Rene saw it too. A split-second later than Courfeyrac had, once the word 'not' hit the air, already terse with energy. His hands were forward, knuckles white around the bannister of the upper bridge of the deck, hands torn from the sensor readings where he'd been trying to figure out matter emissions from the anomaly, fingers holding tight when Enjolras yelled for them to brace themselves.
He knew his stomach was going to lurch before it did. Knowing couldn't have prepared him for it. There was a blinding light, blue in element and so hot and searing that it burned white through his closed eyes, as the ship emitted phaser beams and warp particles... at the wrong angle. They swept back along the anomaly, broadsiding it with terrible force, rather than propelling into it. The hull buckled, red alert seethed. He heard bodies hit the floor, felt the heat on his skin from an explosion along the right where the consoles must have overheated...
He didn't know when he hit the floor himself, but he remembered getting up, gravity swaying and sagging around his field of vision as he pushed to fight against it to stay upright. Vaguely, he felt something stinging along his cheek, faint bleeding against his collar bone, and one wrist felt a little bit tricky-- but he was whole. Uninjured, ready, on his feet, thinking.
He took in the scene.
To the front, there were the swelling curves of the anomaly as it began to shut in on itself, beautiful and terrible. To the left, he spotted Jehan crawling back into his seat with a startled look, tousled, but not harmed. He would have looked for Enjolras next, taken full sizing of him, if Jehan hadn't paused halfway into his seat, staring hard to the right with suddenly wide, horried eyes.
Combeferre turned.
The minor explosion had come from the main systems consol. Navigation and Weapons. Bahorel was slumped to the side of his own chair, face down. The computer monitor smoked where the screen lay, cracked. Beside him, slumped against the super-heated, sparking conn was Courfeyrac. He noted the blood matting one side of his hair and felt his own go cold.
"Engineering to bridge--"
Feuilly's voice cut in against the mental noise. As he delivered a chilling status report, Combeferre didn't hesitate to get to work on his own. He tapped his badge.
"Feuilly, hold. Spare some of the life support from deck six--" He could see on a blinking monitor that that sector, luckily mainly housing auxiliary quarters and thus none of the crew at the moment, had been severely compromised in the move, "--to get transport back online. Two to beam directly to sick bay, from bridge. Get warp core integrity back. I'm going to perform a manual override on navigation right now to get us held still. We're still at a drift. I'll be fiddling with impulse up here, you work on containment; and get me that beam-down. Now."
Feuilly didn't halt for a moment in his reply.
"Affirmative, Commander." And cut out.
It was but a moment later, Rene still looking on at them, that Courfeyrac and Bahorel faded in a blue glimmer of light, and were gone. Bridge crew moved in to settle the fire, and only then did Combeferre move back to his own console, setting the manual overrides in to figure out where in space they were, how far from earth, and what percentage of impulse it would take to get the ship to stop its axis spin with the warm core offline.
He tried, for the moment, to focus on duty. Not on the bad feeling that was growing, blooming, redoubling in the pit of his stomach. And not on Jehan, who was half-heartedly trying to patch through a distress call on Federation lines, while simultaneously trying to hide the call from unsecure networks... hands shaking, eyes red, and gaze constantly flicking to Enjolras. Breathing just the faintest bit ragged with worry.
Who could possibly brace themselves for what had just happened?
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2013-11-09 05:09 am (UTC)He knew his stomach was going to lurch before it did. Knowing couldn't have prepared him for it. There was a blinding light, blue in element and so hot and searing that it burned white through his closed eyes, as the ship emitted phaser beams and warp particles... at the wrong angle. They swept back along the anomaly, broadsiding it with terrible force, rather than propelling into it. The hull buckled, red alert seethed. He heard bodies hit the floor, felt the heat on his skin from an explosion along the right where the consoles must have overheated...
He didn't know when he hit the floor himself, but he remembered getting up, gravity swaying and sagging around his field of vision as he pushed to fight against it to stay upright. Vaguely, he felt something stinging along his cheek, faint bleeding against his collar bone, and one wrist felt a little bit tricky-- but he was whole. Uninjured, ready, on his feet, thinking.
He took in the scene.
To the front, there were the swelling curves of the anomaly as it began to shut in on itself, beautiful and terrible. To the left, he spotted Jehan crawling back into his seat with a startled look, tousled, but not harmed. He would have looked for Enjolras next, taken full sizing of him, if Jehan hadn't paused halfway into his seat, staring hard to the right with suddenly wide, horried eyes.
Combeferre turned.
The minor explosion had come from the main systems consol. Navigation and Weapons. Bahorel was slumped to the side of his own chair, face down. The computer monitor smoked where the screen lay, cracked. Beside him, slumped against the super-heated, sparking conn was Courfeyrac. He noted the blood matting one side of his hair and felt his own go cold.
"Engineering to bridge--"
Feuilly's voice cut in against the mental noise. As he delivered a chilling status report, Combeferre didn't hesitate to get to work on his own. He tapped his badge.
"Feuilly, hold. Spare some of the life support from deck six--" He could see on a blinking monitor that that sector, luckily mainly housing auxiliary quarters and thus none of the crew at the moment, had been severely compromised in the move, "--to get transport back online. Two to beam directly to sick bay, from bridge. Get warp core integrity back. I'm going to perform a manual override on navigation right now to get us held still. We're still at a drift. I'll be fiddling with impulse up here, you work on containment; and get me that beam-down. Now."
Feuilly didn't halt for a moment in his reply.
"Affirmative, Commander." And cut out.
It was but a moment later, Rene still looking on at them, that Courfeyrac and Bahorel faded in a blue glimmer of light, and were gone. Bridge crew moved in to settle the fire, and only then did Combeferre move back to his own console, setting the manual overrides in to figure out where in space they were, how far from earth, and what percentage of impulse it would take to get the ship to stop its axis spin with the warm core offline.
He tried, for the moment, to focus on duty. Not on the bad feeling that was growing, blooming, redoubling in the pit of his stomach. And not on Jehan, who was half-heartedly trying to patch through a distress call on Federation lines, while simultaneously trying to hide the call from unsecure networks... hands shaking, eyes red, and gaze constantly flicking to Enjolras. Breathing just the faintest bit ragged with worry.
Who could possibly brace themselves for what had just happened?