"Come on, damn you!" the frustrated voice screamed out into the darkness. The intermediate emergency light flooded the smoldering cabin with crimson light every few seconds. Offering Em'Dama precious moments to accurately rewire the still-smoking control console. The pilot, Jerrod, damaged it with his now mangled torso when the first impact struck their small vessel. The force was so great, that it threw the unsuspecting pilot violently around the small cabin. He never stood a chance.
Em'Dama was fortunate enough to of been resting in her bunk during the start of the chaos. Though, the initial blasts that rocked their vessel were enough to dislodge her from her shoulder-high bedding. Her injuries consisted of nothing more than a sprained wrist and an aching head. Others around her were not as fortunate.
A loud clicking noise filled the cabin as more emergency lighting slowly glimmered to life. The wiring had been blown apart when a coupling overloaded. Temporarily cutting off all power and navigation to the helm. Slowly, she lodged the plastic paneling back onto its housing. Taking great care to watch her head underneath the console. A knocking on the bulkhead distracted her from the delicate procedure.
"This better be important," she mumbled to herself as she pried the metal panel off the bulkhead. Em sighed as she stuck her arm nearly shoulder-deep into the wall. Her fingers fumbled as she blindly felt around within the bulkhead.
"Gotcha."
A loud, echoing click sounded as the door slid upwards with a grinding, metallic hiss. But unfortunately, due to the extensive damage their vessel received, the hatch lifted only about waist high.
"Em? Is that you? It's Nyez. Are you alright?"
An uncontrollable cough escaped from Em as she clutched desperately onto the dented bulkhead next to her. "Yes, yes... I'll be alright. The airs just not the best in here. How's everyone doing?"
"Six dead that I know of. Though, I can't reach engineering. Is Jerrod with you? How is he doing?" Nyez called out.
"He's dead. Died on impact." Em replied sternly.
"Oh," Nyez muttered. "Well, how is the Navigation console? Are we going to be able to get out of here?"
Em clutched onto the bulkhead as she crouched down below the jammed hatch. She met Nyez's sunken, worried gaze. A blood-stained bandage was hastily wrapped around his shaven head. His once colorful, and exceptionally-vibrant tattoos that covered his bald, ivory head were now stained crimson with his dried blood.
"I'm about to get Navigation online, I hope. Thankfully, the system doesn't look too bad underneath. I need you to find out what happened to Engineering. See if they're still alive down there. If I can't restore power to the forward controls and regain control over the main systems, we're going to have to abandon ship."
Nyez nodded silently. "I understand," he muttered as he stared blankly into the darkness that surrounded them.
"Hey, Nyez. It'll be alright. Just a few more steps to go."
"Right," Nyez responded as he quickly ran down into the dark corridor. Em watched as her frightened friend ventured once again into the unknown dangers that lurked throughout their crippled vessel.
Another loud groan escaped her as she stood back up. The pain in her knee had intensified recently. Nearly two years after having her knee-cap blown off by a farmer's one-shot, antique rifle. What had started off as a routine delivery to Lehemia, ended in a life-long injury that virtually crippled her for close to a year. Even her custom BioWeave, that had cost her nearly 6,200 Bars was shredded like paper mache.
Even for all their technological advancements, her suit contained a vital flaw - metallic projectiles.
Most colonized worlds, and the majority of the galactic community had long ago adopted the standardized usage of energy based weaponry. Lehemia, unfortunately, hadn't advanced as quickly technologically as most. Which is how Em managed to become completely and ignorantly susceptible to that farmer's ancient, one-shot rifle.
Fixing the remainder of the Navigation controls was a cakewalk with the adequate lighting that now modestly illuminated the small cabin. Though the crimson emergency lighting wasn't nearly as bright as the white, fluorescent lighting she was accustomed too; it was a far better choice than complete darkness. It only took an hour for the systems to begin booting up once more.
