“We’re out of control, sir!”
“Readings are off the scale!”
“Lost! Everything’s lost! Oh, Naaru help us!!”
“The Terrace of Light has lost air pressure, Captain!”
“Seal the breach! Seal the breach!”
“Destylae, look out!!”
The bridge of the Exodar, deep underneath the Seat of the Naaru, was a nightmare of screams and the sound of ripping, twisting metal. The Twisting Nether outside threatened to overwhelm the ship and take everything they had away. The valiant pilots coordinated themselves as best they could to keep the massive ship, the last hope for Draenai survival, under control.
One pilot struggled with her controls, fighting to hold the ship on track as if she were able to physically drag their only home back onto course. She was so focused on her task that she didn’t hear the midshipman call her name until it was too late. If only I could do MORE…, was her last thought before the world went dark.