“Back yourselves!” Loudmouth orders over the intercom system. As the fleet fires on The thrusters. The Storm’s Wraith angles down, pulled by the gravity of a planet they were near. The ship’s falls through orbit, as fires gut through sections of the ship
The Storm’s Wraith continues its decent, as the flames pour out from the thrusters. Finially it crashes into the dirt and rock terrain of the planet, forming a crater as it does so. Loudmouth lays over the control panel as flames flicker around him.
“The primary logistics module is fried,” Dire muttered to himself, and several of the nueral linkages are shot," He complained, not in the engine room.