Last Call -- Chapter 9: Perhaps, Possibly, Maybe
Two hours and rapidly counting down.
The thought made Gideon wish he could crawl back into bed and sleep into
next week. Sighing hard, he slouched in the padded seat he occupied in
the bullet car and closed his eyes. It didn't take imagining for
Matthew to know what the crew of the Toledo would be going through
before life support totally collapsed. As environmental controls began
to fail, the cabin temperature would decrease to an unbearable chill,
exaggerating the headaches and muscle soreness. He was certain they
were already experiencing side effects from the oxygen deprivation,
making even minor movement impossible without resulting in
breathlessness and a disorienting dizziness.
Lifting a hand, the Captain ran his fingers through his dark hair,
pausing to scratch the back of his neck. The Drakh stationed around the
Toledo had been a big enough nuisance in itself and Galen's recon on the
plasma leak made it that much more difficult.
Plasma engines worked by electrically discharging particle rich gas to
produce an enormous and very reliable thrust. Low in cost and
maintenance, these engines were used in ships such as freighters and
personal transports in a variety of different designs. But if something
happened to the ignition systems or an interruption of the particle flow
occurred, the results could be disastrous. According to what Galen
reported, it appeared to be the former in the Toledo's case, spraying
plasma through the core without being discharged. Quickly the particles
were filling the immediate space behind the engine exhaust, building a
potential for an external force to set it off. Uncontrolled, the blast
would continue to feed off the spray coming from the Toledo and backwash
into the system. The engines would be destroyed, triggering the
disintegration of the entire ship. If the crew could shut off the
particle release and drift further away from the plume, the Toledo might
have a chance; Matthew could only hope that momentum would be enough.
Light strobed behind his closed eyes, pulsing as the bullet car surged
towards its destination. The dull hum of servos and gears added to the
strange numbness he began to feel, finding the solo bullet car trip to
have an almost hypnotic effect. Within the daze, an overwhelming sense
of terror crept up on Gideon, paralyzing him in fear without warning.
His thoughts returned to the Toledo as it sat drifting helpless with
internal air at a minimum. From the safety of a ship it was easy to
forget that in the vacuum of space, not a desperate gasp of it was
breathable. The coldness was as absolute as the tremendous isolation.
A loud scream echoed in Gideon's ears, a voice cold and metallic before
it dissolved into his own desperate cry.
Matthew forced his eyes open to stare at the opened door, completely
unaware the bullet car had even stopped. It would remain open until he
decided to exit or gave it a further command, and he visibly shivered,
attempting to send his own memories back into the darkest recesses of
his mind.
A breep from his com link startled him. He slapped his hand to his
wrist. "Gideon."
"Captain, I have the Toledo on hold." Matheson replied through the com.
"Thank you, Lieutenant." Matthew was more thankful for the
interruption. "I'm almost there."
The open door greeted him again and Gideon steadied his nerves. He cut
the open link and stood slowly, moving towards the doors to pass through
them into the corridor. The narrowing hallway took him into the bridge
where Lieutenant Matheson waited.
If Matheson noticed Gideon was pale, he didn't say anything, choosing to
file it away until the time was more appropriate. He locked eyes with
the Captain once, and instantly knew things were bad and going to get
worse. A mixture of emotions flowed from Gideon, more naked than he
wanted, and the telepath respected his privacy enough not to pry.
Matthew had always been of few words and chose to share outright even
fewer.
"Sir, the co-pilot answered."
"Something happen to the pilot?" Gideon looked away finally, marching
to the command chair before sliding into it with ease.
"I'm not sure."
"Re-establish link."
"Re-establishing. Aye, sir." A small nod from Matheson gave Gideon the
go-ahead.
"Excalibur to Toledo, do you copy?"
"Copy, Excalibur." It was a nondescript male voice that replied. "I
believe we are not due for another status report for quite some time.
Is there something wrong?"
Gideon almost wanted to laugh, long and hard, at how unfair everything
in the universe rapidly appeared to be. If the co-pilot only knew how
wrong things really were, Gideon figured he would have the same
reaction.
"Unfortunately I have some bad news, Toledo. Where's the pilot? She
should hear this too."
"She is currently working on a solution to our growing life support
problem. I assure you, Excalibur, I will relay whatever the news is to
her. Please continue."
Gideon fidgeted, trying to find a more pleasant way to deliver his
information. Sugar-coated was never his style. "Some advanced
detection on our part has discovered your ship is leaking plasma."
