SC-80 had just reached the base of the ramp when something hit him hard in his right side, just above the hip. He stumbled and fell, still shooting wildly. I've been shot. But though he knew it must be the case, there was no sense of it…no pain, no weakness. Still numbed by adrenaline, he felt as though his body belonged to someone else as he hurled himself to the top of the ramp and slammed his hand down on the CLOSE button, IP-101 already ahead of him and just now reaching the cockpit. As the ramp hissed shut, the pain came suddenly and all at once, and the Captain fell against the wall as he pressed a hand to his side. The bullet had punched through the side of his tactical vest; the gear had slowed the shell down enough to prevent an instant death, but he was still badly wounded and bleeding profusely. He started to lurch his way over to the first aid locker, only to realize that it was no longer there; unable to do anything else, he tore off a section of his tunic and stuffed it into the wound, tightening his vest to keep it in place. The deck shifted violently under his feet, throwing him against the wall as Deepstar wobbled unsteadily into the air; gritting his teeth and inhaling sharply, the Captain willed himself not to pass out as he struggled up the ladder and found himself on what had previously been his bridge. There were only three seats now, all of them sized for an ordinary person…two in front for the pilot's station, and one against the side wall at the monitoring station for the warp drive. He staggered forward to the copilot's position and threw himself into it, strapping himself in. IP-101 glanced over, and immediately swore. "Captain, you're…"
"I'm fine," SC-80 said, grimacing. "Get us out of here."
"Aye, sir." Bullets pinged off the hull as 101 punched in the override code for the hangar doors. The keypad the pilot was using had not existed in the ship's original plans, and 80 just now realized what a schizophrenic mess his bridge truly was in the aftermath of the Chadworth repairs. I'll have a hell of a time explaining this to the Fuhrer. Above, the entire ceiling of the massive hangar split in two, revealing a broad expanse of blue sky and bright sunlight; performing quite well considering his new and unfamiliar controls, IP-101 hit the thrusters, and Deepstar Five rocketed out into the open air. As the glass pinnacles of London opened up before them, 101's face split into a savage grin. "Hell yeah! How about that, you bastards?!" The Captain smiled despite the pain in his gut…though they were far from finished, the mere act of stealing the ship back from their hated nemesis was a victory. 101 quickly returned to his usual professionalism, the Captain able to do little more than watch as the pilot rapidly located and flipped switches. "You're not going to believe this, but it looks like we still have a cloak," 101 remarked as he flipped up a newly installed protective panel and pressed the key beneath it. "Activating now." At that exact instant, however, a warning tone shrilled. The Captain swore; though he did not recognize the new and unfamiliar alarm note, he could already see two flashes on the proximity monitor.
"Looks like we've got company."
"Roger that, sir. Two enemy fighters, closing fast." 101 switched to the aft camera view, which clearly showed two hostile jet fighters cleaving through the air toward them. A new alarm warbled, this one frighteningly familiar. "They're locking missiles!" 101 jammed hard on his controls, Deepstar wobbling sluggishly forward on her unsteady thrusters, but SC-80 already knew it was no good. Deepstar might have been able to outrun her pursuers in a vacuum, but not in an atmosphere. And that was before all the damage and improvised repairs. They could not outrun their pursuers, unless…SC-80 was not sure whether it was desperate hope or actual prayer that ran through his mind as he brought up the warp interface. With the Doctor gone, the only hope of returning to the correct point in the past was the set of coordinates the computer had stored from the first Jump…SC-80's bloody fingers flew across the keys…there it was. He stabbed the entry button, and the computer gave a chirp in reply as it accepted the same set of space-time coordinates it had logged during the original journey.
"Engage the warp drive!" the Captain wheezed, forcing himself upright in his chair and yanking his restraints into place. 101 turned and stared at him for the briefest of moments…undoubtedly, a million unwelcome thoughts were running through the pilot's mind, all of the disastrous probabilities that scientists had predicted might happen if a warp engine were ever activated in an atmosphere…Some said the resulting interaction of energy and matter would be equivalent to a nuclear explosion, decimating anything on the ground…Some believed that air would enter the warp corridor, and the resulting friction would tear a vessel apart. Now was hardly the time to test the theory, but there was no choice. 101's glance lasted only a second. Then, without a word, he pressed the button.