Levels of Failure

“…technical difficulties resulting in life support failure. Please stay calm and make your way in an orderly fashion to a designated exit area.” The voice coming over the loud speakers was female, slightly British and sounded pleased to be doing her job. She’d probably be extra pleased to find out she wasn’t here when this place turned into a fireball.

“Shoot. I guess that tears it then.” I said tugging on the fingertips of my thick welding gloves. The recorded message began to loop.

Chuck spoke up. “What exit area is she talking about? All of these doors lead straight inna space.”

“I guess they installed the emergency broadcast system before we finished building this here station.”

“Yeah that sounds exactly like something the Corp would do.” Chuck kicked the nearest girder sending vibrations up and down its steel frame. He looked up at me. “Still we probably shouldn’t have tried to weld the drums filled with flammable gas.”

“No, probably not.”

“What’s the plan then?”

I stayed silent. I had no plan.

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