Two minutes passed, and then it became five minutes, and five minutes became ten minutes.
Every once in a while, Jackma would click on his light box and aim the light of the flashlight at the wall-mounted timer, frowning and watching the passage of time.
Finally, the communication speaker installed on the door rang, but contrary to the automatic message he expected, the communication system of the entire station was replaced with the same screaming and whine as his screen, only twice the previous volume.
"Damn! What the hell happened!!"
His hands were pressed against his ears as if his fingers and dirty palms could stop hundreds of decibels of screaming.
Jackma knocked open the door and knelt on the public aisle, but the sound always accompanied him, and the deck speakers were also crying wildly.
As a result, he found that other doors were opened one by one, but this only amplified the sound: screams came from everyone's living room, and other staff members also walked out of their cabins shakingly.
"What the hell is going on?"
He shouted this loudly, but he didn't hear the sound coming out of his throat, and no one nearby responded.
And before everything goes in a mess, guard officer Moss Baines is telling a story about his pet.
This is not a particularly funny or interesting story, but on the supervisor deck, anything that kills time is considered a popular pastime.
Their rotation is simple, looking at the scanning screen that can't be displayed for twelve hours, reading inspection reports that are indistinguishable from the previous ones, discussing what to do once they are transferred out of this shabby military station, or looking forward to their return to the days when they are in real fleet service.
But many unpleasant things happened today, including the waste code that interfered with the system.
With the rapid response of Moss Baines, the weapon array was activated, the defense turret stared at the void, the shield was opened, and layers of spherical invisible forces protected the ugly shell of the space station.
The guard's eyes wandered on the console's timer, and it had been seven minutes and forty-one seconds since the beginning of the interference, which he called "interference" because it sounded more reassuring and scientific than "damn scream".
Currently, the damn tip-interference is being broadcasted through their internal communication network, reaching a crazy volume to every deck.
They can't close it, and no one knows why.
"The lights at West District No. 2 have just turned off!"
One person shouted:
"Oh, fuck...and there is West District 1, West District 3, the entire East District, and-"
At the same time, the lights on the command deck were also gone, and the backup generator began to operate, bathing everyone in the headache-provoking emergency red light.
"It was detected, it was an external signal."
The officer next to the guards knocked on the screen - one of the few devices on the space station that seemed to be still operating.
"Whatever it is, it comes from there."
The command deck is always hot and the air filter never works properly, so nervousness won't work.
“Details?”
The police officer wiped the sweat beads on his forehead with his sleeve.
The officer stabbed his fingertips onto the screen again.
"A passive broadcast signal, just ten minutes ago, is recorded in the archive, and when the signal is processed and recorded by our contemplators, it... spreads out, like some kind of disease, which immerse a specific space station system: communication arrays, and more primitive components in the power grid."
Morse Baines resisted the desire to curse.
“Where is the gravity system?”
“It’s still working properly.”
"Shield System?"
"I'm still sticking to it."
"Oxygen, weapons, escape pod."
"It's all still here, this is a simple, cruel, random abandoned code, it can't turn off complex things, just communication, silhouette and... It looks like the lighting network is offline, both the most basic systems, but they are full of intrusive code that hinders its functionality."
The security officer looked back at his scanning screen, which was consistent with the damage feedback he saw in the first ten minutes.
"Scanners, lights and communicators...well, we're blind, deaf and dumb, and you know that if this continues, we'll finish the ball. The tin man will make our resume splashed, let's take a look."
Saying these words did not make the situation different, and the security officer absent-mindedly clasped his uniform jacket for the first time during countless shift changes.
"You're not worried that this might be an attack?"
Another officer asked, Mos Baines shook his head.
"Who will come to attack here? Our weapons and shields are still in operation, and there is nothing to worry about except those tinned men, and that will be... OK, don't mess with tin men and their profit margins."
Just a few years ago, he would have been worried about all those who were forced to work in the dark, and now he is worried about himself first: those who are in red robes will not tolerate serious delays in production.
If this continues, he may have to pay a lot of money.
A young officer next to him scratched his chin and said with complaint:
"So, how can we blame us for the stagnation of production?"
Morse Baines tried his best to stay patient. This guy was new, served for only two months, and was not well integrated. The bionic equipment that replaced his left cheek, temple and eyes was too expensive at first glance - this guy was obviously a slutty rich man.
Maybe it was his wealthy father who sent him here for some punishment. No matter what the truth is, as long as he wants to continue to control this kind of virtue, he will be a difficult bastard.
Morse Baines snorted.
"What do you think the Iron Man will listen to? Pirates made us a mess? Hell, how could anyone target such a place? If everyone can find it here, there is nothing worth grabbing."
"Sir! Discover a special situation! Yes, it's a ship--"
Moss Baines stood up in his seat, opened his mouth wide, staring at a ship that shouldn't have existed outside the window of the command deck-
A human figure shrouded in the shadow licked his lips on the commander's seat, watching the image of the Star Pirate Space Station slowly expanding in the eye display. They were sneaking in such a close state that the space station's instruments and weapons clusters were unaware of it, but when they approached the dangerous distance of the space station, the naked eye could see the ugly outline.
"Get closer, closer."
The presence on the command throne said slowly to the bridge crew.
"Stay screaming."
"Heavenly killed—"
The monitor is still flashing with a lot of chaotic data, flashing afterimages, lengthy information and traced signals are simply impossible to exist.
It showed that there were thirty-five ships squeezing above each other, and the next moment it was empty, with only a vacuum.
The ship outside the inspection window was floating closer and closer, and could see it with the naked eye, and even its armor coating was clear, with several layers of black and bronze - reflecting the dim light of the stars far away.
"It looks like an Astat strike cruiser, a big guy."
The guard officer bit his lower lip and couldn't move his eyes away from the gradually approaching ship.