Battlefield: Future Tense

- 1 -

“Lieutenant Hudson, take the helm!”

Captain Scott Raynes coughed convulsively, choking on a lungful of acrid smoke the shout had cost him.

A smoky haze filled the air around him, the result of melting plastics and burning conduits. Ahead, a shadowy figure moved toward the helm station. It might have been Hudson, but he could not tell. His eyes refused to focus, stinging from the acrid haze. He blinked away tears, but it did not help.

At least someone is trying to reach the helm . . .

If any klaxons were going off, he could not hear them over the groans of tortured metal and fracturing polymers.

He rose, wiping the sticky residue of blood from his fingers. Martinez was injured, but Raynes had felt a strong pulse at the man’s throat. He would be okay until medical help arrived.

“Engine Room!” he yelled into the intercom. “Engineering!”

Bursts of sputtering electronic static answered him. Raynes resisted the urge to slam a fist against the comm panel controls.

“Tactical!”

Through a brief thinning of the drifting haze, he saw Rossi still at the main Tactical station. The man’s face was streaked with perspiration and grime, but he appeared to be otherwise unharmed. Raynes was not sure how long they might remain that way if they continued to breath what he was certain were toxic fumes from the hull ruptures.

“Targeting systems offline!” Rossi called out. “Guidance systems have been compromised!”

Raynes nodded to indicate that he had heard; his throat was still raw from his earlier shout. He moved toward the helm.

Hudson bent over the station, her hands working its controls furiously. Raynes had never seen her at the controls of this ship, but her skills at the helm of seagoing vessels were renowned.

She shook her head vigorously as he approached.

“I’ve got no control of anything,” she reported through clenched teeth as she continued to try to coax some response from the ship’s drive systems. “The aft port thruster comes and goes, but that’s it.”

Raynes’ mouth tightened.

Great, we can spin around in circles . . . slowly.

“Karden!” Raynes called out, looking for the diminutive specialist among the debris.

“Yes, sir?” came a response from near the shattered sensor station.

“Try to get down the Main Engineering, if you can, and let me know what’s happening down there.”

“Yes, sir!”

“No heroics,” Raynes warned him. “If the route’s blocked, don’t try to force your way through.”

Karden nodded his agreement. Both men knew the dangers of a compromised hull.

Raynes waited for a tense moment while Karden opened the main hatch. His concern grew as he watched as the specialist manually forced the hatch open. He breathed a sigh of relief a moment later when all of the air was not sucked from the bridge.

Karden closed the hatch behind him.

Smart man, Raynes thought. No sense taking chances.