The Human (sci-fi 5)

Murphy studied the readouts on his sector of the air cruiser with the ease of long practice, but the tension in his mind refused to go away. Despite the fact that this was a normal trade run, despite the fact that this was his fifth trip through it in as many months, there was something about this run that he sincerely didn’t like. It felt… ominous, like it was just waiting to pull the rug out from under him.
Again, he checked the readouts, but everything was normal. The Legacy tech airship was running as smoothly as ever, all needed fuel materials were in full supply, minus the small amount they had used so far, and all scheduled maintenance had been performed and logged, such as there was. As with all Legacy artifacts, the ship was designed to run for centuries without needing repair or replacement, as long as it was not damaged by hostile action.
As if on cue, an alert began to blare nearby. With a jerk, Murphy yanked his rangy six-foot frame from the seat and spun. Across the instrument rotunda a shocked intern sat at a rarely-used station, where a white danger light flashed imperatively. Seeing the lack of comprehension on her face, Murphy ran to her side, but there was no time for him to act. As he reached her station, one of the little countdown timers in the center of her display flashed to zero, and a new message flashed up on the screen next to it. Translated from the ancients’ language, it read:
“Hostile Missile Impact”
Murphy had one fleeting second to wonder why it designated the missile as ‘hostile,’ (as opposed to what) before he was thrown violently to the deck. The ship jumped like a startled cat and a huge hollow booming rang through the hull. The crew on the bridge could also hear an ominous sound – air whistling through an open hole.
There were several bangs and thumps, and the ship lurched upwards. Murphy assumed something had just fallen off the ship. He hoped it wasn’t the wings. It didn’t feel like they were free falling, so it was likely not.
As far as he could tell, almost everybody was screaming something; orders, prayers, curses, or just noise. He looked forward, and Bosun Marcus happened to be looking at him while she yelled.
“Emergency Procedures, you curst slackers! Clear the decks for Emergency Procedures!”
He realized he was standing still and broke into motion, running to his station and frantically entering in commands on the interface. He saw others doing the same around him out of the corner of his eyes, but he paid no attention. They had been trained on ‘emergency procedures’ before being posted to the ship, but since Legacy Tech (if they got it working at all) almost never broke down, no one paid much attention. However, Bosun Marcus ran frequent and exhaustive drills, and everyone had a place and purpose under her eyes. Even panicked, people entered commands, worked machinery, or simply got the hell out of everyone else’s way.
Unfortunately, they were too close to the ground. Even as a high-pitched whine started up, and the descent started to slow rapidly, they hit.