“We can even get burgers before we go," Daniel said. "The food's pretty good here at 'Containment Facility One.'"
He said the name playfully, but at the mention of Stuck Station, Jeska’s eyes narrowed.
Didn't think that last one through, Daniel thought.
For Jeska, the name brought back vivid memories of the last five years, and she felt any doubts about her plan evaporate.
This is the only way out, Jeska thought, fingering the trigger.
“Give me the ship now, or I will fire,” she said. Her cold tone matched the icy glare she was giving Daniel.
She won’t fire. She won’t fire. She won’t fire, he told himself.
“Please don't fire,” he said, still trying to calm her. “That sludge on your fingers? Lubricant. Highly flammable. The whole room’s coated in it. Use that pistol, and we both burn.”
Before he could finish, she pointed the gun at the ceiling and fired a beam of white hot energy into the metal three feet above Daniel's head.
The bulkhead sizzled, turned bright red, and sagged downward five inches. The room’s temperature instantly increased 20 degrees.
So the pistols do work, Daniel thought, stepping back from a shower of sparks drifting down of the ceiling.
He felt the hot flecks of metal burn his neck. Some of the sparks landed on a trashed Mek arm – a limb Trak had discarded after a recent upgrade – igniting the lubricant.
Flames bloomed outward, spreading quickly, and the sickly sweet smell of burning chemicals filled the room.
The maintenance bay was only 50 feet by 50 feet, and it wouldn’t be long before the entire chamber was aflame.