The various screens for the ship's systems slowly finished initializing. Life Support, Tactical Systems, and the Main Battery were all running on emergency power. Unfortunately, the Communications system was still down. Em didn't know if there was anyone still alive left to fix it, anyway.
The Navigational system was the last to come online. Scrolling through the long readout, Em concluded that their array must have taken a hit during the attack. What little, uncorrupted data it was receiving was horribly out of calibration. Her only option was to input their celestial coordinates manually. Reaching above her head, Em unlocked the metal cabinets that were embedded into the bulkhead above. Inside, were piles of disorganized paper manuscripts, navigational charts, and ancient star data. Retrieving an ancient orange binder from the back, she undid it's plastic clips and studied the instructions printed inside.
After many long minutes of fiddling with the strange navigational instruments that came pre-packaged with the antique orange binder. Em was confident she had narrowed their location down to a small cluster of star systems within the Veigol Rift. A largely-unexplored region of the galaxy that's home to a disproportionately large concentration of natural, and artificial space debris. They were lucky to have landed in such an isolated section of the Rift, when their vessel was forced out of Warp.
Em tried once again to hail Engineering over their aged IC-system. And, as expected, the reply was an eerie, dead static. She feared the worst had befallen the Engineering crew. Though, luckily, the propulsion system was still emitting some minor power to the bridge. So damage must have been minimal, or so she hoped.
Glancing over towards the LED display mounted just below the Helm. Em noticed it had been nearly an hour since she had last heard from Nyez. Em hoped that he'd been to learn some answers. She decided to go and find out.
Ducking under the half suspended doorway, Em cautiously crept through the darkened, silent corridors. The dim emergency lighting was sporadic and increasingly unreliable the further she strayed from the helm. Voices were beginning to sound from up ahead as she finally walked into the chaotic Mess Hall. What little crew members remained alive were strewn about on the sturdy booths protruding from the bulkhead.
Those in more stable conditions were assisting with the more critical cases. Em counted nine survivors in various conditions, hobbling, or collapsed amongst the bloodied furniture. Nyez was still nowhere to be seen. He must have found a way into Engineering, she reassured herself. Walking through the Mess Hall reminded Em of a post-battle aid station. Groans, bloodied bandages, and the overwhelming smell of pungent death filled the air.
The six crew members that Nyez had referred to earlier were neatly stacked in the corner. A thick, black sheet was draped over each of them. Their jumpsuit patches were laid out atop the booth to their right.
J. Kelman
M. Schultz
A. Stap
K. Ymsu
P. Lani
G. Thompson
Em wasn't particularly close to any of the dead. Though, their passing still stung deeply. She had served with many of them for over two years now. Meeting their families, celebrating their birthdays on long hauls, and even bleed alongside some of them. And now, in a blink of an eye, they're gone - just like that. Their deaths couldn't be in vain, she wouldn't let them be. It was up to her now to get the remainder of her crew back to Haelonia, alive and safe. Anything less would be a complete failure.
Kira was sitting alone at the booth next to the aft exit. Her right arm was crudely wrapped in a make-shift sling torn from someone's jumpsuit sleeve. Em hesitantly approached, still unsure of her feelings after their altercation the night before. Celtar Snow Wine doesn't mix well with drunken matches of simulated war-games. Kira was a sore loser, and Em was a boastful winner. And both had short fuses.
"Hey," Em said sheepishly as she sat across from her bloodied friend.
"Hey," Kira mumbled, defeatedly.
A frown spread across Em's face. "How are you doing? Is your arm badly hurt?"
Kira shook her head. "Megis said it was only a fracture, and taught me how to put a stint on it. Before...before he died, I mean."
Em gently put her hand on her friend's shoulder. Kira was now weeping silently into the collar of her green jumpsuit. There was nothing Em could do for her. Everyone was hurting right now. They had all lost friends during the attack.
"Have you seen Nyez? I sent him to Engineering nearly an hour ago."
"No, sorry, I haven't seen him. I haven't really been in here that long. Maybe thirty minutes at most. Tajmire was the first in here after the explosion, I think."
