Commander Nearborne raced onto the bridge of the Devastator ducking between wires dangling from panels ripped from the walls. Not since Trafalgar Squad had split directions had he seen another soul on the ship. The battle roared about the ship, but it lay emptied and abandoned with only a trace of atmosphere remaining. Still, the thing was their best chance and he’d already wasted… Nearborne glanced at his watch. Two minutes.

Bill swept the push broom ahead with a small puff rising into the air with each sweep. An overly energetic push sent dust high enough to enter his nostrils and cause him to sneeze. A movement which sent pain vibrating through his shoulders. Gritting his teeth, he turned his head to the side as he tried to swallow in the exclamation. A habit formed from years containing himself around families.