The TML PBeM

1992, Turn 2 - Part 5 (of 6)

Kingfisher

A number of holo-panels on the bridge are configured to either display fire control status, or to control it outright. Suddenly about half of the interface components on each thus-configured panel go completely dead. At the same time, the bridge computer announces:

*** WARNING *** PARTIAL FIRE CONTROL FAILURE ***
*** TARGETTING AND LAUNCH SYSTEM IS OFFLINE ***
*** MAIN POWER TO MISSILE TURRET INTERRUPTED ***
*** SOURCE: ENGINEERING ***

As the message airs, Jan holsters his gauss pistol and squats down next to the wall. In his mind the situation has gotten better, not worse.

The tension in Lazer's eyes also loosens a notch. The danger of holocaust has passed, and now it remains to sort the aftermath. His arms drop to a pistol rest position, though he retains a double grip.

Upon determining that the warning is real, and finding that the turret power has beene physically disconnected at the source, Mac beams a terse message to the Aurora:

_VOUF, SOMEONE JUST PHYSICALLY DISCONNETED TURRET POWER AT THE SOURCE_

Within tens of seconds, there comes a reply.

_EITHER SEVERIN OR SILVMANE. WATCH YOUR BACK, THEY MIGHT TRY AN ARMED ASSAULT._

Mac quickly responds with:

_I KNOW. THAT'S WHAT I'M AFRAID OF. IF IT COMES TO THAT, I DON'T KNOW IF I CAN HANDLE THEM BY MYSELF. I'VE OVERRIDDEN THE TWO CONTROLS I DISCOVERED. MAYBE THE GRAVITY SWITCH WILL GIVE ME A EDGE._

"Alone against five armed veterans....? You brave little pup...."

Hot tears of shame spring to Bhyarrvouf's eyes. They'll kill him, he thinks miserably. And all because I tried to act like a HUMAN, and talk those morons out of this mess. Well, HUMP that noise! They want to kick me around for being a Vargr in human's clothes, following that rat bastard Jett instead of an OFFICER whose BOOTS they aren't fit to LICK?! FINE! I can play roughcut too, and my patience is GONE!

There is a flash of brilliant white light, and Bhyarrvouf vanishes. The Aurora is empty. Moira says, _Bhyarrvouf? Please examine the sensors quickly. we have another contact in system. Bhyarrvouf?_

All eyes are on Count Ger, so everyone is momentarily blinded when he vanishes in a flash. When their eyes clear, Bhyarrvouf is sitting where Ger was, both guns drawn and aimed at Yorblin and Lazer.

"Okay, pups," he comments in that awful whisper. "Guns dow--"

At this point, every sensor alarm on the Bridge goes off at once.

The first hint of danger comes when the sensor alarms on board the Westwind, Gemini Arbiter, and Alcyon sound. Densitometers detect massive distortions in local 3-space, familiar to all experienced spacers as a very large object, or number of objects, leaving jump-space. The disturbance forms almost a curtain spinward of the Ring, just beyond the large derelict, so recently detected.

Ten, fifteen, twenty, twenty-five... the number of new mass point- sources climbs steadily, until finally over sixty discrete targets register, some of them well over half a million metric tons.

By the time, the gravitic and light propagation allow ships in the Kingfisher/Trakh cluster to sense the new targets, sensor analysis on board the closer ships yields far more frightening results.

Ger suddenly finds himself at the command console on the Alcyon instead of the Kingfisher.

"Kon Der!"

"Count GER?" Grey blinks in disbelief. "Where'd YOU come from? Sir, we're in deep shit!"

For a fraction of a second the sheer impossibility of the event paralyzes Rigo's completely. Then Byarrvouf's awful voice cuts the Ex-inspector's confused thoughts and as pictures of cut-up bodies flashes through his brain alternating with images of the Kingfisher's cabin filled with equally bloody corpses surrounding a maniac Vargr. There is no time to consider the risks, weighing the non-existing changes of talking anyone using that tone of voice out of massacring them all against the slim chance of downing this survivor of countless battles, the risk of making himself a target against giving Lazer and the others a chance to cut in, the chance of survivours being able to save him if he is hit. All these and many other thoughts are distilled down to a single "Ohhh, SHIT!!!". And just as every sensor alarm on the Bridge goes off at once, Rigo acts.