"Thanks, Kira. I'll go and see him. And stay strong, alright? You're doing the best you can." Em said reassuringly, putting her hand on Kira's shoulder one final time.
Em found Tajmire sitting atop the bar, surrounded by shattered bottles and shards of broken glass.
"Finding any answers at the bottom?" Questioned Em, as she sat at one of the metallic barstools.
Tajmire held up a solitary finger as he continued to down the dark, thick liquid. Asmeera Beer. A pungent, disgusting brew that tasted of a sweet, hot-tar with a mix of an artificial cherry sweetener. The strange Oesthi was the only person daring enough to go within five feet of the bottle. Let alone down the entire thing.
With a rumbling belch, Tajmire triumphantly finished off the bottle. He tossed it onto the metal deck with a loud "crash!"
"Now, how can I help you, Em?" Tajmire said sloppily.
Em firmly pressed the bridge of her nose. "Where is Nyez? Have you seen him?"
Tajmire took a deep breath and concentrated firmly. "Yeah, I've seen him. He was heading down to Engineering an hour ago. But, last I checked, the corridor was completely blocked off. The ceiling came through, covering the entire hallway with debris. He might have taken an access shaft, though. That's what I would have done."
"Thanks, Tajmire," Em said, patting him on the leg as he unscrewed another bottle of Asmeera Beer.
Em passed Kira one final time, who was staring at the dark pile of bodies stacked in the corner. Em hurriedly shuffled past without saying a word. The door finally crept upwards, allowing Em to pass into another darkened corridor. The flashing emergency lighting offered little to aid her view. After a slow march through the darkness, Em finally reached the beginning of the Engineering section.
Thankfully, this doorway lifted rather quickly compared to others on the ship. Em was greeted with a rather chaotic sight, the corridor was as Tajmire described - a complete mess. The entire metal paneling on the ceiling had completely caved-in straight through to the outer hull. The stairwell that laid further beyond was completely inaccessible. She feared that a few more hits to their weakened outer-hull would lead to a violent depressurization of the entire compartment. Hesitantly, she began searching for an access hatch.
Turning the corner, a bit of paneling along the wall was lifted off its housing, revealing a dimly lit tunnel that turned off steeply into the bowels of the ship.
"Nyez?" Em called down into the shadowy entrance.
There was no reply.
Taking in an overly-exaggerated deep breath, Em crawled-in and slowly made her way through the tight crawl space. After a few minutes, a few awkward turns, and some muffled cursing, Em made it to the end of the maintenance shaft. The faint sound of hushed whispers came from up ahead. Slowly she peered around the corner and scanned the room.
Una, the head Engineer, was sitting alone in the crimson-colored room with her back turned towards Em.
"Una?" Em called out quietly.
She didn't respond.
"Mrs. Garnik? Are you alright?"
The figure still didn't move.
Em began to panic as she stood, wincing at the sharp pain that shot through her knee. Her heart began to race as she inched her way towards Una, who still sat slumped over, motionless in the chair. She stopped just three feet behind the figure and stared at the engineer intently, watching for any signs of movement.
Nothing.
Em mustered up the courage to reach out and gently touch Una's motionless shoulder. But, just as she was about to make contact, a hand shot out from the darkness surrounding her.
Before a surprised scream could escape her lips, a muffled "shush" sounded from the dark figure attached to the hand. Nyez slowly stepped out of the surrounding darkness. He motioned for Em, who was still staring wide-eyed, to follow him. The quiet man slowly led her down another series of darkened hallways, and into another brightly lit room. Two engineers sat quietly against the Reactor's primary controls.
"So, what's going on?" Em abruptly asked, her patience finally bursting like an engorged dam.
"What's going on, is that I just saved you from waking Una. She's lost a lot of blood and we just finally got her to rest after stitching up the wound."
Em followed along, but one detail stood out. "But why in a chair?"
"Oh, that was Una's idea. She said it's because of her back. Helps relieve the pressure or something."