"I understand." There was a long pause, as if the co-pilot was taking
the time to digest exactly what it was that Gideon said. "If the manual
overrides are still functioning we should be able to cut the plasma
flow, but at our current rate of speed, I am not sure if we will be far
enough from the plasma by the time you make it to us."
"How long will it take you?"
"Depends. Preferably under two hours, after which it will be
pointless." Contrary to his words, the voice did not seem disturbed.
"I will need to fully study the diagrams of this system to be sure it
can be accomplished without compromising the reactor. For all I know,
it could be the main power relay of the electrical systems."
"We have a few engineers aboard that know her design and could help. Do
you want me to contact them?"
"Thank you for the offer, Excalibur, but allow me to research on this
end first. Once I have a feel for the systems, and if I have questions,
I will contact you. As the pilot stated before, direct transmissions
drain too much from our system."
"Acknowledged. I'll have them look at the blueprints on their own in
anticipation of your questions. Is there anything else you need?"
"Negative, Excalibur. Thank you for the information. Toledo out." The
connection was terminated abruptly. Gideon turned to Matheson and
shrugged.
"Sounds like he's not overly concerned." Gideon paused, allowing
himself a small smile. "Yet, anyway."
"Should I let Chief Gomez know what's going on, sir?"
"Yes, tell him about the plasma leak and have him examine the engine
schematics for any hazards. The co-pilot may need to talk to him if
anything is unfamiliar or potentially threatening." Gideon stood from
the chair, having an urge to do something, anything, other than sit in
wait. He had a few ideas of his own on how to proceed with the rescue
if the plasma prevented and all-out attack, and those plans were
dependent on the Excalibur's resident Technomage.
"Where will you be, Captain?" Matheson asked, his commander and friend
appearing very old, worn, and tired.
"Docking bay, selling my soul to Galen." Gideon paced his way from
command, leaving what he knew would be a very puzzled first officer
behind.
The lift was occupied when Gideon passed it and quickly he backtracked,
sliding his hand between the doors. Having company was much preferable
to being alone with his thoughts. Sensing the disruption, the doors
opened again, and waited for him to step inside. Resuming, they slid
shut.
"Docking bay." He stated before nodding at the two technicians standing
beside him. They returned the favor before looking down, interested in
the comp pads and clip boards they carried as the lift descended
quickly, ultimately coming to a rest at the last deck. Matthew waited
impatiently for the doors to open, striding forward to step out when
they finally moved. He exited before they were fully open, turning his
body to squeeze through in urgency. The two hours left would quickly
dwindle to one, then to none, and the crew of the Toledo would be dead;
he had to do something to prevent that unquestionable outcome.
The hallway brought him past the observation deck overlooking the bay,
giving him a glimpse of the technicians and craft, and Galen's flyer
sitting in the middle near the atmospheric shuttles. Gideon entered an
access shaft and took the descending stairs that emptied into an
airlock. Cycled open, the hatch slid back as he approached, and he
walked into the pressurized deck of the flight bay.
It was easy to appreciate the comparative size of the Excalibur from
standing in the bay. In either direction the massive space stretched,
various crafts parked within alcoves or along the walls, anchored to the
deck with locks that fit over the landing gear. Fumes of spent fuel
wafted through the room and burned at his nostrils, the air scrubbers
working to clean it and make it viable for recycling throughout the rest
of the ship.
All reports said Galen had returned to his flyer, preferring that to
wandering the ship while waiting for Gideon to find him. The Captain
headed towards the personal craft, wondering why it always made him so
nervous. It was probably the black exterior, polished to a sheen and
extraordinarily void of detail that made the craft unnatural and
inhuman. The power globe light that illuminated the bay should have
reflected off its surface, but didn't; it merely glowed from the very
edges to look like black volcanic obsidian. The sensation reminded
Gideon too much of a similar feeling he had nearly ten years previous as
he watched an exodus of similar ships pass him by while he floated
helpless in an EVA suit.
Most ships had structural wear to their outside surfaces, pocked by
cosmic debris that scratched and pitted the smooth metal. The
Technomage's ship lacked any such signs of stress, smooth and shimmering
as if it had been recently resurfaced. Gideon was thankful it didn't
have the organic look, which appeared in his nightmares, flowing and
ebbing over the surface like rippling waves in a dark reflecting pool.
If he waited long enough, pacing around the perimeter of the ship, Galen
would appear.
