Breach

Amber lights danced in strained, rhythmic flares.

“Consciousness detected,” a faint voice hummed softly.

Captain Ward squeezed his eyes tighter, the lights sparked across his eyelids. His head throbbed with intense pain that ricocheted to the tips of his toes and back again.

Despite the crushing pressure behind his eyes, he cautiously opened them, drawing slow, agonizing breaths. Several seconds passed before his eyes began to focus on what lay above him. Though he didn’t recognize it at first, the panels of the Wayfarer's infirmary ceiling hung overhead. Bathed in a warm glow of emergency lighting, with a divot in the far corner, the room appeared somehow bruised.

Without moving, he inventoried his senses. A metallic taste in his mouth. Pressure behind his eyes and temples. Tightness around his scalp.

Strangest of all was a faint vibration humming beneath him. Not the one he had come accustomed to after nearly a year aboard the ship. This one was uneven. Compensating.

He turned his head to the side. Pain flared up once again, sharp but contained. Manageable.

The bed beside him had its divider curtain pulled closed, but Ward could still hear the whirring of several machines running in overlapping rhythms.

“It appears Jeannie was right,” a voice stole his attention away, “You are awake.”

Dr. Ramani stepped into view. Her eyes were rimmed red, and her hair tied back tighter than he had ever seen it before. Instead of checking on him first, she moved to the monitor beside him. Only then did he notice the dark stains on the rolled sleeves of her coat.

“How long?” Ward asked, trying to lift his head. He barely made it off the pillow before the pain forced him flat again.

“Don’t sit up yet,” she answered flatly, still looking at the monitor as she jotted down notes.

“That didn’t answer my question.”

The doctor sighed softly before stepping over to him.

“Fourteen hours,” she replied softly, placing a hand to the side of his head and gently adjusting it as she continued, “You’ve been unconscious for most of it. Concussion. Deep scalp laceration. I’ve sealed it. 6 stitches. No skull fractures that I can see without imaging.”

“Imaging?”

“The system is offline,” she answered, slowly turning his head to the side, her eyes locked on his. It forced him to keep focus on her as he head was shifted away, “Like most of the ship.”

“What happened?”

Ramani released his head and returned to the monitor. She hesitated a moment before answering.

“Guess you hit your head right away. It’s a good thing Keller found you when he did.”

“Ramani.” His voice was strained, though mostly from how dry it was.

Her fingers tightened around the clipboard as she pursed her lips tightly. Crossing her arms over her chest, the physician gave way to the officer.

“We still don’t know. Something hit us. No prior sensor readings. It struck our port side stern at a velocity high enough to breach the hull all the way to Section F. We lost pressure in three compartments before we were able to seal bulkheads.”

“And the crew?”

The doctor paused, not moving.

“Five are MIA. They were in Section E at time of impact.”

Ward knew exactly what that meant. Presumed ejection into the vacuum.

“Ibarra is to your left,” Ramani motioned before continuing her notes, “Otherwise the rest are just a little bruised. Walking wounded, but otherwise functional.”

“What happened to Ibarra?” Ward lifted himself just enough to try to peer around the veil between them.

“I said don’t sit up yet,” the doctor replied, capping her pen. She reached out with one hand to push the Captain back down.

But she froze when he wrapped his hand around her wrist, stopping her with almost no effort.

“And I said ‘What happened to her?’”

Ramani pulled her wrist free, nursing the joint carefully before answering. “Crush injury. She was in the storage hold during the collision. The racking couldn’t withstand the force.”

As she spoke, Ward shifted his weight and swung his feet from the bed to the floor. The room swayed for a moment before stabilizing. With as much effort as he could muster, he reached out to push the curtain aside.

Before his fingers could touch the thin blue fabric, a small woman stepped in front of him, her arms spread wide.

“Let her rest.” Ramani’s eyes narrowed, “I’ve just gotten her stabilized. She’s in a lot of pain and needs her rest.”

Ward wanted to insist, but instead let his arm fall to his side.

“Alright,” his head sank slightly, “You are the doctor around here.”

“That’s right,” she sighed, lowering her arms. “And the doctor’s orders are for you to rest as well.”

“Perhaps…”

A pause.

“Or perhaps you should go see your crew first.”

Ward looked up, curiosity tightening his brow. Ramani’s back was to him as she spoke.

“If you can’t stay still long enough to rest, then go see your crew. They need you.”

It took a second for the Captain to process her words. He chuckled quietly and placed his hands on his knees. “Right as always, Doctor.”

With that he tried to rise up onto his feet.

Pain coursed through his body once more. A moment later, he found himself back on the bed.

