>>5223610>>5223611>>5223613>>5223627>>5223732>>5223757>>5224062>"Gully needs my help.">"Don't ask me that because I don't know the answer to either.">>???…
“…read me…”
… …
“…not responding…time before we…”
… … …
“GODDAMIT, UNAMI, WAKE THE FUCK UP!”
…!
The dim, low-level emergency light of the cockpit stabs into your eyelids. The burden of consciousness returns too quickly, then violently ebbs just as fast. It feels like someone repeatedly driving a heated knife in and out of your frontal lobe.
Your left eye opens. The other one doesn’t. All you see is a small, sliver of light before something seeps in, and instinct and pain forces it shut.
Everything hurts, but nothing feels broken, numb or otherwise unresponsive.
You wrench your hand free, and use the back of your sleeve to wipe whatever it is blocking your eye. It comes back a stick, bloody red, and you think to yourself that it’s better that you’re bleeding outward than inward. But you have to repeat the motion twice before you’re able to see completely. And even then, it isn’t all that much.
The interior of the cockpit has gone dark, save for the dim red light of emergency power. Everything that isn’t essential to life support is offline. Your camera monitors are offline, and the fist-sized viewport is completely obscured by mud. Coughing harshly, you try to reorient yourself and even out your breath. It takes a few moments, and you’re spitting blood out with every breath.
“…HOPI?” you whisper, straining to reach the box that houses the A.I. core. “HOPI, are you awake?”
No response.
“Ah, fucking hell…” Groping for the TALK button, you hiss out, “…Sybil?”
“…!”
There’s way too much noise on her end of the line. Like she’s in the middle of a busy intersection. Twenty people seem to be talking at once, voices you’re only slightly able to attach to faces and memories.
“EVERYONE SHUT THE FUCK UP!” A beat. Then: “Razor, come in, Razor. This is Sybil! Do you read me?”
“This is Razor, reading you,” you cough out, “…reading you loud and clear, Sybil.”
Aalto breaks radio protocol by transmitting a very elaborate and unladylike swear. “About fucking time, jumbo! Scared us half to death when you weren’t picking up the line!”
You shake your head, fighting off a sudden wave of nausea. “How long was I out?”
“Just a little under an hour, you jackass,” she snarls.
Her voice is angry. Not an ounce of concern as much as annoyance that you didn’t respond immediately. How wonderfully typical of her.
“Razor,” the sharp voice of Elishani cuts through the din like a hot knife through butter. His voice is calm, but it’s the tersest you’ve ever heard. “What’s your current status?”
“I’m fine, sir," you reply, "But the main reactor’s out, running on emergency. Won’t be able to get a full report until I restart both the PUEXO and HOPI.”
(cont.)