Gideon's patience paid off. The ramp lowered from beneath the flyer,
silent until the bottom touched the flight deck. Illuminated stairs
disappeared into the darkened hatch and the Captain watched, boots
becoming legs, then a torso and further, as Galen descended from the
flyer.
"Can we talk?" Gideon tentatively touched the edge of the flyer's wing,
stretching above his head. Oddly it didn't feel as cold as he
suspected.
"I don't know, can we?" One look at Gideon told Galen the man wasn't in
the mood for a semantics debate. The Technomage smiled. "Oh, all
right, but kindly remove your hand from the wing. I just had it waxed
and polished to perfection."
"I need your help." Matthew did as told, resorting to put his hands in
his pockets. "I've gone over it six ways from Sunday, and I can't
figure out any other way to do it. Can you get me to the Toledo?"
"I can, but to do what, Matthew?" Galen enjoyed being obstinate, maybe
too much for Gideon's tastes.
"I've seen what your ship can do. I have every reason to suspect you
can coast under the Drakh's radar, and they'll never know you flew by.
If you can get me out there, I'll be able to pull the crew off the
ship."
"Gideon, as soon as you put one foot into space, they will detect it."
"I know that, Galen." Gideon paused, taking a deep breath. The last
time he truly trusted the Technomage, his ship was shanghaied, its
movements controlled by the navcom on the flyer as they searched for the
Well of Forever. "That's why I need you as well."
"Oh, Matthew, I'm touched." The smile on Galen's face widened to his
eyes and became wicked. Gideon's gaze narrowed. "But I will confess
right now, I am awfully allergic to EVA suits."
"That's not what I meant, and you know it." He scolded. "You must have
something in your big bag of Technomage tricks you could use to create
the same sensor dampening shield around me that's around your ship."
"Sometimes you put too much faith in my abilities." The bitter words
slipped out before Galen realized it and the smile leached from his
face. Gideon had a feeling it wasn't directed at him personally, but at
the memory of those who had asked the same and who Galen thought he had
disappointed. Matthew couldn't be sure.
"Galen, I can't leave them there to die and I can't risk damaging the
Excalibur if the plasma explodes." Adding insult to injury, Gideon
continued. "Face it, your flyer is more expendable then the Excalibur
and her crew. Unless you have a better suggestion, you're my only
hope."
"I certainly beg to differ. It is not expendable in any sense of the
word." Galen straightened, his hands fisting at his sides. "Granted, I
am able to make dispersion fields that are nearly impenetrable-I repeat,
nearly impenetrable-but only around myself or around someone close by.
I cannot vouch for accuracy beyond something outside of my reach."
"What about attaching your flyer to the Toledo and extending the field?"
"It's not that simple, Matthew. It's not something that can be done by
touch." Galen shook his head and turned away slightly. What Gideon was
asking wasn't beyond the realm of possibilities; from sheer
concentration, it would simply drain the Technomage of every ounce of
energy he possessed till total exhaustion. And Galen wasn't sure how
long it could be sustained, certainly not for the duration Gideon would
need.
"What about an illusion of some sort?" Matthew felt like he was
grasping at rapidly fading straws. "Make it appear like a sensor
malfunction."
Galen's eyebrow hitched once before his face returned to its unreadable
expression. "That could be possible."
"I wouldn't need much time." Gideon frantically added not wanting to
lose Galen's interest. "I can have the crew position themselves close
to the point of entry and bring them all out at the same time. Once I
get them on board, we'll take off like a bat out of hell and call in the
Excalibur. She'll open a jump point over their heads and surprise the
Drakh. They won't know what hit them."
Galen had to force the smile from his face, enjoying the Matthew's
renewed enthusiasm. If he was the type, the Technomage was sure Gideon
would drop to his knees and beg. For having a total lack of
understanding when it came to technomancy, the Captain's ideas were
remarkably sound, however mentally grueling. Gideon might have some
hope yet.
"My ship is not above a direct plasma explosion either. If you can
receive confirmation that the leak has been stopped, I will assist you."
"Thank you, Galen." The elation on Gideon's face said more than his
words.
"I hope you understand the risks, Matthew. Nothing is guaranteed."
"No, but the odds have just tipped in my favor. I'll let you know when
I have final word." He clapped Galen's shoulder in gratitude before
turning to leave.
"Matthew?"
Gideon turned when he heard his name, walking backwards towards the
hatch.
"You are most welcome."
Galen finally smiled as he watched the Captain march across the flight
bay. Turning to face his flyer's hatch, he caressed the rail, mumbling
to his ship as he ascended the steps.
