Here is another writing prompt for my friend Cameron Montague Taylor's website. You should really check her out, she is an amazing writer. I feel like it will be forever before I'm caught up with these, but I'm writing as much as I can. It seems like life wants me focused on everything but the past time I enjoy.
Prompt: Star + Ink + Rescue
Silence. It’s what I wake to with a pulsating headache. No hum of the ship’s engines or blaring alarms from the AI warning of damage to life support systems. Only complete, unsettling silence. I fight against the wave of dizziness and roiling nausea as I pull myself from the floor.
The flashing red lights reaffirm my belief that there should be noise. My hand presses to my head, finding it crusted and sticky, and I wince at the searing sting from the gash I find there. I shake away the vertigo as I make my way to the pilot’s seat. From the windshield, I can see the ink black darkness of space stretching around us. No planets in sight. Each star alight in the distance only a passing dream, too far away to be of any help. I press a button on the console and a window opens before me. Blue projection screen corrupted by flashing red.
Life Support at 47%, Engine Functions 0%, Auxiliary Power Critical Failure, Oxygen Levels 78% and dropping at a rate of 3ppm per hour. Shit! I clear the screen and silence the alarms I know are blaring. I pull up the screen listed: Damage Report and scan the screen. Hull compromised at Docking Bay 3. Emergency activation of airlock in Sections 47B, 37, and 52A.
I swallow the dread clawing up my throat as I pull up the schematics for the greenhouse. I can’t think about the crew right now. I have to stay focused on keeping the remaining crew alive. As the diagram for the conservatory lights up the screen, I let out a relieved sigh. It shows green, damage at 5%. I read over the report to find nothing substantial. I quickly type in the override codes and authorization for the release of stored oxygen at a rate of 4ppm per hour. It should buy us time and help replenish the lost oxygen. With any luck, we can have the system repaired before we need to worry about it again.
I pull up the Life Support screen and check temperature levels in the uncompromised sections. Most are hovering around 68 degrees, but a few are dropping quickly. I pull up the AI and manually type in instructions to be announced to the crew. Attention! All crew members in Sections 23A, 54B, 35, and 46A, please move to a more secure section of the ship. Heating systems have been compromised in your area. They will need to be cordoned off until reparations can be made. All maintenance personnel physically capable should report to stations immediately.
I divert all unnecessary power to Life Support and watch the number slowly climb, 52%, 55%, 58%, 62%....
Weight lands on my shoulders, and I jump, spinning to see a wide-eyed Rory holding up his hands, mouth moving. I wave for him to stop, then sign, I can’t hear you. I think the accident damaged my hearing. Could be from the head injury, but I won’t know until we can run diagnostics. Thank Helos for Command insisting our training include sign language.
Rory nods, That looks really bad, Ande. We should get you to Med Bay.
I shake my head, I can’t just yet. I have to make sure Life Support is back up first. He kneels at my feet and puts his hand to my cheek. I lean into it with eyes closed until I feel his forehead against mine. I pull away. Braden?
He looks away before signing, He was in 52A with Warren and Casey last I heard. I feel my chest constrict and have to fight to draw breath. Hey. Hey! He pulls me in for a hug, then backs away. Don’t give up on that idiot, Ande. He’s too stubborn to go out like that. Besides, He knows I would never forgive him for leaving us. He’s alive, I can feel it.
I take a deep breath and let him pull me in for a kiss. I end it after a moment leaning back in the chair. I need to finish here and send out the distress call. We’ll need to keep Life Support running and start repairs if we have any hope of rescue.
Okay. Finish quickly so we can get you down to Med Bay. I don’t like the looks of that head injury. He takes my hand in his and mouths, “I love you.”
I smile and pull his hand to my lips, pressing a kiss to his swollen knuckles. Looks like I’m not the only one hurt. I turn back to the console and watch the numbers climb more, 84%, 87%.... I minimize the screen and activate the distress beacon, attaching the coordinates for our location and damage report. If we are lucky, Command will receive it within the hour and send out a vessel immediately. For now, I need to get to the Med Bay so I can get back to my job and find our idiot husband. Helos, protect him.
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