Rigo's stunner is holstered butt forward on his left side. At all the training sessions aboard the Alcyon, Rigo has been using his right hand in a cross-draw. Now he lifts his right hand, clearly empty, and draws the stunner with his LEFT hand, twisting it into alignment and aiming straight at Bhyarrvouf. His trigger finger contracts...

...and he suddenly realizes he's not holding the stunner any more. The stunners are typical megacorp issue, more for show than heavy battle use, and the more serious characters have disdained them in favor of their own guns. Now Rigo knows why, as the stunner flies from his sweaty palm, arcs neatly across the room, and hits 'Vouf smack on the nose.

"Ow!" 'Vouf drops both of the Gauss pistols into his lap and catches the stunner in one free hand while rubbing his nose with the other. He then hands the stunner back to Rigo, butt first, grumbling, "Was that necessary?" He doesn't sound much like a psychopath any more-- more like a Vargr with a bumped nose.

Reacting a bit late, Witfield draws both laser pistol and gauss pistols out of reflex, in a largely ineffective attempt to cover the entire bridge for 'Vouf. Slowly realizing that everyone seems content to holster their weapons, Witfield does likewise.

A smile appears on his face, "Hey, Vouf. Nice surprise you got here!"

"And what's that NOISE all about?" demands 'Vouf.

As Ger sits down he touches the intercom button, and then his hands go to the keyboard. (A holographic simulation in this case).

"All hands to battle stations, Secure for maneuvering. Engineering I need full maneuver power."

Acyon-console login: nanadth
Password:
Last login: 330-1119 12:54:49 on console
TSOS Release 8.3 (UNIX VC) #4: 107-1119 14:27:16

You have new mail.

The date is June 5, 2044 PMz
At your command: rsh kingfisher end_simulation &
21123
At your command: rsh kingfisher authorize -o all < '283749shgjhwe7s32ks' &
21125
At your command: commo -radio -broadcast -AV
ld.so: warning: /usr/lib/libc.so.27.5.2 has older revision than expected 6

Communications: Radio Medium Selected
Communications: General broadcast Frequency Selected
Communications: Audio/Video mode

Communications: Active...

'Vouf's flash-appearance startled Etienne so much that almost a full second passes before he reacts to the newest alarm. As he spins his chair around to face his controls, there is the barest hint of a slightly lopsided smile.

With only a very short glance at the incoming sensor data, Etienne says "Another fleet, sir. Details coming up in the tank now..." As the details of the immense Solomani fleet begin to clarify in front of him, Etienne's hands slow in their frantic movements, until they come to a stop, just hovering there, over his controls. A very soft "Merde," however, is his only comment as his hands resume their play over the controls.

Since 'Vouf's arrival, Yorblin has remained in his squatting position, weapon holstered, in as non-threatening a posture as a person can reasonably manage without 'assuming the position'. Noting that Ger is no longer with them, he addressed the SubCommander.

"Sir, 'Vouf?............holo heroics, indeed? Your orders, sir."

With that, Jan raises to his feet, making sure his suit is pressurized and ready to roll.

Lazer very slowly lowers his pistol to the deck, his two-fisted grip reduced to a two-fingered one. He stands again, slowly, and kicks the pistol away from him.

"Sir. I surrender to your authority." Lazer's voice is formal, perfectly controlled; his emotional exhaustion betrays itself only in his eyes. "I take full responsibility for my actions, and will submit to tribunal. You have my resignation..."

No one has noticed yet that when Ger vanished, so did Jett.

Richard Jett is now standing on a grassy plain, the wind gently whipping his face. Above him, the horizon stretches upward to embrace the Sun in a band of blue. No more fighting, no more secrets....Richard Jett has, in a sense, come home. If the others resolve their differences and join him, that's good; if not, others will come eventually. The point is, he's here now.