"Expendable? Never! Ignore him, darling, he didn't mean it."
Two hours and rapidly counting down.
The thought made Gideon wish he could crawl back into bed and sleep into
next week. Sighing hard, he slouched in the padded seat he occupied in
the bullet car and closed his eyes. It didn't take imagining for
Matthew to know what the crew of the Toledo would be going through
before life support totally collapsed. As environmental controls began
to fail, the cabin temperature would decrease to an unbearable chill,
exaggerating the headaches and muscle soreness. He was certain they
were already experiencing side effects from the oxygen deprivation,
making even minor movement impossible without resulting in
breathlessness and a disorienting dizziness.
Lifting a hand, the Captain ran his fingers through his dark hair,
pausing to scratch the back of his neck. The Drakh stationed around the
Toledo had been a big enough nuisance in itself and Galen's recon on the
plasma leak made it that much more difficult.
Plasma engines worked by electrically discharging particle rich gas to
produce an enormous and very reliable thrust. Low in cost and
maintenance, these engines were used in ships such as freighters and
personal transports in a variety of different designs. But if something
happened to the ignition systems or an interruption of the particle flow
occurred, the results could be disastrous. According to what Galen
reported, it appeared to be the former in the Toledo's case, spraying
plasma through the core without being discharged. Quickly the particles
were filling the immediate space behind the engine exhaust, building a
potential for an external force to set it off. Uncontrolled, the blast
would continue to feed off the spray coming from the Toledo and backwash
into the system. The engines would be destroyed, triggering the
disintegration of the entire ship. If the crew could shut off the
particle release and drift further away from the plume, the Toledo might
have a chance; Matthew could only hope that momentum would be enough.
Light strobed behind his closed eyes, pulsing as the bullet car surged
towards its destination. The dull hum of servos and gears added to the
strange numbness he began to feel, finding the solo bullet car trip to
have an almost hypnotic effect. Within the daze, an overwhelming sense
of terror crept up on Gideon, paralyzing him in fear without warning.
His thoughts returned to the Toledo as it sat drifting helpless with
internal air at a minimum. From the safety of a ship it was easy to
forget that in the vacuum of space, not a desperate gasp of it was
breathable. The coldness was as absolute as the tremendous isolation.
A loud scream echoed in Gideon's ears, a voice cold and metallic before
it dissolved into his own desperate cry.
Matthew forced his eyes open to stare at the opened door, completely
unaware the bullet car had even stopped. It would remain open until he
decided to exit or gave it a further command, and he visibly shivered,
attempting to send his own memories back into the darkest recesses of
his mind.
A breep from his com link startled him. He slapped his hand to his
wrist. "Gideon."
"Captain, I have the Toledo on hold." Matheson replied through the com.
"Thank you, Lieutenant." Matthew was more thankful for the
interruption. "I'm almost there."
The open door greeted him again and Gideon steadied his nerves. He cut
the open link and stood slowly, moving towards the doors to pass through
them into the corridor. The narrowing hallway took him into the bridge
where Lieutenant Matheson waited.
If Matheson noticed Gideon was pale, he didn't say anything, choosing to
file it away until the time was more appropriate. He locked eyes with
the Captain once, and instantly knew things were bad and going to get
worse. A mixture of emotions flowed from Gideon, more naked than he
wanted, and the telepath respected his privacy enough not to pry.
Matthew had always been of few words and chose to share outright even
fewer.
"Sir, the co-pilot answered."
"Something happen to the pilot?" Gideon looked away finally, marching
to the command chair before sliding into it with ease.
"I'm not sure."
"Re-establish link."
"Re-establishing. Aye, sir." A small nod from Matheson gave Gideon the
go-ahead.
"Excalibur to Toledo, do you copy?"
"Copy, Excalibur." It was a nondescript male voice that replied. "I
believe we are not due for another status report for quite some time.
Is there something wrong?"
Gideon almost wanted to laugh, long and hard, at how unfair everything
in the universe rapidly appeared to be. If the co-pilot only knew how
wrong things really were, Gideon figured he would have the same
reaction.
"Unfortunately I have some bad news, Toledo. Where's the pilot? She
should hear this too."
"She is currently working on a solution to our growing life support
problem. I assure you, Excalibur, I will relay whatever the news is to
her. Please continue."
Gideon fidgeted, trying to find a more pleasant way to deliver his
information. Sugar-coated was never his style. "Some advanced
detection on our part has discovered your ship is leaking plasma."
