Chapter 20
"Alright, so tell me what to do," Tilyer said, casting a worried glance back at the blast door.
Gabel sighed, rubbing his eyes wearily. "Well, if I've read the schematics right, you're going to have to go back into the engine access ports and manually increase the drive output to the point of meltdown."
"Why can't you do that from here?"
"The computer won't let me. It works as a failsafe. If I initiate any action that would cause a meltdown, it automatically countermands the order."
"Alright," Tilyer said slowly, "so how do I increase the drive output?"
"In the access port, there should be three levers. Push each of them all the way up—but you'll have to do it for each individual engine."
Tilyer nodded, clipping the commlink to his breast pocket. "Are you coming with me?"
Gabel shook his head, looking away from Tilyer and back toward the console. "No, I have to monitor things here to make sure the meltdown proceeds slowly enough to give the crew time to abandon ship."
"Alright, then just keep your eyes open. Tell me if anything happens."
"Sure thing."
Tilyer nodded and then turned, heading off deeper into the engine room.
Tilyer took a deep breath and wiped away the sweat draining into his eyes. He reached down, gently easing the third lever on the console into the upright position. "Okay Gabel," he said into his commlink, "That's the fifth one. You getting any reaction on your end?"
Only silence answered his call.
"Gabel, you there?" he asked again.
Still nothing.
He frowned, wondering worriedly why Gabel hadn't answered the comm.. The big man had given no indication of anything being wrong before, but his absence was making Tilyer decidedly uneasy. Perhaps ambient radiation off of the engines was interfering with the transmission.
He grunted and began to shimmy his way back down the cramped access hatch and slipped into the corridor beyond. As his booted feet hit the catwalk below him, he immediately began to look around the three-tiered engineering corridor or any sign of Gabel. The three story tall room was set up with a trio catwalks positioned before the three rows of engine emplacements on the Enforcer. Standing on the second tier, he could peer over into the small diagnostic area below, but he couldn't see Gable anywhere.
Breathing heavily, Tilyer keyed the commlink again. "Gabel, you there now?"
Again, no response was forthcoming.
"Damn," he swore, casting a worried glance up and down the room.
Tilyer pricked his ears, listening intently. He couldn't be sure given the sound of the engines thrumming all around him, but he thought he heard the sound of booted feet on the deck plating below. He leaned over the railing, peering down to where the engineering corridor beyond attached to the rest of the engine room as his hand nervously slipped around his blaster.
Suddenly a bolt of amber energy lanced from corridor below, splashing in a wave of ruby light just above Tilyer's head.
"Shit!" he shouted, returning fire at the white-clad figure that emerged from the gloom of the hallway. The blue stun bolt spread out, impacting along the walls as the trooper pulled back.
Down below, Tilyer could hear him talking. "I've got contact!"
Tilyer swore and began to desperately look for a way out. He soon realized, however, that there was no other way out except through the corridor below that was quickly filling with storm troopers. He bit his lip as a moment of indecisiveness took hold, but he forcefully thrust it away. He still had a job to do if he wanted to save the people of Belsavis.
He whirled around on the catwalk, triggering another blast at the doorway as he ran for the next access hatch, boots pounding on the grating beneath his feet. No sooner had he reached the second hatch than a flurry of blaster bolts erupted from below. He hunched forward, covering his head with his arms in an attempt to weather the barrage. Crimson blaster bolts splashed off of the bulkhead and catwalk around him, but thankfully none of them hit.
He straightened up, preparing to offer return fire when the catwalk suddenly lurched. The carbon-scored struts on one end of the walk snapped, and the whole thing canted downward to slam into the catwalk below with a horrendous clang.
Tilyer lost his footing and pitched forward down the slanting walk. He frantically flailed for the railing but his hands couldn't find a purchase. He let out a scream and tumbled down the ramp. His shoulder hit the ledge below, sending a fierce jolt of pain coursing through his arm and into his chest. He gasped, squeezing his eyes closed against the agony as his fingers went limp and the pistol in his hand clattered to the deck.
He forced his eyes open against the pain, watching in horror as a trio of white armored troopers slowly advanced upon him with blasters pointed in his direction. "We've got him," one of them said into his commlink. "He's not going anywhere. We're clear."
Tilyer watched as four more figures appeared at the mouth of the hallway. Flanked by a pair of storm troopers, Venka folded his arms over his chest, regarding Tilyer with an icy gaze.
"I never would have picked you for a traitor, Flight Officer Raan. I suppose we are just fortunate that one member of your little band actually has a conscience."
The deck grating pushed painfully into the side of his face, but even so Tilyer managed a look of confusion before Venka stepped aside and revealed the one person still left lurking in the hallway.
Gabel glanced away, unable to look Tilyer in the eye. "Sorry Tilyer . . ." he mumbled, bowing his head in shame.
"What do you want us to do with him?" one of the storm troopers asked.
"Take him to the brig," Venka said sharply, turning on his heel and disappearing down the hallway.
The storm trooper turned back toward Tilyer, shouldering his blaster rifle. Without word or sentiment, clamped down on the trigger. Waves of blue energy coursed over him, lighting every nerve in his body on fire. Thankfully the agony was short lived, and Tilyer's world soon dissolved into darkness.
