An extra dose of stims, a quick cup of the tar they call coffee, and I was bouncing down the corridor towards Harrigan’s office. I took a second to lean against a bulkhead, to quiet my mind and body. No sense ruining a good impression doing a spaz dance like some med-naive greenhorn.

Noise and heat took my quiet, blasting me off my feet. The way ahead turned to abject wreckage. I must have been laid out at some point, but thanks to adrenaline joining the chemical cocktail already in progress I was upright without really knowing how I got that way. Echoes of screams and alarms reached my ears through a buzzing haze.

Abandoning the ill-fated visit to superior’s office, I wound my way to the bridge—no way I was going to be out of the loop on this. Singed but alert, I took stock of the situation. No enemy ship showed on the external sensors. No triumphant declaration came over the interspace coms. We were alone in empty space.

We all knew what it meant.

Sabotage.

Someone on board was Kined Sect, a fanatic.