Yesterday, 01:58 PM
== NRC – Flint Chertstone – Tactical Officer ==
The Yeager was skimming ridiculously close to the surface of the comet. The manoeuvrer was mere seconds in duration, but it felt exhilarating. And then they began to pull back out. The stresses on the shields and the hull began to lessen. But only just.
Ahead of them were two of the Wairaran's. The nearest was bucking. The ship seeming to lurch from port to starboard, and pitching up and down constantly. The pilot was obviously fighting the ship for control. The the other ship on sensors had moved to a higher altitude a further ten thousand kilometres above its countryman. It seemed to be accelerating away with ease.
Where the Os'ura was, Flint wasn't sure. Their signature was still being masked by the comet for the moment.
Having already seen one of the Wairaran competitors spin off on the approach the comet, and this second one now suffering an issue, Flint was about the turn back to the Captain and ask what they should do. It was the done thing to assist other craft in trouble, and they were actually close enough to this one to be able to do something this time, regardless of the fact they were in a race they hadn't been expecting to be taking part in.
However, before he had the opportunity to speak, the impulse systems began to fluctuate. The engines began misfiring and independently ramping up power output thrust while simultaneously dropping out.
Alarms began sounding and fought for dominance over the pitch of the impulse drives as both systems screamed for attention. The ship began to buck just like the Wairaran.
Flint's hands began to fly over his console like he was possessed as he tried to bring the ship under control.
His displays showed him the shields over the ventral hull damage were about to fail. That was T'Lari's job the shields. His was to fly the ship. He knew he should begin a detailed powering down of the engines to bring the ship to a safe stop at this stage, but the adrenalin of the race was pumping, and he knew they wanted to win. That was Braggins call. If she said stop, he would, but if she didn't, he was going to push this damn ship through whatever this was if it was the last thing he did. Inwardly, he prayed it wasn't the last thing he ever did.
In the next moment, he realised that the other Wairaran must have known about this phenomenon. It had to be something localized for the pair of vessels to have both been effected. They had to get away from this location.
Making the call without permission first, he started hitting controls in the hope of altering the Yeager's altitude in relation to the comet, to send her on a course that would follow the line of the second Wairaran and away from whatever had effected them so badly.
“I'm going to try to increase or distance from the comet.” He called out over the klaxons and the engine squeals.
He didn't wait for a reply. The problem was, he tapped the final key just as the external sensors failed, and the viewscreen when blank.
If a crew of 118 ever needed to hold their collective breaths, this was that time. Half impulse and flying totally blind, Flint hoped that if they moved far enough away from the source of this problem, they'd regain control before it was too late.
== And that's a Tag to anyone listening ==
The Yeager was skimming ridiculously close to the surface of the comet. The manoeuvrer was mere seconds in duration, but it felt exhilarating. And then they began to pull back out. The stresses on the shields and the hull began to lessen. But only just.
Ahead of them were two of the Wairaran's. The nearest was bucking. The ship seeming to lurch from port to starboard, and pitching up and down constantly. The pilot was obviously fighting the ship for control. The the other ship on sensors had moved to a higher altitude a further ten thousand kilometres above its countryman. It seemed to be accelerating away with ease.
Where the Os'ura was, Flint wasn't sure. Their signature was still being masked by the comet for the moment.
Having already seen one of the Wairaran competitors spin off on the approach the comet, and this second one now suffering an issue, Flint was about the turn back to the Captain and ask what they should do. It was the done thing to assist other craft in trouble, and they were actually close enough to this one to be able to do something this time, regardless of the fact they were in a race they hadn't been expecting to be taking part in.
However, before he had the opportunity to speak, the impulse systems began to fluctuate. The engines began misfiring and independently ramping up power output thrust while simultaneously dropping out.
Alarms began sounding and fought for dominance over the pitch of the impulse drives as both systems screamed for attention. The ship began to buck just like the Wairaran.
Flint's hands began to fly over his console like he was possessed as he tried to bring the ship under control.
His displays showed him the shields over the ventral hull damage were about to fail. That was T'Lari's job the shields. His was to fly the ship. He knew he should begin a detailed powering down of the engines to bring the ship to a safe stop at this stage, but the adrenalin of the race was pumping, and he knew they wanted to win. That was Braggins call. If she said stop, he would, but if she didn't, he was going to push this damn ship through whatever this was if it was the last thing he did. Inwardly, he prayed it wasn't the last thing he ever did.
In the next moment, he realised that the other Wairaran must have known about this phenomenon. It had to be something localized for the pair of vessels to have both been effected. They had to get away from this location.
Making the call without permission first, he started hitting controls in the hope of altering the Yeager's altitude in relation to the comet, to send her on a course that would follow the line of the second Wairaran and away from whatever had effected them so badly.
“I'm going to try to increase or distance from the comet.” He called out over the klaxons and the engine squeals.
He didn't wait for a reply. The problem was, he tapped the final key just as the external sensors failed, and the viewscreen when blank.
If a crew of 118 ever needed to hold their collective breaths, this was that time. Half impulse and flying totally blind, Flint hoped that if they moved far enough away from the source of this problem, they'd regain control before it was too late.
== And that's a Tag to anyone listening ==