of the progress of Hartman and Yivlov as they conducted their exterior repairs of the recon ship.

With a signal from Hartman, Yivlov opened the airlock door. Before them was the extended docking tube of the Ark's emergency airlock. The typically squared compartment was tilted, listing to one side, with a gap large enough for the pair to squeeze through to the space beyond. Upon surveying the gap, and fearing what damage the adantium edges might do to their vac suits, they retreated back into the airlock, electing instead to use the upper hatchway.

Yivlov lead the way, pulling himself up through the circular hatch, his magnetic boots fastening him to the hull of the Nostra. Hartman stayed close behind.

What words the pair could utter would do little justice for just what they must have felt in that moment, meeting the embrace of the void. All around them was utter darkness, the steel plate of the hull disintegrating from vision mere meters in all directions. They soon lost all sense of direction, and if it wasn't for the tethers fastened at their backs they might have easily become lost in that nightmarish opaque.

Upon traversing that darkness, both became struck with the same phenomenon that plagued the Nostra. Their movements were slow and sluggish, and after a few steps, their bodies became bowed as if some pressure bore them down against the hull. After a few moments enduring that slow march, they came at last to the exterior airlock docking ring.

Once his work began, Yivlov almost immediately began complaining, persistent in the perception that he was being squeezed. Yet nothing to their eye could they see, aside from that all pervasive cloud of nothingness. Dutifully the engineer continued with his task, intent on getting it done fast in order to return to the safety of the Nostra.

It was in the closing minutes of the work that Yivlov was struck with such a panic as none among the trained crew had ever witnessed. The man began to shriek over the comms. In the near incoherent babble that escaped his lips, few words could be deciphered, save for the terrified insistence that something had a hold of him. Yet to the naked eye all was blackness.

Such a fright had taken the engineer that all who listened doubted even the calming demeanor of Hartman could muster what shred of bravery he still held. It would have been vain to expect such words, however, for Hartman felt it too. The sensation was not felt so imminently for her as it did for Yivlov, yet as his panic was expressed, Hartman became conscious of a more concentrated squeeze aside from the persistent pressure she felt since stepping out into the void. The magnetic boots of Hartman whined as she felt some outside force attempting to pull her from the hull of the ship, toward the blackness beyond.

"Hartman? Yivlov?" Came the tense voice of Wallace over the comms. "What's going on?!"

 

[Jeeshadow]

"Wallace, the EVA is over. Prep for our return ASAP. Yivlov is in a bad way, I will try to get him back. Get your suit ready and ensure our tethers are secure."

She then turned to Yivlov,
"Ensign, look at me! The EVA is over, we are returning to the ship. Come with me."

She extended her hand, hoping he would take it.