*I must deal with these new Visitors,* the Hoop says calmly. *It will be difficult. They are many, and very hostile. But when I have dealt with them, we shall talk about our future, you and I.*

Aolrkhea' stares at the developing scan of _Kingfisher_'s weapons turret, her mind working at high speed. *Wait! There is a logical reason why the Darrian would aim at the ringw -- *

At that moment, her densitometer panels go crazy. The smooth, calm voice of Fa'eairl is heard from the main speaker.

_WARNING: JUMP INCURSION, range approximately 1 AU, many large sources._

Aolrkhea' immediately looks at the sensor arrays. "Aiwi, I have about sixty-four sources exiting hyperspace, plus or minus eight. About sixteen have LHyd displacements at or above 525,000 tons [2 million base eight]."

Aiwi's hands are again a blur of motion above the instrument panels she knows so well. Her attention is fixed on the displays of incoming data, her gaze darting rapidly among the various sensor and communication displays. She spares only the briefest glance toward the holotank to confirm the situation she has already deduced from data at her station. "Scanning the fleet on passive arrays," she mutters with a glance at Aolrkhea'. "This is no sensor-fake, Admiral. Those ships are Hisol'i, and they are VERY real."

"What the. . .!" exclaims Aurelia.

Nichole stares at the commo speaker as if a snake had just crawled out of it. "Oh No!"

Concentrating feverishly on the helm, Aurelia commands, "Quick Nikki! Get me as much power as you can!"

Nichole complies with alacrity. As manual and voice commands rapidly fine tune the engineering systems to maximum output, she moans, "Oh, I wish we had a real engineer aboard!"

Giving a quick glance towards Nikki, Aurelia barks, "You're doing good. Now give me 50% more!. . ."

Ralf's sensors suddenly flare with multiple incoming wavefronts; ships coming in. The valuable data he had been gathering, with Doctor Tabor trying to take readings on him as he and Redd worked, is now obscured in one part of the sky, but not before a good-sized chunk of information was gathered for later study. For now, though, it seems that the Talisman has other problems....

"FUCK! Are those real? Waitaminnit... shitshitshit!" Ralf's hands and eyes fly across the boards, looking for spoofing evidence. They find none.

Johann has turned when the flash came and is looking at Vouf, his mouth hanging open when the silence following the cessation of the active scan alarm is suddenly replaced by an even louder and more obnoxious yell from the sensor console. The display shows new passive EMS and densitometer contacts arriving in the system, numbering them and giving them yellow borders for 'unknown neutral?' status.

"Arrivals, fifty plus, some heavies. A new bogus fleet?"

He begins to type on the console while on the display red letters saying 'Contact ID: Type unknown, Nationality: Solomani (60%)' appear. Then the transmission arrives...

"...effective whenever you choose to accept it." Lazer smiles wanly. "Shall I take my duty station, sir?"

Lazer fastens his helmet, but makes no move to retrieve his sidearm until 'Vouf responds.

A wave of assent is all he receives, as the Subcommander turns away to face the Helm station. "Action stations, all," he barks. He quickly reconfigures the panel in front of him... and stops. He looks at something no one else can see on his display for a long moment, his ears curling back and a snarl appearing at one lip. Then, with an angry "Sudvok!", he finishes clearing and reconfiguring the display.

"SEVERIN, PUT THE GUNS BACK ON LINE!"

Manfred Werner's hand blur over the sensor panel, trying to make sense of the new contacts. Morgan Grey has left his pilots seat and is nervously hovering over Werner's shoulder.

"Come on, Doc! What's out there?" demands Grey nervously. Werner spares him a withering glance and then concentrates on his board.

"It occurs to me that we would be better served if you attended to having the engineering crew bring the drives on line, while I analyze these contacts." snaps Werner.

"Yah, yah, sure. OK." Grey flops back down in his acceleration couch and presses his commdot.

"O'Shi, if you're through pestering our CMO, hussle your ass aft and give Slide a hand. I think we're going to be needing the drives pretty soon, such as they are." Then he switches channels and contacts sickbay.

