SD241806.12 - PLOT LOG - "Under The Sea"

Posted on Tue Jun 12th, 2018 @ 4:48pm by Brigadier General Jonathan Grey

1,400 words; about a 7 minute read

Mission: Tremor Trouble
Location: YaDalla Colony
Timeline: Current

=^= Facility Equinox - 800m under the Great Sea, YaDalla =^=

*Awoo! Awoo!*

Red plant pots protruded from the walls, bathing the corridor in red light that glinted off the water's surface. Already ankle deep and rising, the pool was fed by jets of water that gushed from every join and rivet in the walls. Another deep rumble shook the facility and increased the flow, though the noise was quickly drowned out by the sound of running feet.

Skidding around the corner, Lead Researcher Dans Kreel threw off his sodden lab coat and sprinted through the water, followed soon after by his research team. Some were wearing their lab coats, a pair were wearing dinner formals, and the youngest was still in his pajamas. None hesitated to throw themselves down the corridor with reckless abandon, fleeing the sound of rending metal behind them.

The sounds of calamity were loud and jarring, the alarms and hull damage competing for maximum volume, but both were quickly drowned out by the ominous sound of rushing water. It rose in fury like a tempest from a can, and a maelstrom quickly barrelled into the corridor behind the team.

"Come on! Come on!" screamed the security staff in the common area ahead of them, waving frantically at the scientists. One held his hand a fraction of an inch above a bright red control by the doorway, with the protective glass cover already unlocked and opened.

One by one, the scientists passed the security team, and down went the man's hand.

*SLAM* went the emergency bulkhead, crashing into position between the survivors and the rushing water. It slammed hard into the ground, sending a large, icy wave up to drench the security staff.

"Arrgh!" shouted the closest, taking his hand from the emergency panel and wiping the briny seawater from his eyes. The salt stung like the blazes, and wiping his face with his sleeve only drove it in deeper.

"Stop rubbing it, you fool. Here." said his boss, a smaller man with a large moustache. He reached out and tapped the other guard on the shoulder with a bottle of drinking water, watching the new recruit tip some into his eyes and blinking rapidly.

"Alright, headcount. Sector five is now sealed. Computer says current population is seven. One, two, three...seven. Alright, no fatalities. Some good news at last." he muttered to himself, making a note on the damp padd in his hands.

"No thanks to Doctor every-man-for-himself over here." groused the scientist in his pajamas, throwing Kreel a black look. For his part, the lead researcher simply slumped into a chair and ignored his junior, taking deep breaths to quell the burning in his lungs.

"Alright, alright." said the Chief, waving a calming hand.

The man's next words were drowned out by the sound of rapidly approaching footsteps. On the other side of the room, the second entrance was reverberating with the noise, shaking droplets of water from the ceiling. The sound of rushing water could be heard in the distance; a not-so-subtle clue as to why the inbound group sounded like they were running for their lives.

"Same as before!" shouted the chief, dodging through the chairs and tables to take up position near the second entrance. The other guard, his eyes still red, collided with a few chairs and tumbled to the ground in his hurry. The younger man managed to roll with it, getting back up to his feet and reaching the doorway before the first of the runners appeared.

This group was much larger, almost three dozen people in lab coats, overalls, and uniforms. Some event had been taking place in the southern lab before all the earthquakes had begun shaking the place to bits, and now it was a free-for-all as over thirty people tried to force themselves down a corridor no more than two yards wide.

The uniforms ran in unison, falling into single file as they bolted down the corridor. Grubby overalls were the sign of pragmatists and do-ers, and as such they were more than happy to push past their colleagues. Unfortunately, it was the thinkers in the lab coats that were throwing the whole group into chaos. Some swung punches, others stamped on toes, and the whole thing smacked of sheer, unbridled terror.

The few at the rear felt the swell of water lapping at their heels, and spared a few wide-eyes glances at the wall of water that coursed into the corridor behind them, quickly eating up the distance.

Screams followed the group down the hall as the slowest were consumed by the tempest at their heels. The water pressure threw them all down the corridor towards the security guards, who finished unlocking the bulkhead control with quick hands.

Meanwhile, the Chief took a step back and hit the lifesigns detector on his padd. The screen lit up with a map of the immediate area, showing the people in the room, the people in the corridor, and the flickering signs of those caught in the spray of water fast approaching.

"Hold the door!" he shouted, even after the last few crossed the threshold. The younger guard looked at the old man with incredulity, but stayed his hand as instructed, even as the water surged closer and closer. They gestured for people to move to the side behind them, some getting the hint just quickly enough to avoid the massive jet of water from the corridor.

The lifesigns detector, now drenched in water as the chief took cover to the side of the doorway, showed the slowest runners being carried through the portal by the waterworks.

"Now!" the chief screamed, and the younger guard smacked the bulkhead control with a closed fist. This time it struggled to seal against the intensity of the pressure, but eventually the gushing entrance sealed itself.

The room, subjected to that intense deluge, was now waist-high in water. The tables were strewn around the room, but even now a pair of overalls were busy righting some of them. Those caught in the blast of water were quickly found and dragged from the murky depths, placed on the tables to cough the worst of the brine from their lungs. Fortunately nobody needed CPR, but at least three were bleeding from collisions with the walls and tables.

"Sir, damage report." said one of the runners, looking like a drowned rat, but unmistakably wearing a security uniform. In his hand was a chip, likely pulled from one of the main computer terminals before the place had flooded.

"Good job." replied the chief, taking the chip and plugging it into his padd. The Map App loaded in seconds, with a little spinning logo at the side to indicate it was processing new data. The guards still standing clustered around the chief and peered at the display, with a few of the more curious lab staff wading their way closer to see what was going on.

Predictably, the map quickly filled with red, indicating serious damage. The two main labs were flooded, the emergency escape zone was black (indicating total collapse), and a few of the smaller rooms had sealed bulkheads, likely indicating survivors trapped inside.

What held the chief's attention, however, was a little number in the bottom-left of the screen. Updated by an emergency system built into the station's black box, anybody with the decryption key could read the simple transmission emitted from several points along the station's hull, including anybody inside.

Simply put, it was a plea for help, their coordinates, and a simple number indicating the current hull integrity. Damage or no damage, the ocean's natural swells at this depth were enough to rip the station apart if the emergency integrity field failed entirely, and the lights were already starting to dim as the beleaguered station cut life support to its barest minimum.

Integrity: 34%

Small waves rolled through the room as it shook again, aftershocks from some far-away earthquake giving the station a good rattling.

The padd blinked as the number updated.

Integrity 31%

"How're we doing, sir?" asked the guard with red eyes, the padd's screen a blur of colours and shapes to him.

"Integrity's low, emergency zone's a lost cause, and the power's in the red." replied the chief, in no mood to sugar-coat it.

"So, what you're saying is that we're screwed."

"Basically yes."


=^= End of Log =^=

Equinox Staff (NPC Grey)

 

RSS Feed