ST-70 Luck's Revenge
| Orbit of Andelm IV
A little friction in the upper atmosphere was to be expected, so when the ship bucked the droid didn't think twice about it.
A vibration then began spreading through the ship. A second, more violent, shudder rocked the chassis as an alarm began blaring.
Pulling his legs up into the seat, the afro-headed boy stood in the pilot's chair so that he could reach the overhead panel. The port side ion engine was off-line and he had a fire alarm going off in the lower hold.
Dropping back into the seat, the chore bot killed the sublight drive and instead transferred the power to the shields.
Once he was into the troposphere, he could engage the repulsorlift. Until then, he was basically flying a
durasteel brick that was in freefall as it started re-entry.
A tell-tale red glow started to illuminate the underside of the canopy.
Things were about to get hot.
...was that smoke filling the cockpit?
Things may have already gotten hot.
One hand reached to a console to his left, tapping in the command to open the aft cargo door. Of course, he was still in vacuum, so the safeties kicked in. Overriding that, there was an explosive sound as the air in the ship was violently vented into space with the opening of the aft door.
Ice began to form along the interior windows, as the droid had one eye on the angle that the ship was fell further to the planet, and the other eye watching the fire alarm.
When the light on the panel indicating the fire finally switched off, the boy keyed the rear hatch to shut.
Then he gave a sigh of relief.
Maybe now he had some breathing room.
"Luck's Revenge, this is Lieutenant Commander Vera Tillian of the RRS Endurance- we are moving into a parallel trajectory with you- aiming to intersect at thirty thousand meters above the surface and guide you into the designated landing zone. Please relay your ship's status."
...or
not.
"Oh, great," the boy uttered flatly.
"The nine most terrifying words in Galactic Basic: I'm from the government and I'm here to help."
Of course, he not only flies into a dirty bomb, but there's government bureaucrats everywhere.
Probably looking for someone to blame.
And
someone else to actually clean the chit up.
Neither of which were tasks that appealed to
him. He'd already been someone's stooge. It could be someone else's turn now.
Keying the comm unit, the chore bot answered,
"Endurance, I need a wide berth if you're closing on my position," the droid warned, his hands holding tight as he tried to hold the nose up with just the emergency thrusters.
"I've got a catastrophic failure of the flight computer. And more systems starting to red line. I'm on full manual control, but I just lost my sublight drive. I'm transferring power to angle the deflectors for an uncontrolled re-entry. I'm going to try an S-curve manuever to bleed off some speed. Then kick in the repulsorlift once I'm in atmo, and pray it sticks."
Just who was he supposed to praying to anyway?
Droids already said
thank the Maker. As if they didn't know humans and other organics were that maker.
And if anyone thought humanity was going to save the day, they hadn't been paying attention to galactic history at all.