The Start Of Troubles...

The smell of ozone was thick enough to taste, coating the tongue with an acrid metallic tang that no amount of ventilation could scrub out.

"Fuck…"

Leo stayed in the throne for long minutes after the shouting and the hugging finally died down and the girls had collapsed into seats and onto the deck, his palms flat on his thighs and his fingers uncurling bit by bit as the adrenaline drained out of his blood and left a heavy hollow ache behind in his bones.

Around him, under the flickering runners, the physical cost of the fight lay bare.

The deck under station three was littered with shattered quartz clips, scorched copper ribbon and the grey dust of burned-out capacitor insulation. 

Station two's display housing had warped under the pulse and was still smoking faintly where Harper had sliced the auxiliary conduits.