"Doc, this is Grey. I think you'd better strap your patients in, just so they don't get thrown around." Grey nervously glups for air and continues, "We got company. *Lots* of company. I'm guessing they're *not* 'friendlies'."

As J.J. waits for orders, suddenly the Turret holo-target display goes bonkers, the computer begins adding multiple targets as the Solomani fleet exits jump.

"What the ..., Shit. Guns to Bridge, Capt. we got a shitload of trouble here. I got about 60 startships exiting Jump, 1AU distance. Meson guns being fired at the ring. We are in deep shit, repeat deep shit. I would suggest getting the hell out of here if we had somewhere else to go. Identity of fleet is tentatively Solomani. I knew I should have stayed at home."

Lee groans. "Oh no. Not again..."

Christian's head snaps up in pure surprise. His mouth opens for half a second before he realizes the futility of saying anything else without a better grasp on the situation. With his patients welfare having been looked after, Christian's keen sense of responsibility and duty tells him that he must act quickly. His head rapidly surveys Sickbay as he considers the situation. A brief moment of thought ends with a flurry of action as he checks his vacc suit (underneath his uniform), grabs his medical carryall, and throws his spare gauss pistol in for good measure.

Werner continues his analysis. "Pater, please pattern match the new sensor contacts against known spaceframe configuration database. Are they starships? If so, what type?"

Milliseconds pass, a virtual eternity for Pater. Then he speaks.

_Jump field distortions are fading. I can now clearly distinguish sixty-five separate targets. Sixteen of the targets register displacements at or above five hundred thousand metric tons. I have numerous matches against known starship profiles. Target composition is consistent with a large Solomani deep penetration strike fleet. My analysis of the individual vehicle types is as follows:_

_Two Atlas-class battle tenders, three Aquataine-class battleships, one Serengeti-class strike carrier, ten Sequoia-class armored cruisers,..._

Dr. Werner's eyes narrow as the military litany continues. Grey wipes a sheen of sweat from his ashen face and hits the ship-wide commo button, allowing the rest of the crew to hear the terrifying news. _...twenty McMurdo-class escort destroyers, one Cassiar-class heavy cruiser, one Eclipse-class dreadnought, six Buffalo-class fleet tankers, six Ares-class missile tankers, seven Berkshire-class transport tankers._

"Sweet Mary, mother of God!" whispers Grey. Werner leans back away from the console and slides both hands into the deep pockets of his lab coat, silently staring at the streams of data flowing by.

"Pater," murmurs Grey, "what's that *big* one?"

_If the database matches are correct, the largest vessel is an Eclipse- class strike carrier, with a displacement of seven hundred thousand metric tons_

"Seven hun..!" falters Grey. "How many ships does it carry?"

_A fully loaded Eclipse is capable of transporting six-hundred strike fighters_ replies Pater calmly.

"Slide, O'Shi, bring the plant to one-hundred percent, RIGHT NOW!" Grey ignores Werner as he frantically lays in a course directly away from the new contacts.

"Pater, get me a secure maser link to the Kingfisher, and then issue a tight-beam general recall to all ships." Without looking over his shoulder, Grey moans to Werner, "I think I'm a dead man." Werner's only reply is a slightly raised eyebrow.

Doejin finishes the last touches to match the trajectory of the Westwind. Moving to the maintenance station, he implements the initiating procedures for the maintenance arms.

"Well, not what they were completely designed for," he thinks, "but they should do the trick if I help a little." His flukes and mind control dance over the operating panels and sturdy mechanical arms begin extending toward the adjacent Westwind. Suddenly...

In the midst of their conversation and rendezvous with the Westwind, the stentorian voice of the Ring interrupts Ian and the two Phins.

*FERDY! DOEJIN! IAN! THIS IS AN EMERGENCY! You must abandon the shuttle at once. I am opening two gates for you-- I have no time for more. The left one leads to the Surface, and the right one leads to one of the Visitors' ships. You must leave through them immediately-- I am afraid that the Visitors' stay will not be prolonged any more....*

Two archways flash into being. Beyond one, Ian sees the drab common room of the Talisman, with Dave Sokuku still looking dazedly at where Ian had vanished a few minutes ago. Beyond the other, there is the welcoming surface of the Ring-- so close, and yet so far.....