Em and Nyez joined the two other engineers in the cramped room. They were locked in a tense debate over their best options for restoring the main power, which was no simple task. The youngest mechanic, Leo, a boy no older than twenty, boldly volunteered to climb down through the secondary access chamber to restart the system.
"Are you sure this will work?" Em asked, unconvinced.
Nyez shrugged his shoulders. "I hope so. Pash said this might be our only real option."
"How reassuring," Em mumbled to herself.
The two watched as Leo descended into the smaller chamber hidden below the Reactor. The large, metallic hatch clicked loudly as it sealed into place behind Leo. Soon, he reached the archaic, secondary control panel. Pash began disconnecting the primary unit's various control modules, giving Leo full control of the delicate system. Within minutes of Leo having control over the Reactor, the deep hum of Primary Power Cells came to life. Restoring full power to much of the ship.
Leo suddenly sprung out of the small chamber, his face and neck drenched in a thick, sticky sweat. They watched as he awkwardly hobbled over towards Pash, who was standing intently at the Primary Controls monitoring the second-feed outputs. Leo latched onto Pash's jumpsuit frantically, pulling on the blue fabric until the two were merely inches away from one another. Em and Nyez exchanged quick, worried glances.
Em could have sworn she could see the color practically drain from Pash's face as Leo explained the situation. All he could do was nod as the young engineer frantically explained. Before long, Leo was once again hobbling back towards the secondary controls. He dropped back into the opening frantically, sealing the large, metallic hatch behind him.
Em was the first to rush over. "Pash! What is going on?"
"Oh, um, well. I have good news, and I have bad news. Which would you prefer?" Pash explained quietly.
Em and Nyez exchanged another worried glance. Finally, Em took a nervous breath and calmed herself. "Just tell us the good news first, Pash."
He nodded. "The good news is that Primary Power, along with the majority of the main systems, are restored."
"And the bad news?" asked Nyez.
Pash's face once-more grew exceptionally pale. Beads of sweat began to form along his receding hairline. "The power output...it's increasing far beyond the optimal limits. The Regulator must have been damaged in the attack."
"Pash, what exactly does that mean? What's at stake here?" pestered Em.
Nyez turned to Em, looking her deep in the eye. "If they can't get the Regulator back online, then the power levels would reach a critical level. Destroying the ship, and all of us with it."
"Do we have a spare Regulator?"
Nyez turned to Pash who shook his head defeatedly. Em closed her eyes in reluctant acceptance of their inevitable fate.
"Do we at least have any plausible options?" She pleaded.
Pash and Nyez stood in an uncomfortable silence as Em demanded ideas. Desperate for any chance to get off the ship alive. But after several long, awkward minutes, Em slumped down onto the floor, slowly. No matter how hard she tried, they were ill-prepared for such a scenario. And with their lead Engineer out of commission, it was up to them to formulate a life-saving plan.
"We need to bring this information to the others in the Mess. See if anyone else has a solution." Nyez suggested.
"Doubt it," Pash grumbled.
"We have to at least try," Em retorted, agreeing with Nyez's suggestion.
Pash reluctantly agreed, now that he was obviously outnumbered.
Retrieving Leo from the Secondary Controls, the two engineers carefully lifted Una through the cramped ductwork of the access shaft through the bowels of the ship. Finally making their way to the crowded Mess Hall. Where they were greeted with an awkward, tangible silence. Cautiously, the two engineers set Una onto a bloodied, steel booth.
Nova, the ship's only doctor, rushed over quickly. Ever since the attack on the ship, she had been working nonstop to save as many lives as possible. She gingerly took Una's limp wrist into her hands and began to feel around the boney joint.
A dreary expression crept across her face. She set Una's wrist down slowly onto the table as she examined the remainder of the wounded engineer.
"We tried the best we could, Doc," Nyez explained, timidly.
Nova gave him a reassuring smile and nodded briefly before turning back to Una.
