Now there was no question that everyone else would be right behind him.
Whatever was waiting for them at the coordinates Evie had given them, it was more than nothing.
A second jolt sent Lincoln nearly flying toward his seat, only feeling secure once he had buckled himself in, not willing to take any chances. They'd stopped. Every readout showed that any forward momentum they'd had was gone. And yet, the ship was practically vibrating, so much so that Lincoln almost missed the telltale rumble of boots coming up the stairs to join him.
Lincoln risked taking his eyes off the readout in front of him for an instant.
Oliver: What the hell is going on?
Sprocket: I'm not reading any damage, but there's no way the hull can take this for long.
Great. So, whatever they'd flown into, they couldn't afford to stay a second longer than necessary. Which meant it was Lincoln's job to get the ship moving again and get them out of here. But no matter what he asked of the Lexiconis, the ship refused to respond. There was a weird energy emanating all around them, which was likely messing with the sensors, or maybe damaging the ship more than they realized. But he couldn't go forward, and he couldn't go back.
They were stuck inside something Lincoln had never encountered before. He'd never even heard of anything like this. There wasn't supposed to be energy in space, certainly nothing that could stop an entire ship in its tracks.
The conversation readout beside Lincoln was moving too rapidly to read. Everyone had crammed themselves onto the bridge and they were talking over one another. If anyone found anything that might be able to help him, he'd never see it.
Using one hand to fire each thruster in turn, Lincoln risked the other to press the small blue button beside his transcription read out, limiting what he was shown to anything that referenced him directly. There were probably a dozen other keywords he should be on the lookout for, but he wasn't willing to risk diverting too much of his attention from trying to regain control of the ship.
Lincoln had trained as a pilot out of necessity more than anything, but he'd taken to it better than most in his class. There was no sound in space, and he'd quickly picked up that anything he might hear on the ship that could be important to him was always accompanied by a sensation, readout, or light. He understood ships and flight in a way that no one else could appreciate. But none of that had prepared him for frantically trying to keep up with all the information the ship's logs were throwing at him, all while every piece of the engine fought against him from within while something still completely unknown assaulted him from without.
18:22
Oliver: Lincoln, what's happening?
18:22
Gwynn: Can I help with anything, Lincoln?
18:22
Oliver: Lincoln?
18:23
Sprocket: I don't know what Lincoln's doing, but the engine hates him for it. We can't just reverse course? We're losing too much power to keep this up much longer.
18:25
Safa: Lincoln, do you need anything?
Lincoln shook his head, not sure who he was answering while trying to maintain his concentration. If the Lexiconis had been a different model of ship, he might have had more options. But all the constellation class vessels were utilitarian in nature, they came tailored for specific work. There were no weapons, no systems meant to interact with things outside the ship, nothing.
And Sprocket hadn't been wrong about the power drain. Whatever had gotten hold seemed to be taking as much energy from the ship as it was throwing at them. They were losing it faster than the Lexiconis could generate more, which could quickly leave them absolutely nothing to fight back with.
Sweat trickled down Lincoln's back. The air on the bridge seemed to be superheating, but maybe that could be the stress on his body as easily as a result of what was happening to the ship.
Either way, neither one of them would be able to keep this up for much longer.
18:26
Oliver: Lincoln. What if we put everything we have into reversing, get away from whatever this is?
A quick glance at the ship's reserves made it all too clear that the captain's plan wouldn't work. There wasn't enough left to make a real push. Maybe if he'd done it right away, but even then.
For the first time in years, a pit of resentment formed in Lincoln's already knotted stomach. If only he could open his mouth and tell everyone else what he was seeing, how he was interpreting it. If only his ears could take in all the brainstorming that was inevitably going on around him, letting it fuel his own inspiration. Instead he was entirely isolated and left to make decisions on his own when the consequences of anything would come with risks he didn't have time to try and understand.
But the situation wasn't going to change any time soon. And the ears Lincoln had been born with were the only ones he had to work with now. The decision was his to make, and he'd have to hope that he and his friends would be alive to deal with whatever came next.
Because as much as his captain wanted to put all of their power into a last-ditch escape effort, Lincoln's gut was telling him to do the exact opposite. Power was the problem here. Power was what would destroy their ship. And they needed more of it, not less.
On second thought, it was probably for the best that Lincoln didn't have the voice or time to spare to convince everyone else to see things his way. He was the one flying the ship, and this time that meant he was the one calling the shots.
With the flip of a switch, Lincoln cut off the Lexiconis from all non-essential power, plunging the bridge into darkness.
Black, black, black. Every computer, every light, even the view screen was out, leaving Lincoln in darkness as well as silence. He'd never liked the feeling.
But maybe, just maybe, it had been worth it. Everything was still. The ship had stilled. It didn't even feel like anyone was speaking, probably surprised into shutting up. And the rumbling that had been relentless ever since the Lexiconis had stopped was gone too.
There was only stillness. The next step was to turn the thrusters back on, one by one and start backing away to see how much power they could risk without getting caught all over again.