"I understand." There was a long pause, as if the co-pilot was taking
the time to digest exactly what it was that Gideon said. "If the manual
overrides are still functioning we should be able to cut the plasma
flow, but at our current rate of speed, I am not sure if we will be far
enough from the plasma by the time you make it to us."
"How long will it take you?"
"Depends. Preferably under two hours, after which it will be
pointless." Contrary to his words, the voice did not seem disturbed.
"I will need to fully study the diagrams of this system to be sure it
can be accomplished without compromising the reactor. For all I know,
it could be the main power relay of the electrical systems."
"We have a few engineers aboard that know her design and could help. Do
you want me to contact them?"
"Thank you for the offer, Excalibur, but allow me to research on this
end first. Once I have a feel for the systems, and if I have questions,
I will contact you. As the pilot stated before, direct transmissions
drain too much from our system."
"Acknowledged. I'll have them look at the blueprints on their own in
anticipation of your questions. Is there anything else you need?"
"Negative, Excalibur. Thank you for the information. Toledo out." The
connection was terminated abruptly. Gideon turned to Matheson and
shrugged.
"Sounds like he's not overly concerned." Gideon paused, allowing
himself a small smile. "Yet, anyway."
"Should I let Chief Gomez know what's going on, sir?"
"Yes, tell him about the plasma leak and have him examine the engine
schematics for any hazards. The co-pilot may need to talk to him if
anything is unfamiliar or potentially threatening." Gideon stood from
the chair, having an urge to do something, anything, other than sit in
wait. He had a few ideas of his own on how to proceed with the rescue
if the plasma prevented and all-out attack, and those plans were
dependent on the Excalibur's resident Technomage.
"Where will you be, Captain?" Matheson asked, his commander and friend
appearing very old, worn, and tired.
"Docking bay, selling my soul to Galen." Gideon paced his way from
command, leaving what he knew would be a very puzzled first officer
behind.
The lift was occupied when Gideon passed it and quickly he backtracked,
sliding his hand between the doors. Having company was much preferable
to being alone with his thoughts. Sensing the disruption, the doors
opened again, and waited for him to step inside. Resuming, they slid
shut.
"Docking bay." He stated before nodding at the two technicians standing
beside him. They returned the favor before looking down, interested in
the comp pads and clip boards they carried as the lift descended
quickly, ultimately coming to a rest at the last deck. Matthew waited
impatiently for the doors to open, striding forward to step out when
they finally moved. He exited before they were fully open, turning his
body to squeeze through in urgency. The two hours left would quickly
dwindle to one, then to none, and the crew of the Toledo would be dead;
he had to do something to prevent that unquestionable outcome.
The hallway brought him past the observation deck overlooking the bay,
giving him a glimpse of the technicians and craft, and Galen's flyer
sitting in the middle near the atmospheric shuttles. Gideon entered an
access shaft and took the descending stairs that emptied into an
airlock. Cycled open, the hatch slid back as he approached, and he
walked into the pressurized deck of the flight bay.
It was easy to appreciate the comparative size of the Excalibur from
standing in the bay. In either direction the massive space stretched,
various crafts parked within alcoves or along the walls, anchored to the
deck with locks that fit over the landing gear. Fumes of spent fuel
wafted through the room and burned at his nostrils, the air scrubbers
working to clean it and make it viable for recycling throughout the rest
of the ship.
All reports said Galen had returned to his flyer, preferring that to
wandering the ship while waiting for Gideon to find him. The Captain
headed towards the personal craft, wondering why it always made him so
nervous. It was probably the black exterior, polished to a sheen and
extraordinarily void of detail that made the craft unnatural and
inhuman. The power globe light that illuminated the bay should have
reflected off its surface, but didn't; it merely glowed from the very
edges to look like black volcanic obsidian. The sensation reminded
Gideon too much of a similar feeling he had nearly ten years previous as
he watched an exodus of similar ships pass him by while he floated
helpless in an EVA suit.
Most ships had structural wear to their outside surfaces, pocked by
cosmic debris that scratched and pitted the smooth metal. The
Technomage's ship lacked any such signs of stress, smooth and shimmering
as if it had been recently resurfaced. Gideon was thankful it didn't
have the organic look, which appeared in his nightmares, flowing and
ebbing over the surface like rippling waves in a dark reflecting pool.
If he waited long enough, pacing around the perimeter of the ship, Galen
would appear.
Gideon's patience paid off. The ramp lowered from beneath the flyer,
silent until the bottom touched the flight deck. Illuminated stairs
disappeared into the darkened hatch and the Captain watched, boots
becoming legs, then a torso and further, as Galen descended from the
flyer.
