The Aftermath
Lined up clumsily across the wall, the pistons pumped away like clockwork. The covering had been either blown away or melted by the various weapons the Rogues had used in the assault. Steam hissed out of the pipes here and there. This ship wasn’t going anywhere soon. Hanson paced the corridor, making a list of the damages. Only the ones that were affecting the ships lack of movement were noted, the rest could wait. For now, the only thing that mattered was getting him and his crew back to safety. Stopping by a window, Hanson observed the galaxy and the stars. Only a god could tell where they were from that view. Or someone who knew far too much about interstellar constellations. Lucky for him, he had one of those on board. Or at least had done before the attack. Helan still hadn’t returned with the injury report yet. Hanson turned back to the task at hand – the sooner this was done the better; rogue space was never safe.Pulling back a hatch on the roof revealed a set of wires and pipes. One of the wires was snapped; a blue one. The rest were fine. What was the blue one for? It was the main power supply for the cryo room. That was non-essential for now. The hatch was pushed back into place. Taking the next turn left, Hanson swiped his hand across a door panel – to no avail. Grabbing the manual handle he had requested himself incase of partial power failure, he wrenched the heavy door open. There was a woman on this corridor – blonde hair, brown eyes. Karen? Yes, definitely. He walked in her direction, noting the loss of power to sector 6E. When he was closer, he told her to round everyone up, and meet on the command deck. She nodded and moved away. Hanson took the stairs through an open doorway on the right, and went straight ahead at the top. He had arrived at the command deck. The room was surrounded by windows on the front, left and right. Then the stairs at the back. Helan stood in the center, apparently waiting. Hanson walked over to Helan, ready for the bad news. 96% of the crew was dead or dying; there were 15 people alive at the most. On the brighter side, there were also 453 dead Rogues. That’s one hell of a body count. Hanson asked if there were any navigators alive, and felt like a deflating balloon when Helan told him that all navigators, pilots, and engineers were dead. Hanson shook his head. It wasn’t right. Nor was it fair. They had just come out of nowhere – as if they had materialized immediately next to us. Helan was still talking, but Hanson stopped listening a while ago. So many innocent people. So many that weren’t even bothered. So many dead.
Hanson gazed over Helan’s right shoulder, out of the window behind her. A grey mass seemed to be getting bigger… Is that blood on the side of it? ‘Get down! – Grab something!’ Hanson screamed at Helan. She raised an eyebrow as if he was insane. The ships collided, and Hanson was sent sprawling across the floor – and then a crack appeared in the corner of the window next to him. Expanding, snapping, growing, breaking. The glass shattered noiselessly, and Hanson was flung through where it was a second ago, out into eternal nothingness.
Things were calmer there, the two ships were touching seamlessly – both battered to hell, but they seemed at peace from here, in the silence. The second rogue ship had penetrated a whole front quarter of the ship – only just missing the command deck by inches. Helan still hung onto a terminal, but it was hopeless – the whole ship would be quite devoid of air now. The edges of Hanson’s vision started to dim, he could feel crucial parts of his body shut off, one by one. And then there was just black.
Hanson jerked out of bed panting.
Comment.