As suddenly as there had been perfect black, the bridge lit up. Every screen glowing white as energy surged through the ship. Brighter, brighter, brighter. More and more until Lincoln was just as blind in the light as he had been in the dark.
The Lexiconis was wrenched both forward and back at the same time, unforgivingly violent enough that Lincoln was sure the ship would be ripped apart.
They hadn't escaped at all.
And then there was nothing.
Chapter Six – Evie
Evie wasn't sure exactly when she'd passed out—the bridge had gone dark all at once, and then the entire universe had lit up around her. And then she was back in black all over again, but this time on the floor, with someone else's boot pushed up against her ribcage.
The ship was still too quiet. No lights, no engines, no power, and guessing by the strange taste in the air, no environmental systems either.
Whatever had happened, nothing about her current situation was filling Evie with optimism.
Attempting to find which way was up, Evie fumbled for the floor, pushing against the first solid surface she found.
"Ow." Someone grumbled beside her before pulling what had probably been their arm out from under Evie's weight, sending her back toward the ground.
It took longer than it should have to so much as sit up while Evie's thoughts were still jumbled and foggy. Between being tossed around the bridge like a ragdoll and the ever-present thought that whatever had happened had been her fault, Evie was about ready to crawl into bed and sleep off this entire escapade.
"Is everyone okay?" Captain Briggs' voice cut through the silence, giving Evie something to focus on. And one by one, each of the Lexiconis' crew answered their captain, like flares in the darkness.
Evie wasn't alone.
"Is Lincoln okay?" Safa asked after
explaining that she'd hit her head but was otherwise feeling okay.
"He's here, up and moving around. Evie, are you alright?"
Evie blinked, the motion doing nothing to clear her vision. Right. She was supposed to answer too. Her body felt a million kilometers away from the scene playing out around her, not ready to accept that whatever had happened to them was happening to her too.
"I'm good," she said, her voice coming out as more of a croak. She cleared her throat and tried again. "I'm okay. Just sore and maybe freaking out a little."
"Does anyone know what happened?" The captain asked.
No one answered, but that wasn't a surprise. It would have been a small miracle if any of the crew could have shed light on what they'd all just been through. Toward where she assumed the captain was standing, something metallic dropped to the floor.
"Okay, next question. How did we lose power? Was that the … anomaly? Energy barrier? Whatever. It doesn't matter. Step one is getting this ship back up and running before it becomes one big happy coffin for all of us."
Evie shivered in the darkness, wishing there was something she could say or do to help. They'd be lucky to get off the bridge in one piece, without knocking one another down the stairs. How anyone could actually accomplish any repairs in such perfect darkness was completely beyond her.
But thankfully, no one had been counting on Sprocket’s technical skill set to save the day. With a mechanical sigh, all of the lights and systems onboard the Lexiconis seemed to spring back to life at once.
Evie's eyes immediately squeezed shut, protecting themselves against the invading power of the bulbs embedded in the ceiling of the bridge. By the time she forced them open again, Sprocket was just pulling himself out from under the pilot's station, Lincoln staring down at him, looking as bewildered as Evie felt.
"Power's back on," he said with a grin as the captain helped pull his mechanic back to standing.
"Nicely done," his captain said, clapping Sprocket on the back. "Unfortunately, there's no time to celebrate. Give me the rundown."
He hadn't directed the order at anyone in particular, but the entire crew moved into action at once, including the captain himself who took the chair beside Lincoln to log into the ship's main computer.
"Sensors, environmental and navigation all seem to be working, but I'm getting some weird errors in every system," Gwynn said first. She'd moved to take a seat beside a computer station on the captain's side of the bridge.
"The engine is in rough shape," Sprocket said. "I doubt I'll be able to get us moving at anything faster than a crawl, but I'll need to get down there and see things for myself before I know for sure."
"Go," Captain Briggs said, cocking his head upward without turning to look at Sprocket.
The mechanic was gone before Safa spoke. "We're still structurally sound. Whatever hit us seemed to bypass the hull entirely, ripping us up from the inside instead."
Evie's eyebrows popped up, surprised to hear the tiny mad-scientist she'd met on her first day on board chime in on matters of engineering. In the week she'd known the other woman, Safa had mostly kept to her room or her lab on the second level, always tinkering with something or other that looked like it could blow up without warning. Evie still didn't really know what she did on board.
"Problem." Lincoln's mechanical voice interrupted Evie's train of thought. Everyone still on the bridge turned to face the pilot as one. "The viewscreen is telling me it's working perfectly, but …" The voice cut out, not needing an explanation. Despite the light shining on board as strong as ever, the large screen that took up most of the front wall still showed nothing but darkness.
"The cameras are still up?" Captain Briggs asked, turning to Safa.
"Apparently."
"And the screen itself is showing as functional?" he asked, turning directly to Lincoln, likely so the pilot could read his lips. The other man nodded. "It's possible the internal sensors are damaged, so we're getting false readings. We're going to need to check each system manually." He swiveled in his chair, moving to face away from the useless view screen. "Gwynn, start with the environmental systems. Grab Sprocket if you need to. Then he can go back to engines, while you start in on the computer system. Lincoln and I will work from up here."
