The concussive force of the internal thermal surge didn't just shatter the central glass data-tubes; it turned the entire operations gallery into a hazard zone of flying shrapnel and boiling hydraulic fluid.
Elara threw her arms over her face as a wave of superheated steam blasted up through the iron floor grates, carrying the foul, acidic stench of melting copper wire. The heavy slate layout deck cracked straight down the middle under the sudden shift in atmospheric pressure, scattering her blue-waxed parchment registers into the pooling liquid on the floor.
Sarah burst through the heavy iron door of the spiral stairwell before the steam could even settle. Her face was entirely coated in a sheen of toxic grey ash, her breathing ragged and shallow as she scrambled up onto the main platform. She wasn't carrying the backup zinc plates. Her hands were empty and badly blistered.
