Yesterday, 10:43 AM
<<< Ancillary Locations (#31) <<<
The walk back to the Security Complex wasn’t long. Maybe a few minutes at most. But it stretched, drawn out by silence and something heavier that clung to Leo’s boots and shoulders alike. He didn’t remember the route, not really. His feet moved on their own, following muscle memory more than conscious thought. He passed crew from engineering, medical and science, all moving with urgency. None of them stopped him. Maybe they saw the way his eyes didn’t quite focus, or how his hands were still, fingers curled into fists that didn’t know why. He kept walking. Breathing. In. Out. But it didn’t feel like air was going in. Not properly.
By the time the doors to the Security Complex hissed open, his thoughts were both heavy and hollow. He was still carrying the moments of the body, the heat and the fire. But somewhere along the way, his mind and his emotions had abandoned him.
The Security Complex was alive with tension. Not the kind that came with drawn phasers or red alerts, but the tightly coiled, fast-moving kind born of overlapping crises. Console screens flickered with tactical feeds and proximity warnings. The main viewer at the front of the room displayed the race map and a comet’s tail stretching like a spectral ribbon across space, glowing with dangerous beauty. Every so often, data streams scrolled across auxiliary monitors, highlighting anomalies and ship positioning with harsh, flickering indicators.
Lieutenant d'Tor'an stood near the central console, posture steady, gaze locked onto the screen, her voice sharp and precise as she fired off new commands. She looked burned but unshaken, holding herself like someone who couldn’t afford to slow down and wouldn’t. Not a real, processed thought, but Leo considered for a moment that she looked far better than she had any right to and even more stalwart despite remaining signs of her fiery walk into what she would probably call Gre'thor.
Jessy was at a console beside Gary, coordinating incoming updates from various departments and cross referencing different bits of info as quickly as she could. Leo didn’t know her too well. Maybe glimpses in the halls, maybe a shared lift once, a nod at shift change, but she moved like someone who fit this place naturally. Right now, Leo felt like a shape that didn’t quite.
Gary sat at the central console, next to where Art stood, monitoring feeds across a wall of screens. His glance lifted just enough to register Leo’s entrance. A wordless acknowledgement passed between them, subtle and professional. A quiet good, you made it. No fanfare, just a thread of silent continuity in the storm.
Leo nodded faintly in return and moved to a vacant workstation near the edge of the room. He sat. His hands found the console, and it flickered to life, eager to serve. But his brain wasn’t. Radley had told him to come back and complete his report, but given the urgency that filled the room, Leo started to glance at the streams of information bombarding his screen.
He scrolled through, finding readouts on various Plasma readings, Deck activity, Structural stability, Power fluctuations. The noise of it washed over him like static. He blinked harshly before he scrolled again.
You have a job to do, his thoughts whispered. So do it.
But the weight of everything, the fire, the bodies, the sounds, the faces he couldn’t remember the names of. It all pressed in like vacuum pressure. His breathing was slow. Dull. He felt cold in places he shouldn’t be.
Then, like a sudden electric shock up his spine and into his brain, something on the screen snapped him back into reality. All his worries and concerns, even his doubts and self made burdens that weigh heavy on his head, were slammed into a storage box in his mind and locked away, to hopefully be dealt with later.
His heart dropped and his breathing stopped for a moment.
The ship lurched. Just slightly but enough that his chair shifted. A mechanical groan rose somewhere deep in the bulkhead, the soft whine of strained systems giving way to something closer to a shriek. Leo froze and then flicked through the readouts again to confirm what he’d seen.
Blank. Then flickers. A moment of clarity. And then blank again.
He lifted his head, his face turned grey with shock and turned to face the centre of the room where d’Tor’an stood commanding the chaos.
“Chief” he shouted, his voice clear despite the energy coursing through the room, “I think we’re losing containment over the hull breach. Force fields are… faltering, maybe offline, Sensors just dropped. It’s… it's where. There's people down there.”
The words hung in the air, sharp and immediate.
Whatever else was happening, this couldn’t be ignored.
== Tag d'Tor'an, Security & NRC's ==
== GM Input - A) Can I get clarification please, Regarding Bridge post #84, If the forcefield around the hull breach is failing or has actually failed and B) again Regarding Bridge post #84, where the sensors screens (on the bridge) had gone blank, was it a specific sensor or all sensors please.
