"Have you done anything?" I asked.
"Yeah," said Midas, his face screwing up in a most unVulcan-like fashion.
I waited. I could feel Troy's tension behind me.
"Um ... Well, we've done it ... and our aim was spot on," but as we looked at the view screen, nothing had changed ... and then it did.
Slowly, the image began to fade into blackness. We all stood dumbly squinting at it.
"What's happening?" I asked.
Midas scratched his head, scowled hard and turned to Troy.
"Ask a stupid question, Troy, but you know how the Dancers can't exist in this temporal plane?"
"What about your sources of non-sentient energy?"
Troy's face was not usually very expressive, but as he closed his eyes and bit down hard on his lip, we knew.
"They can't exist in it either, can they?" pushed Midas.
"Probably not," Troy admitted, ashamedly.
"Um ... What exactly does that mean, Midas?" I asked.
"It means, I think we've shifted temporal plane all right, but I also think we've lost ALL power."
"Then why are the lights still on?" asked Troy.
"It's residual power. Rather like the water in a hosepipe, when you turn the tap off, there's still a bit of water in the pipe."
"And as the pressure drops ..." I finished for him.
"So ... this whole station is going to shut down."
"Yep, and that means our orbit around Hell will start to deteriorate and as we enter its atmosphere, we'll burn up."
"The Earhart!" I shouted. "We have to get back to the Earhart! Oh shoot!" I had realised an even bigger problem. "The path to the Earhart! It's pure energy! It's the only way to get back on board! If that fails, we're stranded!"
Midas, Luke and I ran urgently to the door. It didn't open so Luke and Midas began trying to jimmy it apart.
"So what do we do?" asked Troy.
I threw him one of my most demeaning glares.
"We get this sodding door open and then run for our pigging lives, you fool!"