Mark had not expected the chorus of “No” to greet him reaching for the trap door in the engineering room floor. Snatching his hand back, he straightened and stared at the five crew members arrayed about the room. Each had lunged toward him, and, seeing him pull back, paused glancing at each other. They shuffled back several steps in discomfort, as if surprised by their own reactions. All this over one trap door?

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.

Franlin sighed relieved when the pod’s door swept open. Tarin rushed red and wheezing from having run. She glanced at the clock. “You shouldn’t have taken the time to shut the experiments down. You cut that too close.”