The voices of men could be heard as Elias rediscovered a sound other than his own breathing. Idle chatter about shifts and broken power cutters drew close.
"I'm telling you, man. A cutter is going to take forever to get into this thing—that mark."
"Yeah, I see it. Don't start."
"I'm just saying."
"You say that word, and something breaks."
"…Captain's still gonna want eyes on it."
"Good point. Send over a pic so we can get to work. "
"Aaand done."
The sound of cutters bit the hull.
It was time to move.
Elias pulled open his suit's wrist terminal.
[TRIGGER: THERMAL CHARGE]
[CONFIRM: YES / NO]
~TSSS~
A torch-like flame erupted from the left wing of the shuttle, quickly blooming into a shower of hot countermeasure flares that loosed themselves into the confined space.
"Fire!"
Muffled panic filled the hangar; alarms sounded as it sprayed yellow fire-retardant foam from all directions, filling the room with a haze of mist and smoke.
Coughing and swearing ensued as the fire died down.
Elias was already gone.
By the time the foam settled, he was already in the corridors.
His boots clicked against the metal grating beneath him.
Dingy corridors of steel and exposed wiring narrowed. He squeezed past hot pipes.
Pausing his advance, he saw a large junction box fixed to the wall, dozens of conduits branching into the floor and ceiling.
Charge set.
Remote activation.
He turned away—
The hatch behind him cycled open too fast.
A driver-shot cracked.
A pipe burst behind him.
Metal screamed, and something punched into his left shoulder hard enough to twist him sideways. Fragments ricocheted down the corridor.
Elias pivoted on instinct and fired through the opening without looking. The hatch slammed shut.
Silence.
[SUIT BREACH: LEFT SHOULDER]
[PRESSURE LOSS: MINOR]
[SEALANT REQUIRED]
Elias didn't look at the wound. He reached back, snapped the sealant patch from his belt, and slapped it over the torn fabric. The suit stiffened as the compound spread and cured, pressure stabilizing a heartbeat later.
[BREACH SEALED]
Blood was someone else's problem.
Keep moving.
The corridor opened suddenly, wider than the rest. A junction.
Two guards stood by a sealed door.
Elias tapped his wrist terminal.
The charge on the box went first—lights died, gravity hiccuped, the deck shuddered as the junction screamed and failed.
The walls hummed as the ship fought for a new equilibrium; guards left the floor, confused in the sudden change.
Elias fired once.
The first man went down without a sound, momentum carrying him into the bulkhead.
The second froze, half a breath too long, weapon still coming up.
Elias adjusted and fired again.
Gravity returned. Two bodies hit the deck.
It was over before they could recognize what was happening.
The sealed door opened, revealing terminals spanning the walls with a diagram of the ship's arteries.
The Corridor Control Room.
Red lines across the pathways indicated a sealed-off corridor.
He was reaching for the controls when his mind became foggy.
He checked oxygen. Too low.
When the visor to his helmet lifted, the smell of old machinery and oil filled his nostrils.
The used O2 tank released with a hiss, dropping with a dull clank, rolling in the uneven gravity.
As he swapped it for the new one in his bag.
A crackling sound in the ceiling opened, causing him to flinch mid-task, then continued as he listened.
"Attention, all crew.
We have confirmed multiple fatalities in processing hangar zero-six.
This is not a drill.
The Judge is aboard.
Neutralize the intruder."
Elias took a pull from his doser before sealing the visor shut. He appraised the terminal.
A forgotten emergency protocol stuck to the screen like a prayer for a dying ship.
A double-edged blade.
[ALL CORRIDORS: CLOSE/OPEN]
~beep~
The door opened behind him, and the door after that as well.
Confirming his theory.
He tapped his wrist terminal again. Listing a single available breaching charge.
The one wired to the guts of a military-grade warhead, hidden in his crippled shuttle.
Finger hovering over the button.
~click~
The ship rumbled.
The ship exhaled oxygen into the void, air tearing through open corridors and ducts, then force slammed home. Bulkheads bowed and split as the shockwave sprinted down the hull. Gravity died mid-step. Men and tools lifted, colliding in sudden silence as sound arrived late and wrong.
The lights failed in pieces. Alarms contradicted themselves and went quiet. Somewhere deep inside, mass shifted, metal screamed, and the ship twisted just enough to break. Then there was nothing. No hum. No pull. The warhead didn't kill the ship. It crippled the spine.
Court's in session.