“Just give me a minute,” he muttered, “Still getting my sea legs.”

***

The halls of the Wayfarer were bathed in amber emergency lights. Service pipes lining the walls and ceiling cast pocketed shadows that concealed turns and branching pathways nose to stern.

Ward braced himself against the crutch Ramani provided. She had practically thrust it into his hands before shooing him out when he refused to rest. And so he hobbled forward on unsteady steps.

The crutch felt cumbersome, even more than his pride wanted to tolerate. But he couldn’t walk a straight line without it. It felt as if the deck plates shifted subtly beneath him, likely the results of a generator struggling to maintain stable gravity.

As he ambled his way towards the central hub, he noticed the exposed wiring dangling from stripped ceiling panels. The air felt stale and tacky in his throat. Recycled one too many times with a compromised filter and refresher system.

He turned a corner and entered a wide cylindrical corridor that curved so far it vanished from sight. The dim emergency glow gave way to piercing white ambient light that seemed to emanate from everywhere at once. The air hummed and pulsed with several processes running in layered synchronizations.

The Core, the central hub of the Wayfarer. If all roads led to Rome, then all corridors on the ship led here.

“Good Morning, Jeannie,” Ward called, continuing forward while shielding his eyes from the glare.

“Captain,” a soft feminine voice emanated from the Core. Its tone was firm but warm, almost maternal to his ears. “The time is currently 1317 Ship Time. The proper phrase is ‘Good afternoon”.”

“I know, Jeannie,” the officer sighed, stopping to regard the massive core that governed the ship, “But I just woke up, so give me a break, will you?”

“Understood, Captain. However, I still recommend a correction of word choice in future interactions.”

“What are you, my mom?” he scoffed, swinging his crutch forward again, “But first, Jeannie. Where is Keller located?”

“First Mate Keller is currently located in Section C. Do you require more precise coordinates?”

“No, thank you, Jeannie,” Ward waved over his shoulder as he moved on, “I can manage from here.”

It didn’t take long for him to find him.

In the central corridor running the length of Section C, a long work table had been set up. Paper schematics and handwritten notes were spread across its surface. Above it hovered a projected geometric grid, several nodes highlighted in red.

At one end stood a slender blond man, arm raised and finger extended toward one of the glowing points. He was mid-discussion with another crewman..

“Jeannie is still reading leaks in these sectors. These should be our priority.”

“That’s exploratory,” the other man countered, crossing his arms. His coveralls were unzipped and tied around his waist, straining against his swollen midsection. A grease stained under shirt clung to him with sweat. “We need to focus on making sure everything is fully reinforced here before shifting our focus.”

“Petrov,” Keller exhaled, “I think we have this area reasonably stabilized. Can’t we just–”

He was cut as the larger man turned towards the clinking of Ward’s approaching crutch.

“Well, good morning, Princess,” he chuckled dryly, using a dangling coverall sleeve to dab at his meaty brow.

The younger man immediately sprang up and snapped into a sharp salute.

“Captain!”

“At ease, Keller,” Ward answered, lifting a hand in mild protest. “You’ll strain something.”

Keller lowered his arm but remained rigid. “Sir. Good to have you back on your feet.”

Ward gave him a brief nod, this shifted his attention to the other man, who now stood with his arms loosely folded, expression flat but watchful. “You as well, Petrov.”

“Sorry there, Cap’n,” Petrov tilted his head slightly, “Were we disturbing your beauty sleep?”

“Petrov!” Keller warned under his breath.

“What?” Petrov shot back.

Ward rubbed at his temple, then let his hand fall. “I’ve gotten enough sleep. Thank you for your concerns.”

“Debatable.” Petrov’s retort was gruff, though even Ward knew it wasn’t meant to be as abrasive as it sounded.

Keller, though, shot Petrov a look and shifted as if to respond. But Ward’s hand on his shoulder stopped him.

“That’s enough.” Ward spoke, voice steady despite the fatigue beneath it, “Jeannie. All hands to the Rec Hall. 5 minutes.”

“Yes, Captain.”

Keller straightened again, this time a little less rigid, more composed. “I’ll make sure they’re ready.”

Petrov pushed his weight off the table, “They’ll come,” he said simply, heading for the hatch.

Ward watched him go, his gaze sharpening, “Five minutes, Petrov.”

The larger man held his stare for a beat, then turned away. “Wouldn’t miss it.”

The hatch cycled shut, and silence settled into the space Petrov left behind.

After a moment, Ward glanced at Keller. “You as well.”

“Yes, sir.”

Ward waited until he was alone. He exhaled through his nose, longer than he intended, then silently followed them out.