Chapter 13: Captain Adrienne "Ace" McAllister
Adrienne sat in the dim glow of the emergency lights, her fingers wrapped tightly around the armrests of her chair. The hum of the ship, the constant vibration of life and propulsion, was gone. The silence pressed against her, heavier than the gravity they’d just escaped. It wasn’t just quiet—it was absolute, suffocating. No hum of the ship, no distant thrum of machinery. Just an unnatural stillness, so complete that she could hear her own heartbeat pounding in her ears. They had survived the Sol Shot. They were still breathing. But that was where the good news ended.
No power. No propulsion. No navigation.
And no answers.
She scanned the darkened bridge, her crew still strapped into their seats, heads turning in the faint light, exchanging glances that carried the weight of unspoken fears. Her hands ached from how hard she was gripping the chair. She forced herself to relax, to breathe, to think. She was their captain. This was what she was trained for.
"Alright," she said, her voice cutting through the oppressive silence. "We need to get a full assessment of where we stand. First priority is life support."
"Oxygen’s still stable," Aurora reported, her voice steadier than Adrienne expected. "But we’re on reserves. If we don’t get primary power back, we’re looking at days, not weeks."
Adrienne nodded. Not great, but not immediate death either.
"Noah, damage assessment?"
"No hull breaches, at least nothing major," Noah responded, unbuckling his harness and floating slightly in the zero-g. "The ship’s intact, but we’re dead in the water."
"Gabe?"
"Navigation’s offline. I can’t tell you where we are, how fast we’re moving, or if we’re even on the right course," he said, frustration cutting into his voice. "No thrusters, no stabilizers. Nothing."
Adrienne clenched her jaw. That was the worst of it. If they weren’t where they were supposed to be, they could be drifting anywhere. Everywhere.
"Sarai, any chance we can get main power back?"
Sarai didn’t answer immediately. She was staring at her console, her fingers hovering just above it. Finally, she exhaled sharply. "I don’t know yet. I need time."
Adrienne met her gaze through the dim light, torn between the need for answers and the knowledge that pressing Sarai wouldn’t get them any faster. Her gut told her to demand a timeline, to push for something—anything—that would give them control again. But she saw the tension in Sarai’s posture, the way her fingers hesitated over the console. Time was the one thing they didn’t have much of, but forcing it wouldn’t make the solution come any quicker. But pressing Sarai wouldn’t get them answers any faster.
"Alright. Everyone focus on what we can do. Noah, get a full inventory of emergency supplies. Aurora, I want a plan for extending life support as long as possible."
"On it," they both responded.
"Gabe, work with Sarai. See if we can bypass whatever’s keeping us down."
"Copy that, Captain," Gabe muttered, already shifting toward Sarai’s station.
Adrienne took a breath and finally unbuckled her harness, the action feeling heavier than it should. As she pushed off toward the viewport, the unsettling weightlessness only made her more aware of their predicament—adrift, powerless, and lost. The lack of gravity wasn’t freeing; it was a reminder that they had no control. She reached the reinforced glass and peered outside.
The sun was behind them now, a distant, glowing reminder of where they had been. But the view beyond it was wrong.
Her stomach turned.
They had made it through the Sol Shot. The maneuver had worked.
But they Couldn't tell where they were, and that was half the battle.
Adrienne swallowed back the creeping unease and turned back to her crew. "We get power back. We get control back. And then we figure out where the hell we are."
She didn’t say the part that sat heavy in her chest. The part she couldn’t ignore.
She didn’t know if they could get back.
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