A whumpf, followed by a high-pitched whine, grabbed his attention. To his left, at the far end of the Observation Lounge, the door to the corridor was beginning to bubble and warp. Atmosphere was escaping through its contorted seals at a rate that would’ve whipped the moisture from his eyes. The plasma junction had erupted, it seemed, and the forcefield hadn’t corrected its position to compensate for the fire.
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