Garrick tried not to look like he was hurrying. He needed to get out of sight, but first he needed to contact the Constitution. He came around a corner and caught sight of a free console, but when he tried to open a link to the Secretary General's ship, the screen just displayed error messages. Garrick swore. They acted much quicker than he expected to lock him out of the system.

He tried to work out what to do next. The marines should have taken control of the engine room by now, but there wasn't even any sign of them. That alone would have filled him with dread, but when the battle alert rang out down the corridors, all air escaped his lungs. It was unthinkable; the prospect of one Alliance warship facing off with another.

How had it come to this? How could Allison betray everything the Alliance stood for? He wanted to scream with rage, but he didn't have time. He needed to link up with the marines. The quickest way would be to take the lifts, though they would be under watch and shut down, trapping him inside. That left the ducts.

The emergency ducts spanned the ship to allow the crew to move around in an emergency. It wasn't without risk; the crew would be automatically alerted if he opened one, but the battle alert meant the crew would have other tasks on its mind. There was an entrance close to where his current position, so he set off at a jog.

When he opened the hatch a breeze of chilly air breezed past him as the unheated ducts were exposed. He fastened the panel behind him, plunging the duct into near darkness, the only light coming from small strips of low light LEDs that ran along the floor. Garrick crawled along on his deck before he found the ladder that would take him downwards. Two decks down, he stopped and resumed his crawling. If he had measured it right, he shouldn't be far from one of the back entrances to engineering. Only, when he rounded another corner, the hatch was welded shut.

Shit. They must have known the marines were coming.

Retracing his steps, Garrick headed back to one of the earlier exits from the ducts. He opened the hatch and was blinded by the light that poured in. Even before his eyes adjusted, he smelt burning from down the corridor.

He struggled to his feet, stiff from all the crawling, and set off at a sprint towards engineering. The scent only grew stronger the nearer he got, but there was no sound. With trepidation, Garrick peered around the last corner before the entrance. Ahead of him lay the marines of the Constitution, blackened and twisted from beam rifle fire, but also drenched in fire suppression fluid, and piled up against the sealed bulkhead door. He was forced to cover his mouth now he knew the stench came from seared flesh. Without another look, he left them behind--there was no way through a sealed fire bulkhead.

He was in a battle of wills with Allison now, but he couldn't decide where on the ship to aim for. He found himself second guessing every decision as he himself tried to work out what Allison would assume. He also had the added burden of the fact that they would know where he was, meaning it wouldn't be difficult to follow him on the Mandrake's internal cameras. However, the burnt bodies gave him an idea.

Not wanting to risk using the corridors, Garrick went back through the ducts. All he needed was a console near one of the escape pods, and he had to get there before they caught him. His arms protested, grazed and bruised from all the crawling, but he forced himself forward. He was almost to the hatch he needed when there was a flash of light and he felt a searing pain through his leg.

Garrick let out a roar and shot his rifle behind him. A grunt let him know it found its target. He fired two more shots for good measure.

A sound came from the hatch in front of him. With his other hand, he pulled out his side arm and shot the gap that had opened up. Another scream, and the hatch stayed put.

Garrick stayed in this position, a weapon pointed forward and back, holding his breath to see if any others lay in wait. Pain and fear kept him there, but he knew he had to move. More would be coming.

He half dragged himself to the door, his injured leg nothing more than a dead weight. When he opened the hatch, a seared body collapsed through and almost smothered him. With a shout of pain, he pushed the corpse back out into the corridor and pulled himself after it. Breathless from the effort, he sat against the wall of the corridor. His leg hurt less now, which concerned him.

Summoning his last strength, Garrick stood up and hopped on his good leg to the console meters away from him. They may have locked his account out, but whoever had designed the ship had left emergency notifications unrestricted, the theory being that anyone--including guests or in his case, saboteurs--would need to let the ship's systems know if there was a fire or decompression. Without hesitation he triggered the alert, and the alarms began a split second later. The sound of fire doors sliding shut echoed down the corridor. He was so close to safety, but he couldn't relax yet.

He limped forward in the only direction the locked doors allowed; towards an escape pod. There were even markers displayed on the wall screens guiding him in the right direction. He would have loved to see Allison's reaction.

Garrick settled into the small pod. It had room enough for two lying flat feet first on matts with straps on to secure its passengers. There was a small viewport opposite where his head sat on the mats, and a rudimentary control system below this in easy reach of anyone who needed to use the pod. It gave him the distinct impression of being in a metal coffin.

He readied the pod for launch and closed his eyes. He was leaving a place he had called home. If he ever came back, it would be to kill Allison. Of that, he was sure.

This wouldn't be the only escape pod, there would be others who believed the fire alert, so he disabled the transponder. There would be no sense in being picked back up by the Mandrake hours after making his escape, so he planned to lie in wait for another Alliance ship. He hoped one would be along soon.

With a grimace, Garrick twisted around to release the pod. A jolt shook through him, and he was away. Further vibrations told him that the manoeuvring jets had kicked in and through the viewport he could now see the Mandrake as he flew away. But that wasn't the only thing Garrick could see.

He took over manual control of the pod so he could get a better look and moments later he had the viewport orientated towards it.

The glowing wreckage of the Constitution spread out before him.

It can't be.

He punched the window over and over, screaming with rage until his hand started bleeding. But then the anger passed, replaced by a deep depression. He didn't know how long he lay there for, numb and in shock.