“I don’t know. It’s like … a gravitational pulse, almost. Like a wave hitting in intervals.”
The hiss of a door sliding open pulled Adequin’s attention to the top tier of the bridge. Mesa drifted in, blue silk folds billowing out behind her as she swept toward them.
Adequin glared at Puck. “I thought I told you to lock us down.”
“I did.” Puck’s brow creased in confusion. He looked at his screen for confirmation.
Adequin took a few steps up toward the top level. “Mesa, now’s not a great—”
“Excubitor, there is a—” But before Mesa could complete her sentence, her form flickered, then disappeared out of existence.
Adequin groaned. Mesa walked in again, then followed herself in twice more until three copies of the Savant marched in rapid succession toward her.
“Bloody hell.” Adequin pressed her fingers deep into her temples as the triplicate Mesas sauntered past the captain’s chair.
Between the three of them, they managed to get out more of the announcement, though it was difficult to understand as they spoke over one another. “Excubitor, there is—there is a—Excubitor, there is—situation—outside—a situation—”
The first two evaporated one by one, leaving the third trailing behind with the lingering words “outside Octo Sector” before it disappeared as well.
The bridge crew exchanged nervous glances, but otherwise didn’t react. Only the light beeps of console notifications punctuated the soft sounds of fingers sliding against screens. A raucous pounding shattered the nervous calm, and Adequin’s breath caught as the hammering echoed through the silent bridge.
“Excubitor?” Mesa’s muffled voice called through the thick door.
Adequin looked to Puck, who gave a small shrug. “I guess if it’s not opening, maybe it’s really her this time?”
“Open it for me.” She ascended the stairs two at a time. As she approached, the door slid open. Mesa stood outside, cheeks flushed crimson, hands on her hips. She swept an appalled gaze around at the crew inside before landing on Adequin.
“Why is this locked?” Mesa asked, her breath labored. Savants weren’t known for their stamina, and by the sweat glistening on Mesa’s forehead, she must have expended quite a bit of effort in getting here. “I have been trying to call you on comms.”
“Sorry, Mes, they must be down again. We hit a bit of a snag in here. There’s a situation outside of Octo Sector?”
“Yes, how did you…” Mesa’s face fell flat with realization. “A ripple. I see.”
“Yeah, one or two,” Adequin said with a sigh. “So, what is it? Fight break out, or…？”
“Not exactly, I am afraid.” Mesa lowered her voice. “Some of the men swore they saw something out the outward-facing observation windows. They began to argue like absolute cretins, but when they saw the hatches close, well…” Her look grew distant and harrowed, like she’d been made to recall a grisly dream. “Everyone started … freaking out.”
Adequin’s eyebrows raised. She didn’t think she’d ever heard Mesa use such colloquial speech. “Can you be more specific?”
“Well,” Mesa huffed, drawing back her shoulders. “Presently, they are trying to break down the bulkhead door to Octo to get to the armory.”
“No, no, no.” Adequin shook her head. “We cut power to Octo—grav and oxygen are off-line.”
“You may want to get down there and explain that to them. They are under the fervent impression that they need to arm themselves.”
“Shit.” Adequin gripped the back of her head. “Okay.” She turned to call down to Puck. “Puck, I have to deal with this. You have the bridge.”