>>5958564You are surprised when the hatch hisses open at your approach — the Chief Engineer must have managed to prevent the WEAVERs from sealing it off after all. You are greeted by the harsh buzz of power tools and a mess of bulkhead shavings surrounded by puddles of leaked fluid. A burly looking Marrok engineer is kneeling next to a series of rents in the bulkhead wall, grinding away at the last of the jagged edges. You are taken aback by the strange nature of the damage and subsequent repair job — the WEAVER’s seeming to have been forced to retreat and apply patch plates from within the confines of their secretive lair. The creeping expansion of the void core’s restricted areas halted, at least for the time being.
Gawking at the damage, you see that four long, parallel gashes are spread about a metre apart, tearing through wall, ceiling and floor alike. You can even tell that some structural elements of the wall have been shredded through as if they were mere fabric. Grey, translucent fluid seeps slowly from patchwork seams but it appears the plates have managed to stem the flow to a trickle. You eye the congealing puddles dubiously, not quite sure if you want to know its composition.
<span class="mu-i">At least it doesn't stink,</span> You note. <span class="mu-i">So probably not sewage…</span>
“What the hell happened here?” You wave to catch the engineer’s attention.
The Marrok man turns to look at you, powering down his tool. Recognising your officer’s pips, he retracts his helmet and chirps questioningly.
“Sorry sir, say again? I didn't quite catch that.” His translator repeats after a slight delay in an even tone.
“What caused this?” You ask again, gesturing to the damage the little, green, lizard-like man is busy cleaning up. The engineer shrugs helplessly, setting down the grinder and standing up to face you. You glance at his id tag — ‘Emett Arstron - DC Team B2’ — as he sketches a quick salute.
“Beats me, Sir. Who knows what crazy wyrm-shit those WEAVERs have going on in there.” A scowl tugs at his scaly lips as he jabs a thumb over his shoulder in disgust.
“All I know is the little wretches are a pain in my tail! My watch was meant to end five minutes ago but the Chief called me in to — and I quote — ‘just buff out a scratch’. He claws the air quotes vehemently, as if he’d like nothing better than to be scratching out a certain senior officer’s eyes instead. He suddenly shifts his gaze nervously from you to the open hatchway behind you, as if seeing it for the first time.
“Uhhh, he also said to lock that behind him.” He trills slightly in distress, “Don’t go telling him I let you in here, yeah?” He shifts uncomfortably, rubbing a hand through the spines on the back of his neck as he grins sheepishly. “Best you get going before he comes back, Sir. For my sake at least?”
