The bridge of the Gryphon shuddered as the Odysseus and the rest of the fleet surged ahead, their engines roaring like a chorus of angry beasts. Sean watched them disappear into the swirling chaos of the Earhart system, a knot of anxiety tightening in his stomach.
Then, it began. The pylons in the system core erupted in a symphony of colors, a terrifying spectacle of alien technology. "Discharge imminent!" a technician shrieked, his voice barely audible above the growing hum of the Gryphon's systems.
Sean braced himself. He knew what was coming. The pylons, according to the intel, would prioritize the larger target – the Gryphon...would be collateral damage, a necessary sacrifice to shield the rest of the expedition. Hours ago, they had sealed off non-essential sections of the ship, purging the air to minimize casualties. Now, the Gryphon shuddered under the onslaught, a living testament to the sheer scale of the pylon's firepower. Shields flickered, threatening to collapse under the relentless barrage.
Sean frantically juggled power allocation, desperately trying to maintain a stable jump corridor, reinforce the shields, and keep life support online. Sweat beaded on his brow, each passing second an eternity.
"We've only got enough reserve power to dance in this fight for only so long," he muttered, his voice grim. "Send the burst to Brad. They might be on their own if they don't speed their recovery efforts."
