It was a strange thing; the way that relative peace could turn to chaos within the blink of an eye. An uneventful journey became a rollercoaster as the ship shuddered once, twice, and was then reduced to what its pilot could describe only as 'suffering a fit'. Thrown from one place to another so quickly that she could barely grasp a rail or a strut, his terrified companion yelled for him to do something, but like her he was trying to cling to the nearest stationary object.
As movement ceased and the ship groaned, they found themselves lulled into a sense of security that was short-lived. It began again, stronger than before, and with it came a screeching akin to nails down a chalkboard, amplified into pain instead of mere discomfort. The young woman didn't know whether to hold her hands to her ears or to cling to the handrail. Her decision was made for her when the room spun violently, loosening her hold (or potential hold) on either one, and she crashed head first into the base of the control panels.
He shouted for her to try and stay calm, a petition that was met with such colourful language he swore that rainbows would pour from her mouth. Grabbing at levers, swiping at switches, he attempted to bring the ship under control, but to no avail. All that he did seemed only to worsen the problem, and eventually he decided that the best either could do would be to hold on tight, and ride it out.
Bleeps came from a monitor above his head, and he struggled through the noise and convulsions of the ship to kneel and look up at the readouts now stringing across the screen. He tried to make sense of the impossible equations and predictions it was blinking at him, but it was all so hard to process at once.
"STOP!" he screamed, knowing it would do no good, but doing it anyway.
But, both to his surprise and his companion's, it did stop, and all fell still. The screen went blank, and he realised that they had landed somewhere, but where exactly was a mystery. He'd have bet his right hand that it wasn't their original destination, something that ordinarily would have been nothing - an occupational hazard that poked its head above the parapets every third or fourth trip or so - but one that did not inspire confidence this time around.
But then neither did the almighty bang that followed.