A howl exploded amidst the whiteness of Hall's office. It turned red as the sirens kept roaring for help. The ship was in pain and its adrenaline started firing up. Something obviously went horribly wrong, and the first thing that crossed Hall's mind was if he would be blamed. He immediately left everything he was doing and rushed towards the bridge.
Crewmen and marines were slightly slower to react, most of them thinking that it was yet another drill in the same week. Nevertheless, everyone aboard was running somewhere. The ship came vibrantly alive, resembling a disturbed anthill.
A column of marines dashed by Hall's office. McKinley, the captain of the ship, was slackly dragging himself after them. He was, fittingly for his position, hectically employed during peaceful hours, even doing some of Hall's work, but for emergencies, it was Hall who did everything. He didn't trust McKinley, and perhaps he had reasons not to.
In a hurry, Hall forgot to close the door. While the corridor played a trough for the stream of sirens, his almost open, unguarded office was as inviting as the mermaid song.
![[Image: 396AUfe.png]](https://i.imgur.com/396AUfe.png)