Doejin looks from the familiar surface of the only universe he's ever known to the myteries of his new friends the Visitors, and he makes a decision....

In a state of shock and bewildement...

"No, to be this close to such wonderment and excitement...."

Doejin gives a mental flick to the suit and slowly moves toward the arch-- not to the Ring but to the Talisman.

Christian fires off a last salvo of instructions. "Lucan, attend to these two patients here; Dulinor, monitor the surgical patient; both of you, coordinate with Triple Three and keep an eye on Tweel. Take all necessary actions and report to me if necessary. Secure all patients for combat conditions, including vacc suits!"

He motions frantically to OSF. "Carry me to the main Engineering control area, NOW!" The ungainly warbot scoops Christian up and the two of them fly out of Sickbay at an amazing rate of speed, through the grav lifts and lengthy corridors of the Alcyon, with Christian hanging on to a tentacle and silently cursing the new, dangerous intruders, all the while listening to updates on his commdot.

_Doctor Werner,_ says Pater, _I am detecting a very large number of thermal blooms from the new contacts._ On the senor console a digital counter begins to tally the new energy sources. Within seconds the total number is well into five digits and shows no sign of slowing it's climb. Pater continues, _I am also detecting low-level neutrino emissions from a significant portion of these new contacts. Predictive plots show that the new contacts will impact the surface of R-Alpha in staggered waves. The first wave will intersect the Ring in three minutes, forty-four seconds_

Less than a minute later, a flashbulb-like light snaps on through the bridge viewscreens, and slowly fades. As the light fades, Grey stands and looks for the source. "Somebody in that general vicinity just got toasted." He states. "It must have been pretty good sized to see at over one AU."

Pater immediately reacts to the event. _I am detecting a sharp spike in high-energy particles. Alpha, Beta, and neutron flux at the approximate distance of the new energy source would suggest the activation of a fusion weapon in the one-hundred megaton range. I can no longer detect the derelict orbiting R-Alpha_

From the number one gunnery station, Abdul Schmud exclaims, "Shit! That's the largest blast I've even seen!" After a brief pause, he adds (in a much more dejected tone), "Somebody has a grudge against us."

Just outside the Paladin's fresher door (still open), one can hear the splashing of running water, and a few assorted gurglings. Then, a heavy sigh.

Charyn emerges from the fresher, still shaky but looking much stronger. She walks gingerly but determinedly toward the bridge, taking deep breaths. Her brow is creased from the now-dull pounding in her head. She doesn't miss the Ziru Sirkaa that halted after her little experience in the restroom. *Sandpaper, vinegar and sandpaper. Ecch*

Aboard the bridge, the sensors come to life and the computer laconically reports the new contacts throughout the Paladin's PA. Charyn attempts to furrow her brow further, and moves to a normal walking pace. The count of contacts continues and she hastens her walk -- tough, but at least the shakiness is passing.

The intruder size estimates begin to roll in... On the bridge, Zar et al are listening intently to the reports and a major part of the crew's shocked attention is focused on the main sensor holo. The iris screaks open and Charyn hustles in, just as the actinic FLASH clicks. Momentarily blinded, she stops dead still just inside the iris, swaying slightly.

Charyn moves fluidly to the commo station and dons the commset, an expressive frown of disbelief cast in her face. The computer begins a verbal report an analysis of the flash and is interrupted by an incoming commo signal.

Talon watches as a large cluster of new ships appear on the Westwind's sensors.

"Sheesh. It looks like everyone who wasn't here already has arrived now. I wonder who this bunch--- Shit! Was that a nuclear detonation!?"

"I'm not sure, Nicholas, but it looks very worrying."

"I don't like the look of this, either, Shurv."

+++ incoming transmission +++

Talon turns to observe the commo panel. "I think the newcomers are about to announce themselves. OK, computer, let's have it."

