Chapter 2: Shipwrecked
"—Wait, hang on," Anakin interrupted the small hologram of Obi-wan hovering over the consol, casting a pale blue light. Standing aboard the one-man ship, Anakin stared at the blinking lights, one red and one blue.
"What is it?" asked Obi-wan.
"There's a problem."
"What kind of—"
"Wait, and I'll tell you," gritted out Anakin.
He pulled up the screen for the red light data, as the ship hummed softly in the background, creating a soothing white noise. This can't be right, he thought.
"Well?" prompted Obi-wan.
"The ship's telling me I have a damaged airlock bay. It was fine before." Then he pulled up the blue screen data. "The other warning's not so bad."
"Tell me anyway," said Obi-wan.
Anakin blew out a breath. "It reads that the hyperspace route is intersecting a zone of solar radiation."
There was a silent pause, then, "Anakin, drop out of hyperspace now. Wait for the solar storm to finish."
"Obi-wan, nothing is going to happen."
"You know that's not true!" chided Obi-wan.
"So my ship's sensors might be a little blind for a little while—big deal."
"Anakin. They've been known to take out entire computer systems. Sometimes, the parts have to be replaced."
"It'll be fine—I'm a great pilot," Anakin said, and then, after scrutinizing Obi-wan's miniature holographic face, he added, "great instincts," for good measure. He could feel Obi-wan begin to build up steam for a full blown lecture. "Have to go. Need to check out the airlock bay. Bye." Before Obi-wan could say another word, Anakin turned off the hologram communicator.
He ran his fingers through his hair in agitation. Sometimes, Master Obi-wan felt suffocating. He wished he would loosen up. Taking a deep breath to calm himself, he headed towards the back door.
He marched down the steel corridors to a symphony of his boot's echoes. Rounding the tight corner, he ducked his head under the web of cable wires spilling out from the ceiling like the ship's bowels had been gutted out. I better fix that, he thought wryly. It was the only ship available when he left on this impromptu mission to catch the rebel.
Stopping at the airlock, he pulled on an oxygen mask, hoping the ship wasn't venting atmosphere. There would be no rescue. The first door slid open and the second one slid half way and stopped while there was a horrible pitched screeching noise from the hydraulic levers. The doors groaned and Anakin felt his heart stop. It was every mechanic's nightmare to hear such noises come from works of art. A ship was meant to be lithe with its smooth curves on the outside and most of all… silent—like the deadliest predator. It was every mechanic's pride to fine tune such a ship; to know that your ship is the stealthiest one out there. Not that you could hear sound in space, but you could hear your ship's drive on the inside. Loud ships made for loud migraines—literally.
Anakin pressed the button to reseal the doors and the metal cacophony started again, killing his ears. It sounded like the doors were jamming, but not quite.
Crouching, Anakin prepared himself for the noise this time and pressed the button. He watched the bottom of the door carefully as it opened again. He'd have to look at them from the other side. Obi-wan would have a coronary if he knew Anakin was about to go inspect it. It was one thing to attempt this if he had a co-pilot aboard, but should anything go wrong, he'd be trapped in the airlock bay—away from the control room. He could almost hear Obi-wan's voice in the back of his mind: lots can go wrong when a ship was in hyperspace.
The thought of Obi-wan brought a smile to Anakin's lips. He was like a father and a brother to him, and, despite Obiwan's misgivings, he knew Obi-wan meant well.
But Obi-wan's not here and he'd never know, Anakin decided. Besides, he worries too much. Don't things always turn out fine? With that thought solidified in his mind, he stepped over the threshold.
From the other side, the door had an ugly scorch mark. What the hell? He wondered. That wasn't there before. Pressing the button, he studied the doors closing. Whatever—or whoever, he begrudgingly added—caused this had misaligned and probably dented the bottom of the doors. Every time he opened the doors, he risked the hydraulic system breaking from the stress.
Well, if there was someone on board with him, he thought, he would welcome the fight. He had to get rid of his aggravation somehow.
Just as he reached to open the doors again, he lost his footing and fell down. Anakin was not clumsy; he had the agility of an acrobat. It was the floor that had moved. Then, tremors rocked the ship and the hull groaned like a large invisible hand had grasped the ship in its palm.
He braced for the wall, but the floor gave away and his head found the wall instead of his hand.
"Mother effing—" He pressed his palm to his head as if to negate the bruise he would find a couple hours later. He wasn't hurt, but he shouldn't have made that crack about Obi-wan's head earlier. He felt like fate had chosen today to make an ironic mockery of him.
Cursing softly, he sat on the floor away from the walls. He would not risk a real head injury, or a back injury (from leaning against the walls). He looked around the airlock bay. There was nowhere soft to crawl to. Everything was steel, steel, and more steel. Hard, bruising steel.
It wasn't easy to sit on the floor. The floor kept throwing him off, and he had to use all his muscles to balance. He felt like a puppet whose strings had been cut, making movement hard and useless. Add to that, that puppet might as well have been thrown into a blender. The steel ship certainly felt like one, especially after his hip smacked into the floor for the umpteenth time.
When I get out of this, I'll propose ship walls be padded with thick cushioning. He couldn't believe nobody's ever thought of it. This was hell.
After an hour, the tremors had finally stopped. Anakin stood up slowly, on shaky legs, unsure if it was truly over. There were a couple of times when the sudden cease of motion gave him false hope, and it was dashed when he was thrown into another round of the game "off-balance". His muscles felt sore from trying to keep to one spot on the floor for what felt like hours. It wasn't easy when the floor was no longer a surface you could count on to stay still.
Finally up, Anakin hurried to the control room, wobbling only slightly. On the way he finally realized what was bothering him. Before he even looked at the screen, he knew. The ship wasn't humming like it did before the tremors.
I'm not traveling at hyperspeed anymore, the thought echoed in his head.
Whatever had happened had knocked the ship off course. Recalculating his current position and programming a new route was going to be hell, that is, if the ship was in any condition to go back in hyperspace.
Anakin wasn't sure anymore.
"Crap," he muttered, frustration with this mission mounting.
"You got that right," came a voice from behind him.
Sighing, Anakin slowly turned around.
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Author's note: I would love any constructive criticism, so that I can improve my writing. (For example, were there any areas where the story dragged (a.k.a. pacing)? See my bio for a more comprehensive list. Your comments would be greatly appreciated. Thank you :)