Darkness. Wires stuck out everywhere; the console room was littered with various bits of technology. The time rotor's green glow was the only illumination in the cavernous space, other than the dim flickering of the scanner, which did not reach into the shadowed fringe.

A man leaned against the screen, a pair of glasses perched on his nose, his hair in disarray. His face was completely expressionless, his eyes hard. Abruptly, he broke the silence by slamming his fist into the screen and shouting, voice raw.

The ship steadfastly refused to move, the data remaining unchanged—no cracks.

He broke.