[ TT ] Your ship 's dead in space , nothing working but life support . You 've still got momentum from when the engines worked , and with no way to `` steer '' , you 're months away from crashing into the very planet you were supposed to colonize . No one can reach you in time to help . How do you tell your crew ?

`` How do I tell them? I just do n't have the heart,'' I mumbled, slumped over my desk with an empty glass in my hand. My first officer was sitting in the seat opposite me, trying her best to console me but to no avail. I groggily got up from my seat and wandered over to the Nutriment Dispenser Unit near my bookshelf. I slammed the empty glass on the surface and spoke into the receiver, `` Beer. Pale lager. Cold.'' A synthetic liquid materialised inside the glass. 
 
 `` And you're sure there is absolutely no way else to perform a course adjustment?'' asked my officer. 
 
 `` No, Crawford. I already asked Hernandez and Nguyen. Our navigational instruments were completely fried in our encounter with the Zuurgons in Sector 121A-5. We even lost our starboard nacelle to one of their luxon pulse beams,'' I replied. `` We're all just sitting on a dead ship. Adrift. Waiting to crash into Siginel-B.'' 
 
 `` If all we need to do is make a minor course adjustment, then let me propose an idea,'' said Officer Crawford. She stood up and began pacing around my office. `` If I... and perhaps 4 or 5 of the other crewmembers sacrificed ourselves and used our matter in the quantum amplification technobabble chamber, then perhaps we can generate enough extra momentum to steer the ship back on course and also decelerate her enough to make it into a safe orbit around Siginel-B.'' 
 
 `` Preposterous!'' I shouted as I slammed my beer on the table. `` I will not allow my crew to give up their lives so flippantly! These are our friends! Our family!'' 
 
 `` With all due respect, Captain... The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few, dammit!'' responded Crawford. I stopped and closed my eyes for a second just to ponder on Crawford's suggestion. 
 
 `` Let me at least run it by engineering first,'' I stated after a moment of thought. I pressed the surface of the capacitive touch-screen glass on my communication collar and spoke. `` Hernandez. Captain here. How's our engine situation coming along?'' I quickly outlined Crawford's idea with the quantum amplification technobabble chamber. As I suspected, Hernandez was n't too keen on the idea. 
 
 `` Cap'n,'' he said. `` There just might be another solution. It's a long shot, but if I cross the streams of the duplex matter-antimatter combustion currents, I might just be able to create a controlled reaction that will re-energise the hexacaesium crystals. It's a 1 in a million chance of getting the reaction just right.'' 
 
 `` Make it happen,'' I demanded. `` How long do you need? If we do n't enact Crawford's plan in less than an hour, we'll miss our only window and we'll crash into Siginel-B.'' 
 
 `` Aye,'' replied Hernandez. `` I only need 45 minutes plus commercial breaks.'' 
 
 `` You've got 40,'' I said and shut down the communication channel. I looked back up to Crawford. We both knew that the odds were against us, but we were hopeful. 
 
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