“Winter?  You still down there?”  Argon’s voice came crackling over the ship intercom.  His voice, as always, was smooth and confident, but there was a note of urgency in it that wasn’t often there.

“I’m here,” replied Winter.  “What’s going on?”

“I wanted to let you know that we’re leaving hibernation mode.  So, stay away from the engines.”  Winter sighed.  Great.  “Oh, and did you fix the diagnostic systems yet?”

“No, sir,” Winter replied.  “Not yet.  I narrowed it down to an overheating panel, though.”  There was a moment of silence before Winter plowed onward.  “With all due respect, Captain, bringing the ship’s power up will probably fry this panel.”

Another few seconds of silence, before Argon’s voice came back onto the intercom, slightly louder, slightly more aggressive than before.  “OK Winter.  Here’s the situation.  We’ve got incoming Invaders and our ship might as well be a cardboard box for all the good it does us in hibernation.  I’m sorry you’re stuck down there during this, but I can’t allow any marmots onto this ship.”

A mixed blessing, then, thought Winter.  With a marmot attack, he’d be able to get out of this sauna of an engine – only sure to get hotter once those engines were going full blast – and maybe even get a chance to nap while locked down in his room.

“Thanks for letting me know, Captain.  I’m going to head over to my room, then.  Let you military types do what you need to do.”  Winter stepped away from the panel and toward the door.  Behind him, the engines were starting to spin.

“No can do, officer.”  Argon sounded more and more apologetic with each sentence.  “We’re locking down all the doors now, and besides, we need someone in that engine room.  If that panel is overheating, we’ll need someone to contain any potential fires that break out.  Also, that engine room is one of the weak points on the ship.  We’re dispatching a team to meet you, but if an Invader latches on before they get there…”  Argon’s voice trailed off as he let his words sink in.  Winter looked over at his standard kit, which he had left hanging from the handle of now-locked door.

“You’ve got your kit, right?”

Winter clenched his jaw and closed his eyes for a few seconds.  He opened them again, confirming that this wasn’t just a bad dream, before striding over and grabbing his standard issue pistol from his kit.

“Yes, sir.  Of course I do.”