What more could you want? Well, maybe a just a snippet of the prize:
Onboard the Imojenna, somewhere in void-space
|“So, tell me how we’re not going to explode this time?” Zahli Sherron grabbed onto the back of her brother’s chair, the wail of multiple warning alarms and urgent flash of red emergency lights cutting right through her skull until her head throbbed.|
Dizzying weightlessness pulled at her as internal gravity failed, and she held tighter to the back of the captain’s chair. That was all they needed—one more malfunction added to the impressive list of utilities already flat-lining. If the heat was anything to go by, environmentals had failed for the fifth time this month.
Rian slammed a fist against his console. “Come on you fat assed, lazy whore!”
“You know she always gets into a mood when you call her names.” Gravity returned and Zahli’s knees jarred when her feet thumped back down to the floor.
“I wouldn’t have to call her names if she’d cooperate once in a while. Why aren’t you belted in?” Rian glanced over his shoulder at her and wiped at the sweat running down the side of his face. Her brother turned his attention back to the display screen across the main viewport as data flashed, warning about the impending depressurization of the cargo bay from a hull breech. “Not the Grigorian liquor, you crotchety bitch!”
“Automated full ship lock down and venting of cargo bay in thirty seconds,” the monotone voice of the Imojenna announced.
Frecking great. When the last lockdown had sectioned up the Imojenna, the bridge hadn’t opened afterward with the rest of the ship, and it’d taken almost an entire rotation to override the command. She’d thought it kind of funny at the time because she’d been on the outside. Next time Rian tried to buy hull sections from a dodgy parts dealer on some backwater moon, a slap upside the head should remind him not to bother.
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