The walk back to the Security Complex wasn’t long. Maybe a few minutes at most. But it stretched, drawn out by silence and something heavier that clung to Leo’s boots and shoulders alike. He didn’t remember the route, not really. His feet moved on their own, following muscle memory more than conscious thought. He passed crew from engineering, medical and science, all moving with urgency. None of them stopped him. Maybe they saw the way his eyes didn’t quite focus, or how his hands were still, fingers curled into fists that didn’t know why. He kept walking. Breathing. In. Out. But it didn’t feel like air was going in. Not properly.
By the time the doors to the Security Complex hissed open, his thoughts were both heavy and hollow. He was still carrying the moments of the body, the heat and the fire. But somewhere along the way, his mind and his emotions had abandoned him.
The Security Complex was alive with tension. Not the kind that came with drawn phasers or red alerts, but the tightly coiled, fast-moving kind born of overlapping crises. Console screens flickered with tactical feeds and proximity warnings. The main viewer at the front of the room displayed the race map and a comet’s tail stretching like a spectral ribbon across space, glowing with dangerous beauty. Every so often, data streams scrolled across auxiliary monitors, highlighting anomalies and ship positioning with harsh, flickering indicators.
Lieutenant d'Tor'an stood near the central console, posture steady, gaze locked onto the screen, her voice sharp and precise as she fired off new commands. She looked burned but unshaken, holding herself like someone who couldn’t afford to slow down and wouldn’t. Not a real, processed thought, but Leo considered for a moment that she looked far better than she had any right to and even more stalwart despite remaining signs of her fiery walk into what she would probably call Gre'thor.
Jessy was at a console beside Gary, coordinating incoming updates from various departments and cross referencing different bits of info as quickly as she could. Leo didn’t know her too well. Maybe glimpses in the halls, maybe a shared lift once, a nod at shift change, but she moved like someone who fit this place naturally. Right now, Leo felt like a shape that didn’t quite.
Gary sat at the central console, next to where Art stood, monitoring feeds across a wall of screens. His glance lifted just enough to register Leo’s entrance. A wordless acknowledgement passed between them, subtle and professional. A quiet good, you made it. No fanfare, just a thread of silent continuity in the storm.
Leo nodded faintly in return and moved to a vacant workstation near the edge of the room. He sat. His hands found the console, and it flickered to life, eager to serve. But his brain wasn’t. Radley had told him to come back and complete his report, but given the urgency that filled the room, Leo started to glance at the streams of information bombarding his screen.
He scrolled through, finding readouts on various Plasma readings, Deck activity, Structural stability, Power fluctuations. The noise of it washed over him like static. He blinked harshly before he scrolled again.
You have a job to do, his thoughts whispered. So do it.
But the weight of everything, the fire, the bodies, the sounds, the faces he couldn’t remember the names of. It all pressed in like vacuum pressure. His breathing was slow. Dull. He felt cold in places he shouldn’t be.
Then, like a sudden electric shock up his spine and into his brain, something on the screen snapped him back into reality. All his worries and concerns, even his doubts and self made burdens that weigh heavy on his head, were slammed into a storage box in his mind and locked away, to hopefully be dealt with later.
His heart dropped and his breathing stopped for a moment.
The ship lurched. Just slightly but enough that his chair shifted. A mechanical groan rose somewhere deep in the bulkhead, the soft whine of strained systems giving way to something closer to a shriek. Leo froze and then flicked through the readouts again to confirm what he’d seen.
Blank. Then flickers. A moment of clarity. And then blank again.
He lifted his head, his face turned grey with shock and turned to face the centre of the room where d’Tor’an stood commanding the chaos.
“Chief” he shouted, his voice clear despite the energy coursing through the room, “I think we’re losing containment over the hull breach. Force fields are… faltering, maybe offline, Sensors just dropped. It’s… it's where. There's people down there.”
The words hung in the air, sharp and immediate.
Whatever else was happening, this couldn’t be ignored.
== Tag d'Tor'an, Security & NRC's ==
== GM Input - A) Can I get clarification please, Regarding Bridge post #84, If the forcefield around the hull breach is failing or has actually failed and B) again Regarding Bridge post #84, where the sensors screens (on the bridge) had gone blank, was it a specific sensor or all sensors please.