Gwynn disappeared down the stairs while Lincoln and Captain Briggs started punching commands into the computer faster than Evie could keep up, leaving her and Safa alone together behind them.
Safa's brown eyes stared forward, studying the empty screen. Most of her dark hair sat in rumpled waves around her head, but a small clump was stuck in a wet clump, clinging to the side of Safa's face.
Evie took a step closer, shifting herself so she was standing in front of the other woman so as not to startle her. "You hit your head," she said out loud, remembering Safa's report from earlier. Safa nodded, but her eyes still refused to focus on Evie's, her expression remaining completely neutral. "And you're bleeding."
"I'm fine." She was either stunned or deep in thought and disinclined to share, but a concussion was also a very real possibility.
"Do you have any medical supplies on board?"
The question was enough to finally get Safa's attention. "Yes, but I don't need them." Evie reached out, moving some of Safa's hair out of the way, determined to get a better look. Safa jerked her head back as soon as the damp hair lifted from her forehead. "I'm fine, really."
"It's still bleeding a little. Let's get you checked out, just to be safe."
"No, they might need me here."
"Let Evie look at you," the captain said, not turning his head. Of course he'd been listening this whole time. "There's an empty office on level two with a closet full of medical supplies," he said, for Evie's benefit now. "It's all been sitting in there for a long time, but it should have everything you need."
Safa was already standing, clearly more willing to listen to the Lexiconis' captain than its passenger. "Fine. I'll be back in five minutes."
"We promise not to have any fun without you," Lincoln's voice said, pushing a grin onto Safa's face.
Safa took off down the stairs. Evie only managed to catch up when she stopped completely in front of the open door to her bedroom. "Come on, we should go and—" Evie stopped short, distracted by the same thing that had grabbed Safa's attention. Her room looked like a disaster zone. Most of her shelves were empty, their contents tossed to the ground, littered among broken glass.
Everything in the bridge was permanently bolted to the floors or walls. The only things that had been moved from their places on impact had been the crew itself. Below decks was a different situation altogether.
Safa looked like she wanted to say something, but when Evie started walking she followed without a word. There was too much going on right now to deal with everything at once. They were going to have to prioritize and hope they'd be able to come back and fix the rest later.
At least the room Safa took her to had been mostly empty before the energy surge, leaving only someone's sweater on the ground between the door and the sterile medical bed in the center of the room. A sink was embedded into the counter with a window above it and a closet opposite.
"There are bandages in the top drawer," Safa said, grabbing something from across the room and hopping up on the bench. After finding everything she might need, Evie turned to find Safa studying her own wound with a hand mirror.
"I don't think I have a concussion."
"Would the person with the concussion be the best possible judge of that?" Evie tried to keep her tone light, hoping Safa would realize she was teasing. Concussion or not, the mood was still tense.
"Do you have any medical training?"
"No."
"Then yes, I'm still the best judge. This is going to bruise soon, and maybe scar, but that's it. My head feels fine, I'm not dizzy or nauseous. There's nothing to be concerned about."
So much for jokes. "Good to know," Evie said, approaching with a damp cloth. As she gently dabbed at th
e area, cleaning away some already dried blood, Safa lost interest in her all over again, looking around the room at anything other than Evie herself.
"All cleaned up," Evie said a minute later, mostly to herself. "I disinfected it just to be safe," a trick she'd picked up from some medical drama she'd watched when she'd been in school, her favorite guilty pleasure, "and it looks like the bleeding has mostly stopped, but we'll check on this again later to make sure it looks okay."
Safa didn't answer, her gaze fixed straight ahead once more.
The crew of the Lexiconis had been friendly enough during their trip together, though even after eight non-stop days tomorrow, Evie still didn't consider any of them to be friends. But before today, either Safa or Sprocket would have gotten the award for putting in the most effort. While Safa always seemed to exist in a world of her own, she tried to make an effort to pull Evie into conversations and seemed genuinely interested in her, which had been a nice counterbalance to the way Lincoln always looked when he was studying her.
Now, she barely warranted a glance.
"You think this is my fault, right?"
Still, nothing. Safa didn't even look like she'd heard her.
"I didn't know this was going to happen," she said, needing to get the words out to someone, even if they weren't actually listening to her.
"I know what's wrong with the viewscreen," Safa whispered, eyes still locked ahead.
"Oh?" Had Safa actually not been listening to her, or was she just trying to change the subject?
"Nothing's wrong with it. It's working perfectly." Safa cocked her head, still unblinking. Finally, Evie surrendered the conversation. Safa wasn't looking for a heart to heart, and something else seemed to be holding her attention in a vice. She turned to see what it was that was so interesting.
The window. Safa had been staring out the window.
The window that showed too-dark space outside the ship. "That's a window, right?" Evie asked, needing to know for sure. "Not another view screen."
"It's a window," Safa said, confirming Evie's fears.
"I don't understand." Evie turned back toward the other woman, unable to look outside a moment longer, her mind not comprehending what it was seeing, only the wrongness of it all.
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