((Catwalk, Nacelle 3))
Loupaz: Did you guys forget I worked components for five years?
The brunette finished her climb up the ladder, stepping off the rung and
making her way to the Rodulan nearby a console. She dropped a PADD onto
it's countertop, sneaking a look at its readouts.
Loupaz: Yeah, that means I typically reserve my 'damage control' to the
damage I can typically control. Nacelle work... it's not out of my field,
but I think I'm getting rusty.
Loupaz: Might be both.
A warning chirped from the console. The Terran released a heavy sigh and
began her march further down the catwalk, snagging a toolkit as she did.
She called over her shoulder.
Loupaz: Didn't we patch this?
She ran a tricorder over the top of the plasma injector. The miracle of
modern technology made it possible for Xio and Loupaz to stand on top of
the warp nacelles mid-operation. Once upon a time, they'd have been fried
like eggs on a stone out on a sunny 45C day.
Loupaz: It's running hot-
The warning alarm turned into an emergency klaxon, red lights in the
Loupaz: There's a micro fracture in the plating -- I can't get to it on
The tricorder snapped shut. Loupaz rushed back to the safety zone, blast
shields already beginning to fall at the end of the walk.
Well screw walking, Loupaz was running now. She slid atop the grating, the
heel of her foot slamming into the ladder to stop her momentum. The noise
deafened her -- at least temporarily. It was impossible to describe -- a
vacuum-controlled explosive force was unlike anything else ever heard.
She needed to pop her ears from the pressure.
Nacelle 3 was no longer operational.
So much for 'damage control'.
Tbc . . .
PO Angeline Loupaz
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