Nova untucked Una's beige blouse to reveal her stitches had torn once more. Small pools of blood were beginning to trickle out of the deep gash.
"Oh no," Leo pleaded, as he watched Nova examine the wound.
With a sigh, she pulled the blouse back down. "I'm sorry, there's just nothing I can do." Nova explained, holding back tears.
Em gently rested a hand on her shoulder. It had been an exceptionally hard day for the lone doctor aboard their crippled vessel. Nova had experienced more chaos and death in a matter of hours than most would experience in their entire careers aboard a starship.
"If the Med Bay hadn't been completely destroyed, I could do something. But, all my equipment - it's gone. All of it. Destroyed in a damn fire." Nova admitted, collapsing onto the booth next to Una. Streaks of tears began to trail down her normally-rosy cheeks as she stared at the increasingly pale corpse of the deceased engineer.
"I have others to attend to," Nova said, wiping the tears from her eyes. She left the group silently.
Pash covered Una's body in the familiar black cloth that Nova had provided before stepping away. The doctor was now carefully stitching a serious-looking head gash. Em could see the small, occasional tear roll down her flushed cheeks. A twinge of sympathy shot through her.
Em rushed back towards the relative isolation of the cockpit. Tears were now rushing down her dark, ebony face. Down past the deep beautification marks cut deep into her flesh.
They had thankfully removed Jerrod's body in her absence. Em didn't know if she could take the sight of his mangled torso any longer. The Communications display was still offline. And the one man responsible for it was dead. No one, as far as Em knew, had any experience with Sub-Space, or FTL Buoy Communications. They were on their own. Stranded, and running out of time.
Resting her face in her hands, Em sat and contemplated their increasingly dire situation. How truly desperate and helpless the few survivors had become. Staring out the cracked window of the cockpit, Em watched as the stars began drifting by quicker-and-quicker with every passing moment. Their time was increasingly running out, and Em had yet to formulate their last minute, life-saving plan.
"Any second now," she reassured herself.
"They have an idea," Nyez called out from the darkness of the connecting passageway. Soon, his bald, bandaged head was popping out from underneath the stalled door.
A fresh role of ivory-white cloth was neatly wrapped around his scalp.
"They came up with an idea. Something that might actually work," Nyez explained with a hopeful tone.
"Who came up with this master plan?" Em retorted, suspiciously.
"Tajmire," Nyez explained, sheepishly.
"Tajmire? That drunken Oesthi wouldn't know a Stardrive Reactor from the bottom of a bottle," ranted Em.
"I know that if we don't get off this ship in the next twenty-four minutes, we'll be ejected into open space at speeds of Warp 8 or greater. And I might even know of a way that includes you continuing to breathe. If that's preferable, Em." Tajmire announced rather smugly as he ducked below the doorway.
"Oh? Is that so? And why should we trust you?" Exclaimed Em, as she paced over defiantly to meet the towering Oesthi.
"Hey, hey, you two. Please behave for once." Nyez pleaded, desperately." Tajmire actually had a decent idea, Em." explained Nyez.
"I'm not buying it," Em said, turning her back towards them. Once again, sitting down at the helm to review the same meaningless data she'd read over five times before.
"Listen to me, Em'Dama. I know we don't always see eye-to-eye. But I'm needing you to trust me. Because in..." Tajmire explained, bringing his stopwatch towards his face, "... in twenty-two minutes this ship is going to rapidly, and violently, tear itself apart. And I have a way, an actual, plausible solution to not dying in the endless vacuum of space. Now, do you think we can put our differences aside this one time? Please?"
Em swiveled in her seat and faced Tajmire. Though Em stood nearly a foot shorter than the Oesthi, she tried her best to reach his level. Dissatisfied with the noticeable height-difference, Em abruptly struck Tajmire squarely in his thigh. The sharp, unexpected jolt of pain sent him tumbling towards the floor, barely catching himself on one questionably-stable knee.
"Better," Em commented, as she crouched to meet Tajmire's painful expression.
