A/n: Wrote this awhile back. But only now looked at it again and decided it was okay. Enjoy.
Falling
The deck heaved; metal rifted apart with an unearthly wail. Debris flew; circuits and electrical components sparked and spontaneously combusted.
The ship's bridge imploded.
The two forward consoles were instantly gone in a flurry of shattered glass, its occupants' torn and tattered bodies thrown violently outside and off the tilting deck.
This image filled the Captain's vision. Then something smashed into his back, flinging him to the deck. For a brief moment there was pain, and then all feeling to his lower body was severed.
Cortes fought nausea, and managed to look up. The entire front of the bridge was gone. There was now nothing there but sky, and hanging there the burning bulk of Puerto Angel. It appeared to list, as if at any moment ready to fall from the sky.
In reality, it was the Saint Nazaire that was slowly tilting to the side, and now beginning to slip slowly away from Puerto Angel.
Cortes tried to reach for the wheel. The Saint Nazaire had to get back to help the occupants of the burning bloc. But it was too far away, and he slipped back to the deck with a moan.
All around him metal groaned. The ship's engines wailed. The Saint Nazaire was dying in pain.
Amongst all the noise, Cortes was unable to know what was going on around him, but then he felt a hand on his arm.
"Cortes… I…" Cheng knelt beside him, tears staining his cheeks as he coughed and choked on the smoke and dust.
Cortes found the strength to drag his body upwards, and grabbed Cheng by the shoulders so hard he made the boy sob. "There's still a Mosquito in the hold! Get out of here before the ship falls apart!"
"I can't leave you, you'll die!"
"Go!" Cortes snarled, shoving Cheng away from himself. Then he collapsed back to the deck.
Cheng stared at the man's broken body for a moment, his bottom lip shaking.
"Please go…" Cortes begged, too weak now to do anything more.
Cheng sat up from where he'd fallen and threw his arms around Cortes' neck. "I'm sorry," he sobbed. "I love you…" Then he stepped away, turned and ran. He didn't look back.
Cortes watched him until he'd disappeared from his field of vision, then he turned his gaze back out through the front of the bridge. Puerto Angel had gone from view, but the Captain still struggled to cling to consciousness for a moment more. Cheng had to escape. Then he saw a small Mosquito fly away from the ship. He let his body sag back to the deck; Cheng would be okay. But he had failed Puerto Angel. Cortes closed his eyes and blacked out.
The Saint Nazaire plummeted. No one really ever knew if it fell for miles on miles until eventually being crushed by gravity forces near the core, or simply smashed to pieces on a lower level bloc. Either way, the ship passed from sight.
But it did not pass from memory. The rebellion did not fall as the Sphere had intended. A directed hit at what they believed to be the movement's core had not had the same effect as it did on Marcus' rebellion all those years ago. This time, hope had not been placed in a single man, ship, bloc or prophecy.
The rebellion fought on, many remembering the fall of Puerto Angel and the Saint Nazaire, using those memories to rally their strength against the Sphere. A smaller number remembered those they'd lost in that battle, and how they'd never given up on freeing Skyland, even until the end. Those memories made those few fight all the harder still.
In the end, the Sphere never really knew what hit them.