"Can we talk?" Gideon tentatively touched the edge of the flyer's wing,
stretching above his head. Oddly it didn't feel as cold as he
suspected.
"I don't know, can we?" One look at Gideon told Galen the man wasn't in
the mood for a semantics debate. The Technomage smiled. "Oh, all
right, but kindly remove your hand from the wing. I just had it waxed
and polished to perfection."
"I need your help." Matthew did as told, resorting to put his hands in
his pockets. "I've gone over it six ways from Sunday, and I can't
figure out any other way to do it. Can you get me to the Toledo?"
"I can, but to do what, Matthew?" Galen enjoyed being obstinate, maybe
too much for Gideon's tastes.
"I've seen what your ship can do. I have every reason to suspect you
can coast under the Drakh's radar, and they'll never know you flew by.
If you can get me out there, I'll be able to pull the crew off the
ship."
"Gideon, as soon as you put one foot into space, they will detect it."
"I know that, Galen." Gideon paused, taking a deep breath. The last
time he truly trusted the Technomage, his ship was shanghaied, its
movements controlled by the navcom on the flyer as they searched for the
Well of Forever. "That's why I need you as well."
"Oh, Matthew, I'm touched." The smile on Galen's face widened to his
eyes and became wicked. Gideon's gaze narrowed. "But I will confess
right now, I am awfully allergic to EVA suits."
"That's not what I meant, and you know it." He scolded. "You must have
something in your big bag of Technomage tricks you could use to create
the same sensor dampening shield around me that's around your ship."
"Sometimes you put too much faith in my abilities." The bitter words
slipped out before Galen realized it and the smile leached from his
face. Gideon had a feeling it wasn't directed at him personally, but at
the memory of those who had asked the same and who Galen thought he had
disappointed. Matthew couldn't be sure.
"Galen, I can't leave them there to die and I can't risk damaging the
Excalibur if the plasma explodes." Adding insult to injury, Gideon
continued. "Face it, your flyer is more expendable then the Excalibur
and her crew. Unless you have a better suggestion, you're my only
hope."
"I certainly beg to differ. It is not expendable in any sense of the
word." Galen straightened, his hands fisting at his sides. "Granted, I
am able to make dispersion fields that are nearly impenetrable-I repeat,
nearly impenetrable-but only around myself or around someone close by.
I cannot vouch for accuracy beyond something outside of my reach."
"What about attaching your flyer to the Toledo and extending the field?"
"It's not that simple, Matthew. It's not something that can be done by
touch." Galen shook his head and turned away slightly. What Gideon was
asking wasn't beyond the realm of possibilities; from sheer
concentration, it would simply drain the Technomage of every ounce of
energy he possessed till total exhaustion. And Galen wasn't sure how
long it could be sustained, certainly not for the duration Gideon would
need.
"What about an illusion of some sort?" Matthew felt like he was
grasping at rapidly fading straws. "Make it appear like a sensor
malfunction."
Galen's eyebrow hitched once before his face returned to its unreadable
expression. "That could be possible."
"I wouldn't need much time." Gideon frantically added not wanting to
lose Galen's interest. "I can have the crew position themselves close
to the point of entry and bring them all out at the same time. Once I
get them on board, we'll take off like a bat out of hell and call in the
Excalibur. She'll open a jump point over their heads and surprise the
Drakh. They won't know what hit them."
Galen had to force the smile from his face, enjoying the Matthew's
renewed enthusiasm. If he was the type, the Technomage was sure Gideon
would drop to his knees and beg. For having a total lack of
understanding when it came to technomancy, the Captain's ideas were
remarkably sound, however mentally grueling. Gideon might have some
hope yet.
"My ship is not above a direct plasma explosion either. If you can
receive confirmation that the leak has been stopped, I will assist you."
"Thank you, Galen." The elation on Gideon's face said more than his
words.
"I hope you understand the risks, Matthew. Nothing is guaranteed."
"No, but the odds have just tipped in my favor. I'll let you know when
I have final word." He clapped Galen's shoulder in gratitude before
turning to leave.
"Matthew?"
Gideon turned when he heard his name, walking backwards towards the
hatch.
"You are most welcome."
Galen finally smiled as he watched the Captain march across the flight
bay. Turning to face his flyer's hatch, he caressed the rail, mumbling
to his ship as he ascended the steps.
"Expendable? Never! Ignore him, darling, he didn't mean it."