She studied his hazel-colored eyes, noticing the deep, pungent shades of untamed fear that radiated from deep within him. Slowly she ran her nimble fingers through his curly, black hair. Grabbing a handful, Em pulled the man close to her violently. Tajmire winced in pain once more as he was nearly brought off his awkward stance.
A low growl escaped from Em's lips. "Are you listening to me, Tajmire?"
"Yes, I-.."
"No! Don't speak," Em hissed, striking the man once again in the opposite thigh. "I only want to hear your voice when I ask for it."
Em's gaze turned towards Nyez, who was standing with his mouth agape. Em lifted a finger over her lips. A gentle "shh" escaped as her attention turned back towards Tajmire, who was still kneeling silently on the deck.
"Listen to me," Em whispered into his ear, her hand still firmly gripping onto a handful of his curly hair.
Tajmire just nodded.
"If you ever, and I mean, ever, say that name again. I will rip your tongue out and feed it to you in pieces. Do you understand me? And I promise you, no amount of Asmeera Beer is going to numb that pain."
Tajmire stared at Em in complete shock. After serving with her aboard the ship for nearly a year, he'd never once seen this side of her. It caught him completely unprepared.
Em shook her head. "No, I want you to say it. Tell me you understand."
"I understand, Em. I'm sorry. I won't say it again." Tajmire pleaded.
Em's carefully manicured eyebrow curved upward in surprise. She didn't expect an apology, especially one in an audible distance of another person. Satisfied, she released her grip on Tajmire's hair and motioned for him to stand.
"Well then, now that we've come to an understanding. Tajmire, by all means. Explain to us your plan." Em gestured, as she sat back at the helm.
Tajmire stood quickly and dusted himself off. Turning towards the half-suspended doorway, he straightened his torn, and blooded jumpsuit and took a moment to regain his still-healing composure.
"Alright," Tajmire said, as he turned back towards Em and Nyez. "With the courtesy of an often overlooked design flaw, this class of ship was built with two escape shuttles on the port side only. Instead of the traditional design of a shuttle on either side of the hull. This would, in theory, allow for the ship to act as a sort of slingshot to propel both shuttles at a single, stationary target."
Em sat silently for a moment, going over the idea in her head. Though, no matter how bitterly she hated to admit it, Nyez was right. The plan might actually work."
"Wow," Em responded, finally.
"Wow? What do you mean, wow?" Nyez asked.
Em turned her gaze towards him. "What I mean is, just, what, an hour ago I saw him down an entire bottle of Asmeera Beer. And! He was opening a second as I was leaving."
Nyez turned towards Tajmire, who was staying silent. He offered little more than an unenthusiastic shrug.
"And, your point is?" Nyez asked confusingly.
"My point is, how did he manage to come up with all that after downing two whole bottles of beer?"
A cheeky grin spread across Tajmire's face. "There's only one thing that gets an Oesthi man going more effectively than beer. And that's celestial navigation. I sober up quickly when it's time to break out the old Atlas."
"Did I say you could speak?" Em retorted.
Tajmire shrugged once more. "It sounded like a question. And I had an answer."
Nyez stepped forward and threw his hands up. "What are you two doing! Stop your bickering and get going! We're running out of time!"
Em threw her hands up in defeat. "You're right. Tajmire, do whatever you have to do. We'll meet you at the shuttles."
Tajmire nodded, and quickly sat at the Helm and got to work.
Nyez and Em sprinted down the flashing corridors, past sparking consoles and piles of razor-sharp glass fragments. On the lowest level of the forward compartment, they finally found the remaining crew members being loaded into the two shuttles. The worst of the wounded were loaded first with Nova into Shuttle-1. Followed by the few others that managed to squeeze into what little room remained. The others would be forced to Shuttle-2 if all went according to plan.
The ancient IC system crackled to life as Tajmire began his countdown, announcing the successful plotting of the Warp course through the chaotic debris field of the Veigol Rift.
