Pride Goeth

[Amy West]

Dreadnought Arcturus, Vespucci
Evening

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root.access
HL.v014:stream.link.verified
initializing.connection:standby
core.access:granted/verify.user
user.link:A.West-LC01
access:granted

West let out a pained sign as the console gave in, the screen flooding with meaningless characters as the connection was established. She was really beginning to hate herself for all this flashy filler from before the fall. Then again, at the time she likely never imagined something like this would ever crop up.
Wishful thinking on the part of her past self.
".. c'mon you fucker.. show me the goods.." she muttered, still clinging to the console, every moment a bid to keep herself upright. Determination was slowly taking the place of adrenaline, but she had finite supplies of both.
Security code AARDVARK, central node selection, initiate full diagnosis mode. With a rather unceremonious screen tap, the core lit up a bright orange, the processing lights flashing a slow pulsed red.

Analysis, User CRANE unresponsive. User West's doing?

West let out a small sigh, followed by a brief chuckle.
"Yep.. glad to see you're alright.."

User CRANE initiated localization cascade. System functions were locked within central computer core, signal unresponsive.

She pushed herself off the console, grabbing the frame for one of the core's numerous computation racks. Her strength began to wane, the threat gone for now. With her mind wandering, the sharp pain of her injuries began to step back in.
"Gah.."

Reading significant bodily distress. Painkiller administration not possible: insufficient supply.

West leaned against the rack, sweat pouring down her neck, her legs barely able to keep her up.
"Yeah.. I gathered.. that.."
She blinked for a moment, thoughts racing through her mind occasionally interrupted by the throbbing.
".. medical.. mark location of nearest.." Her HUD updated with a course plotted. Down the hall a ways, and up one deck. Perhaps too far for her legs, but determination had kept her going so far. No reason it'd give in now.

West pushed herself off the rack towards the door, gripping her helmet at she shuffled on through the doorway and down the hall.
"I.. want you to keep access to the core open.. Make sure CRANE doesn't disable diagnosis mode.."

Affirmed. Two more sectors, then up access flight 37 to Deck 6.

She kept moving, her head a cocktail of pain, anger, and fear. As she reached the stairway access, West reached for the emergency lever just before the door slid open. The stairway access shaft was dark, with a very faint red hue bathing the stairs just enough to see. She gripped the rails as she began scaling the steps, one after the other, each a banquet of strain on her aching muscles. Grip, yank, step, repeat, each one bringing her closer to that door at the top of the flight. The small staircase may have only been a dozen or so steps, but each felt like its own Everest.
At the last, she had run out of guardrail to grab, and instead gripped the emergency lever on the door, pulling herself up the last step until she'd made it. The door slid open as she caught her breath, groaning as she stepped through the doorway. Deck 6 was much the same as the one below, with several bodies scattered around and emergency lights flickering after years without maintenance. Before her, however, was the door to secondary medical. In reality, it was little more than a triage center, but inside were enough amenities to provide some measure of treatment.

The door opened, and West stepped on in. Between her and the medbay proper was a small airlock, designed to prevent loss of air pressure, as well as contain the spread of pathogens. A Libertonian design originally only afforded to the primary medical center aboard the ship. West had modified each of the ship's medical areas to house this feature, though whether it was out of care or paranoia was something to determine another time.
"There's no.. pressure in there.. is there?"

Affirmation. All oxygen within this room was vented some time ago. Airlocks appear to remain adequate enough to provide proper pressurization. Source of suitable atmosphere is uncertain.

"Clarify."
She leaned against the wall of the airlock, the clear polymer walls offering her a full view of the medical bay. In contrast to the hall outside, the bay was fairly untouched, and even the automated medical machinery seemed completely unused.

Unverified atmosphere sources have been detected aboard this vessel. Filtration systems remain offline. Air pumps are fully functional.

"Do it.. and see if you can't get a message out to the gang on the freeport.."
The airlock doors slid shut, allowing the medical bay to pressurize. Sheets on the beds flapped a little as air was pumped in. However stale it probably was, it was almost certainly better than the sweat-drenched must that had filled her EV suit.
The process reached its end, and after a short pressure check the door into the medbay slid open. West limped through, making her way for one of the beds. using whatever she could along the way to keep herself upright. The throbbing in her head had only grown more debilitating, and her limbs ached from the strain and trauma. As she reached the bed, she practically fell over onto it, gripping the sheets and pulling herself onto the mattress. She let out a hoarse groan as her legs gave out.

Transmission sent. Communications line remains intact. Unit CRANE remains unresponsive. Recommend Unit West attempt to rest. Injuries significant; Further strain may result in continued damage.

".. yea.. keep a watch on vitals.. wake me up if the gang shows up.."
West groaned as he muscles gave out, her breathing settling down as the strain of moving her limbs subsided. Her body was spent, her energy sapped. She tapped some inputs into her suit's control window on her arm, raising her visor and breathing the nice, stale, rotten air. Still, it was better than CO₂ poisoning.

As she drifted off, the lights flickered again, and the airlock sealed shut.

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"The truth's always harder to swallow than a simple white lie.."
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