Episode 26. We Read You

It will soon be three days since we left Earth.

Three days I have kept myself awake.

To stay alert, I regularly force myself through a few stretches and short physical exercises. I have also authorized Ensign Flores to play music on the bridge, just to keep our minds sharp.

The atmosphere is surprisingly pleasant, considering the situation.

Even if, let us be honest... my officer's musical tastes are... how should I put it... particular.

A slight smile escapes me. Brief. Fleeting.

Then it disappears.

Something is wrong.

It is not an alarm.

Not a clear jolt.

Just a diffuse sensation. Insidious.

Then it grows stronger.

A tiny imbalance. As if gravity were hesitating.

My body becomes heavier in jolts, an intermittent pressure crushing me toward the floor before suddenly letting go. I feel as if I am being pulled down... then released. Again. And again.

Instinctively, I straighten up.

The bridge lights barely flicker. Almost imperceptibly.

But I saw it.

And I am not the only one.

Corda's frown confirms that he feels the same thing. That he, too, is fighting this strange sensation that should not exist.

Then comes a second jolt. Sharper.

Not a classic mechanical vibration.

A metallic shudder rising through the floor and running through the vessel's structure.

Something happened.

I open my mouth to question my pilot.

He gets there first.

Brutally.

Flores immediately gets back to work at her console. She exchanges a few quiet words, then raises her head toward me.

A few seconds pass in tense silence.

Then the main screen finally lights up.

Flores looks up at me.

The drone begins a smooth rotation.

Its sensor slowly sweeps over the damaged sections of the vessel.

The image trembles slightly, riddled with interference, but it is enough.

The Mercator hardly looks like a vessel anymore.

Its hull is blackened, cracked, weakened to the extreme.

In places, it looks ready to give way. Armor plates have been torn off, exposing the vessel's internal structure... like the broken bones of a mutilated giant.

And then...

The obvious hits us.

The drone performs a smooth maneuver, sliding slowly along the hull.

The image degrades for a moment, saturated by residual radiation... then stabilizes.

The other side of the vessel finally appears.

I nod, already measuring the consequences.

Even if the trajectory holds, every correction will cost us more. And we are almost dry.

In other words, gas stations are not exactly common in these orbits.

My gaze sweeps across the bridge.

Everyone is at their station. Tired, tense... but focused.

The Mercator is still standing.

For how long?

Then, without warning, a euphoric cry splits the silence.