God damn it...

The alarms became somewhat penetrating as Nikita administered to yet another corybantic person, struggling underneath him as he gently placed the mask over the woman's face. She gradually stopped moving, her breathing slowed, and Nikita removed himself as the noise seemed to increase in volume. All around him were fallen bodies--the product of his drugs--that only seemed to exacerbate the problem rather than fix it. He knew it had to be done, however--these were the cases of people blind with fear. Their continued consciousness would only feed the great fear fire that was a-swirling in this claustrophobic atmosphere. 

The psychiatrist looked around carefully, making sure the last of the frenetics had been dealt with before bolting to the nearest elevator--or lift, what have you--and mashing the button for the bridge only to realize that he was being coldly watched by several security guards. Right... no clearance... All right. These damn military types... they don't understand how the human psyche works. Not everyone will respond with cold, measured tranquility when they're about to be obliterated. Nikita ground his teeth as the door opened. Almost immediately he was shoved aside as various specialists crammed themselves into the lift and shot down to where-ever they were needed. 

Setting his jaw, Nikita turned on a dime and bolted away from the lift, going down to the main deck--that is, the largest of them and the nucleus of human activity.

It was there that he saw the frenzy turn into a mob. Panic was a strange epidemic, striking through each heart so quickly that it spread mere seconds after it already corrupted the body with an inky smile. The Russian chewed his lip thoughtfully, looking around for a place to stand before deciding on a bench. A speaker...! Thank goodness... Reaching up, he pulled away the console cover and yanked out several wires. Now, which one was it? He was taught this at some point. Dear Lord... he wasn't a technician! Yammering softly to himself while the mass still huddled in numb terror, he finally decided on this orange and blue one (seemed right; 'twas the color of that Dakota's eyes). Splicing the wire with his scalpel--and getting a small shock in return--he pulled out the comm that everyone carried, wiring it into the now frayed PA system.

"Test. Test... Ah... Pravda, Pravda..." Nikita looked around with a proud smile as the group looked around in confusion.

"Up here, comrades. The bench." Nikita waved and once again looked inside the console. Yanking the yellow wire out and cutting it, he muted the alarm, allowing his voice to be the only thing these people would hear. A thousand or so eyes all bored into him; they expected a great speech. A stirring militaristic sort of thing; well, he wasn't about to give one of those, but he could soothe 'em some.

"Comrades, friends... 'tis our beautiful existence on the line..." A few squeals of panic threatened to boil over into hysteria, so he quickly followed: "No, comrades! We will not fail! We will not die... we are the greatest, a culmination of the most perfect genetics all crammed into one singular ship, all in one seven-kilometer brain, one body, one heart... comrades, we are in debt to one another by virtue of our shared desperation. Comrades, think not of yourself in these most dire moments..."

"These times try our souls, and were we lesser... were we a more fickle people, should we not deserve the annihilation that these monsters wish to thrust upon us? Comrades! We must fight! We will not all fight with weapons--indeed, I'm not very good at that myself, but I can make one hell of a sermon, hm?--but will we stand idly by, screaming isolated thoughts of woe while our destinies are stamped out by these... demons we don't even see? Comrades! Stand up, together, like brothers and sisters! Comrades, you will not die today, for now as we stand here-"

A racking vibration shook the area, causing Nikita to stumble, twisting his ankle in the process. Cursing in Russian, he glanced around at the crowd gathered before him. They too were as afraid as he was, but it was the fear that kept you alive (we were human, after all). He knew he was afraid: his voice was the strongest it had ever been. Raising the intercom to his lips, Nikita whispered, "Comrades... this is for something greater. This is our survival... comrades... we will not go gentle into the night... comrades... fight... and win."

There was no resounding cheer--they were far too rattled for that--but Nikita knew he had at least mesmerized them into a tranquil state of acceptance (at the least). In the forefront there stood a man with two pistols strapped to his leg. Looking up at Nikita, this man slowly raised a salute before bolting off through the crowd towards the stairs (stairs! That's... my God!). Nikita watched in dumbfounded amazement as this number started to increase. Mothers with their children (children...? how did they get on board? oh... robots... some people...) swarmed in a quite organized fashion to their respective rooms, some running off to help in any way they could. It wasn't until the last of them went away that Nikita fell to the ground, gasping in pain as he pulled off his boot to examine his ankle. 

"That's the way of the doctors, damn it... we get injured--while there is a battle going on, no less!--by God-damn benches. Chert voz'mi..." It was a little purple globe, thankfully not bleeding too much, that Nikita quickly wrapped in compression bandages. He grit his teeth as the tightness of the wrappings came into effect, but at least now he could walk. Standing on unsure footing, he pulled the intercom out of the console and haphazardly jammed all the faulty wiring back inside before slamming the cover back on.

"Ah... someone else will fix that..." Nikita grinned to himself as he hobbled down to the lift to help out in any way he could. Somehow the largest of the blasts didn't come until he was fully underway, when a sprinting security guard sent him sprawling again. Moaning and picking himself up, he glanced around to find that security teams had been sent down to clear everyone into their rooms. They must've been confused to see no one here, because they paused robotically for a moment before resuming their tramp down the corridor. Down, down, down... to clear out that sludge...

Nikita saw one woman lying on the ground with a pretty sizable gash in her head. Putting his finger to her neck, he found that she did have a pulse. Someone had almost died. Probably because she was trampled on by all the mass hysteria. Regardless... this was humanity's last ditch effort for survival... and someone nearly died. Nikita ground his teeth and fought back a growl before dragging the lifeless form to the side so that it wouldn't be stepped on. Running--and ignoring the pain--the Russian made for the nearest nucleus of humanity. This was when he passed the bar, looking in to see three people... or something like that, at least. He rapped on the window and gestured for them to get out before running down to the next place--another bar--and doing the same. He continued this, periodically jumping down to assist someone in need of medical attention before security teams even came to clear out the place. Nikita grinned with self-satisfaction: "Doing better than you, Admiral..."