Walsh woke in a daze and stared into the pitch blackness. His floating head sensation didn’t help him remember where he was.
With a rush of panic, he tried to sit up, but it was a bad idea. He touched his head and felt blood coming from the base of his skull. Something must have hit him. A Tasla bot weapon maybe. He’d better get back in the pilot seat and fire back. Blindly, he groped around for anything that could orient him. An unexpected object startled him. What in the universe? Feeling smooth hardwood triggered something in his brain. The bridge of Chiron. As reality came flooding back, he felt a great sense of relief. He’d finished his military service in the war years ago. His relief was short-lived when he realized his injury wasn’t the only reason he felt light-headed. The war was over, but there was now a giant battle to win.
The artificial atmosphere was going. Ears were popping and specialists were calling in from all over the ship. A few were starting to panic. Something had to be done.
Carefully this time, he sat up and felt around. He didn’t seem to be anywhere near the command chair. Still shaken from his mental trip into the past, and faint from loss of blood, he took a couple of deep breaths. It wouldn’t do to let the crew know their Captain was having delusions. His voice was much stronger than he felt.
There was a stirring nearby. “Here, Captain. I seem to be OK. What’s your condition?”
“I’m functional,” Walsh answered. “More importantly, we have to get emergency power going. Can you call Roed on your Pocod? I have an injury slowing me down.”
“An injury?” Heather said with alarm. “I need to look at it.”
“After you call Engineering,” Walsh said firmly.
“I’m doing that as I make my way over to you.” She felt around in the pitch black, darker than any night on Earth could be. “McTavish to Engineering.” There was a brief pause, then, “Roed here, ma’am.” He sounded harried.
“We have no power on the bridge.”
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