"100 seconds until Shuttle Bay launch. Strap in everyone! It's gonna be a bumpy ride."
Em hastily buckled herself into the small, red cushion that unfolded from the bulkhead. She watched as Nyez inspected Shuttle-1's hatch, taking the extra time to ensure the hatch had been securely locked into place. The faint sound of a pair of boots running across the steel deck-plate echoed throughout the barren corridors of the vessel. Seconds later, Tajmire came barreling around a corner.
"Twenty seconds!" He exclaimed as he almost wiped out on a pile of shattered glass. But luckily, he managed to get into his seat as the hatch was closing.
The scarlet-colored emergency lights flickered on slowly as the white fluorescent was replaced with the familiar dark glow. The automated system suddenly switched online as the final sequences were completed.
"Shuttle-1 ejecting in 3..2..1.." the computerized voice announced as the medical pod shot out from the port side of the vessel. Em tightly braced herself against the small backrest as the tension mounted.
"Shuttle-2, ejecting in 3..2..1.." The hydraulic, sling system shot the shuttle out of the vessel with a violent, rocking motion. A crushing force began to push on her chest as the G-Forces steadily increased. Immediately upon entry into the void of space, the shuttles were assaulted by an unrelenting wave of debris.
The rapidly moving objects varied in size from a marble, to a small ship. The newly installed autopilot system struggled to maneuver around so many projectiles at once. Em, in her mind, had made the logical assumption that all of Tajmire's tales of the uncharted perils of the Rift were nothing more than exaggerated 'sea-stories'. But as the Shuttle was increasingly thrown around by colliding debris, Em was beginning to heed his warnings.
For nearly five, long, perilous minutes, the crew was thrown around the small cabin of the shuttle. There was more than a few instances where they came perilously close to being added to the endless horde of space debris. Em could swear that she could hear an audible "pop" as they burst through the threshold into the planet's outer-orbit.
"We actually made it!" exclaimed Em, as she turned her attention towards the rest of her crewmen stuffed into the cramped shuttle. Tajmire's unconscious body was hanging limply from the seat's straps. Nyez was staring intently out the dark viewport to her right. Further back, Leo and Pash were pointing frantically out their adjoining port hole. While Kira sat silently near the rear, staring at the steel paneling along the floor.
"Uglier than I imagined," Nyez finally commented.
Em readjusted in her seat. Desperate to catch a glimpse of the elusive planet. Peering out the viewport, she waited patiently for the planet to float back into view. Soon; it's swampy, green oceans and dark brown continents were quickly floating into view. Em could even make out the faint outline of lush, green patches of forest.
Tajmire, who had finally regained consciousness, stared intently at the swampy world below. "After all this time," he muttered to himself.
"Now what?" Em asked, finally.
"I guess we land and take it from there. Unless you have another plan?" Nyez commented, dryly.
Em shook her head quickly. "Can't say I do. Plot in our course, and take us down. That's the only thing we can do, honestly."
"Did your data say anything about a preferred landing site?" Em asked, turning her attention towards Tajmire.
He simply shook his head slowly. "As far as I know, no ones actually made it to the planet before. We might actually be the first to ever make it this far."
"I say we take our chances. Land near some fresh water, though." Kira chimed in from the back of the shuttle.
"I agree," Em said. "Water is important. Survival is going to be the top priority after we land. Does anyone have any other suggestions?"
No one answered.
Em clapped her hands together. Signaling the end of the discussion. "Tajmire, lay in the course."
Tajmire nodded and unbuckled himself from his red fold-out seat. Awkwardly he half-floated, half-skipped along the small walkway between the two rows of front-facing seats. Mounted on the bulkhead near the hatch, a small, metallic display protruded slightly. Tajmire hastily began typing in a series of commands. He took great care to ensure the long string of code was correct.
Satisfied, he relayed the commands to Shuttle-1, who sat floating just off their starboard bow. Seconds later, their thrusters came online and they made their way towards the unexplored alien world.
Their fate, and destiny, unknown.