Monday, January 21, 2013

100 Words a Day 162

“Shields are down!”

Galin was thrown against the instrument panel by the blast.

“Thanks, Peaches!” he called angrily to his copilot who was seated next to him, “I hadn’t noticed.”

A succession of blasts rocked the ship, setting off numerous alarms. The cockpit became something resembling a chance music concert performed by an orchestra composed of pinball wizards on their best machines.

“Damn it! That sounds like a hull breach.”

Indeed it was; they felt a brief sucking sensation as the atmosphere vacated the ship, before the atmosphere retention door fell into place.

“At least nothing will be on fire.”

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