Star Point

Ch. 4 Against the Clock

Hahn and Marcelo carefully weaved through the debris littering the halls of the ship. Despite increasingly severe tunnel vision, she tried to orient herself through the chaos. OK, she thought as she felt the walls for any clues. Where are we? As she continued to probe for identifying features, her hand brushed against a deep chip in a familiar metal door frame. The surrounding metal had an dense, uneven layer of moist soil caked on.

"Wait," Hahn gasped. She started to pull away from Marcelo. "I need to see it."

Marcelo shot a skeptical look at her, straining to continue supporting her weight. "Do you think now is the time to check on your damn plants, Hahn?"

Hahn ignored his protests and yanked herself away to assess the damage. Through her clouded field of vision, she scanned the wreckage and her heart raced as bits and pieces flashed into view. Her soil suspensions painted the red lit walls and windows. Potato plants lay pitifully on the ground with their roots exposed among the broken remains of their pots. Hahn shook her head in utter disbelief, shutting her eyes tightly in hopes of waking up from the living nightmare she found herself in.

"All this work..." she whispered. "All this work we've done over the last 18 months. How is it fair that it's all gone? Over what? What could have possibly caused... this?" She tearfully stared up at the ceiling and screamed, supporting herself on an intact table. "Do you hear me, God?! How is this fair?!"

Hahn struggled to spot Marcelo clearly through her tears and declining vision. "I might die up here, you know," she snapped.

Marcelo shifted his weight, trying to find the right words to console her . "Hahn, " he began. "You are not-"

She threw her hand up in protest. "Don't," she hissed. "Don't go saying things you don't mean, Rivera." She shakily gestured to her laceration, anger flashing in her tired eyes. "Look at this! You don't think this could pose a problem?! What- whoa..." She took an unsteady step forward and fell unconscious into Marcelo's arms.

Groaning, he braced for impact as they both slammed into the work station's cabinet. "Ok," he panted. "Let's get you out of here."

_______________________________________________________________________________

Aiona reluctantly laid back in the stretcher. "When is someone- ow!" He yelped as the nurse pulled her hand away. Her platinum blonde hair was pulled back in a high, tight bun, her long bangs side swept in front of her startled cognac eyes. Aiona let out an exasperated sigh. "Sorry," he grumbled, laying back down on the mat to allow the woman to continue disinfecting his wound. 

She flashed a smile and snickered. "What? A big, strong man like you can't take a little stinging?" He scoffed in response.

Closing his eyes, he tried to focus on the sounds around him through the blare of the alarms. Aiona could faintly detect the frantic conversations of crew members he recognized.

OK, he thought as he took note of the various voices. That's definitely Lam yelling at someone over there. Who else is there? Ouch! He gritted his teeth and clenched his fist around the cold metal bars by his side. Either she's incompetent or this thing is worse than I thought.

"OK," the woman said, placing the last thick strips of sticky medical tape across the thick gauze pad and onto the skin of his forehead. "You are stable for now. When Dr. Martin gets back, though, she will most likely want to determine if you have a concussion."

Aiona scoffed. "No disrespect to you and the doc," he began as he slowly lifted himself up to an upright position on the stretcher. "But I think I would know if I had a concussion. "