was like comparing an airliner to a fighter jet, and Nathan had little experience in flying the latter.
“Our roll is starting to oscillate,” Cameron warned as she watched the ship’s attitude display. As the ship rolled on her longitudinal axis, the ends of that axis were starting to trace circles that were widening slightly with each revolution.
“Slave the bow docking thrusters on the port-side into the stick to replace the missing pod,” Nathan ordered.
“They’re not going to be powerful enough,” she warned as she followed his instructions.
“Override the safeties on the chamber pressure to get more power out of them.”
“They’ll blow,” she warned. Cameron switched her comm channel to send an urgent message ship-wide. “Attention, Attention. Emergency evacuation. Sections twelve through fourteen. Decks C, D, and E. Seal off forward primary bulkheads.”
Damn it. I should’ve thought of that.
“Overriding safeties. Maximum chamber pressure reset to twenty-five percent above normal.”
Nathan again pulled the joystick to the left, this time favoring the bow thrusters by angling the stick slightly forward as well. More alarms started sounding, and Nathan noticed a red warning light flashing on Cameron’s console, increasing the size of the knot in his stomach. Suddenly, the flight console shook slightly and Nathan could feel his seat wobble, as a distant muffled explosion was heard.
“The chamber blew,” Cameron said. “We’ve got a hull breach, Deck D, section thirteen. Damage control teams responding.”
“Casualties?”
“Unknown,” she answered.
“Range to station?” The explosion in the docking port chamber had done exactly what Nathan suspected it might do, adding enough counter force to take the oscillation out of their roll and allow the remaining maneuvering thrusters to stop it altogether. Of course, Cameron didn’t bother to acknowledge that he had successfully stopped the roll. But they were still closing on the station, and would soon collide with it if he didn’t stop their approach. Nathan knew that he couldn’t use the forward braking thrusters, as there was only one left in working order on the right of the bow. That would put them into a slow flat spin instead of slowing their approach.
Ten kilometers,” Cameron updated.
The warbling collision alarm became more frequent as the computer voice upgraded the warning. “Collision Alert. Collision Alert.” Nathan knew he had to do something fast before it was too late. He glanced over at Cameron, thinking he saw a momentary look of satisfaction on her face. She was sure it was about to be another failure with Nathan Scott at the helm.
“Warn the station to evacuate the decks facing us,” he ordered as he pulled the stick back hard. “Pitching over.”
“What?” She hadn’t expected that.
“Do it!” Nathan watched the attitude indicator, stealing glances at the forward view screens. The view of the approaching station dropped quickly away, replaced by the black field of stars. He was flipping the ship end-over to point her tail at the station. “And bring the main drive online!”
“You’re going to cook that station!” she argued as she sent out the warning message.
“I’m just gonna singe them a little,” he muttered to himself.
He pushed the stick forward and held it just enough to stop the end-over flip. With the Aurora now coasting toward the station tail first, he gave the order. “Give me a one percent burn on the mains.”
Nathan sensed Cameron’s hesitation, sending her an insistent look.
“Firing the mains at one percent.” She tapped a few buttons and brought the main propulsion system into play. “I hope they got out in time,” she added, as if pointing out his mistake.
Although Nathan appeared confident, he felt like he was about to piss himself. Apparently, the captain hadn’t been exaggerating when he bragged that his sim operators would make him cry.
“Collision Alert. Collision Alert.”
“Range to station?”
“Five kilometers,” she answered. “Closing at five hundred meters per second.”
“Mains?”
“Burning at one percent.”
“Any casualty reports yet?”
Cameron looked at the message board on her console. “Five injured, twelve missing.”
“Damn it!” he muttered.
“Collision Alert. Collision Alert.”
“Four kilometers, closing at three-seventy-five per second.”
Nathan wanted to add more power to the mains, but he knew that if he wasn’t already cooking the hull of the station, increasing his burn would.
Three kilometers.” Cameron reported calmly. “Two fifty closure.”
Nathan’s pulse was racing, and he felt his heart beating in his throat. He glanced over at Cameron. She was cool and calm, just like always. But then again, she wasn’t the one who was going to have to explain to the captain why they barbequed the station.
“Two kilometers,” Cameron updated. Nathan could sense the satisfaction in her statement.
“Collision Alert. Collision Alert.”
Nathan’s optimism was almost gone. It’s not going to work.
“Message from the station,” she reported. “There hull temp is critical. They report structural failure in thirty seconds.”
It felt to Nathan as if Cameron were saying ‘I told you so.’
“One kilometer, one hundred closure.”
“All hands! Brace for impact!” Nathan resigned.
“Eight hundred meters, fifty closure,” she updated.
Nathan expected the computer voice to remind him of the impending collision, but it did not. They were going to strike the station, but there was a chance it might only be a bump.”
“Five hundred meters,” Cameron announced, pausing for a moment before continuing. She couldn’t believe what her instruments were showing her. “Zero closure,” she added. She felt like she had been betrayed at the last second, just as she was about to witness another crushing blow to her adversary.
“Kill the mains!” he ordered. “All stop!”
“Mains are offline,” she announced as she shutdown all maneuvering and propulsion systems. “All systems reporting all stop.”
Nathan breathed a sigh of relief. “Damn, that was close.”
“Attention. All hands secure from collision alert,” Cameron announced. “Repeat, secure from collision alert.”
Nathan should’ve thought of that one too, but at the moment he didn’t care. He was just relieved that he hadn’t destroyed the station.
“We are still rolling slightly,” she pointed out to him, making sure that he realized it was not a complete victory.
Suddenly, the lights in the room brightened, the projection screens surrounding them turned blue, and the back half of the room swung open.
Nathan nearly leapt from his seat as he left the simulator, not waiting for any critique.
“Fifteen minutes!” the sim controller called out to Nathan as he passed by.
Nathan waived acknowledgment as he exited the simulation center and headed down the corridor.
“You’re at the helm on the next one, Ensign Taylor,” the technician informed Cameron as she calmly got up and stretched her muscles. They had been sitting in the simulator for more than three hours.
“No problem,” she smiled on her way out.
The sim controller sitting behind his console above and behind the simulator bay just shook his head in disbelief. “That is one icy bitch,” he commented to the floor tech after Cameron had left the room.
Just then, the comm system buzzed. “Flight Simulations, Lieutenant Jacobs,” the controller answered after pushing the speaker button to take the call.