Within thirty seconds of the nuclear detonation, a broadcast message is received by every commo set in the vicinity of the Ring. The holo-tanks show a rather sharp-featured man with a crewcut, wearing the uniform of a Solomani Navy commander.

"This is Commander Joop Croetze-de Vries, adjutant to Admiral Helmut Dietrich, commanding officer of the 211th Fleet of the Solomani Confederation Navy. This star system, it's occupants, and all space vessels are now under the control of the Solomani occupation forces. Ground-based weapon systems are instructed to immediately de-energize and await the arrival of Solomani peacekeeping forces. Spacecraft currently in system are directed to immediately de-energize all weapons and cut maneuvering drives, in preparation for boarding by inspection teams. Failure to immediately comply with *any* of these directives will be met with the harshest penalties. Stand by your communications systems for further instructions." The image instantly fades from the holo-tank.

Simultaneously, the far edge of the ringworld begins to sparkle like a childs quartz necklace. At the same time, popcorn blasts of static blast from the commo system speakers, in perfect unison with the glitter. Many crewmembers with military experience recognize the sight, and sound, of a massive meson gun barrage when it occurs. No one, however, has *ever* seen one that spans an area the size of several entire planetary surfaces.

With a sharp indrawn breath, Johann freezes in position. "How in anybodys name did *that* damn crypto-SSMM'er, crypto-Heiter and crypto-Sanctaterrist get into the SCN?!!"

The console doesn't answer him, it just continues to spew out data on the nuclear explosion, the newly arrived ships and the meson barrage.

"We're all going to die!" moans Abdul. "They don't take prisoners."

No one can see the expression on Lazer's face, hidden behind the helmet faceplate.

Shrike listens intently to the message, toward the end he can be heard quietly muttering, "unbelievable, un_fucking_believable".

As the message ends Shrike looks over at Thul, "Well Thul, which way jumping, is it going to be run or hide? Because I sure as hell ain't gonna just sit here and wait for em."

"Redd, Ralf, get everything up to full power I think we're going to need it real soon."

"Nishu, plot us the quickest course outta here and away from them and then prep another that'll take us down to ring."

"Niigurd, either you or Sokuku try to pull up as much data as you can on the Solomani fleet. See if we have a chance in hell of getting outta here."

"Thul, heard anything from Ger of Vouf yet? Any orders? Anything?"

Thul shakes his head grimly.

The visuals show the far edge of the Ring begin to sparkle with the single and double flashes of meson gun fire. In mounting horror and disbelief, Aolrkhea' focuses an auxiliary sensor platform on the target zone to get a closer look. At this early stage, the barrage is so intense that little more can be seen than the green fields, lush woods, bright deserts, and glittering waters in the target area disappearing forever behind a curtain of blasts and clouds.

"Tiya," Aolrkhea' whispers softly. Nuclear death.

Aolrkhea' has been in the Khaukeairl Space Navy for over twenty years. She has seen death from patients exposed indirectly to meson and nuclear attack. Radiation poisoning. The smell of charred flesh. The fur and flesh burned off or fused to the victims, hanging in gobbets and strips from their pain-wracked bodies. Sometimes they were blinded, and the pus ran down out of the empty eye sockets of the patient, down their charred face. All their fur falling out, until they were as naked as a wyukhui. Strange symptoms a human would call "flu-like", and gangrenous infections. Injuries that wouldn't heal. The mewling of the victims. Sometimes, there was uncontrollable and massive internal hemhorraging, followed by death.

Sometimes, somehow, they survived.

An area the size of worlds is laid waste before her stunned eyes. Half- rising in her seat restraints, she bares her teeth slightly and begins to whisper viciously, softly, at the inferno below and the mocking stars beyond.

"Akyafteirleao hisol'iya'uist, ki i'hkohai, ki rukhtiywe...."

"Oh ghod..." Ralf's voice is a terrified whisper.

A forest fire sparks in Charyn's dark green eyes, the frown vanishes, and she hesitates, but just for a second. Then she beings mumbling in her commo headset and her arms move speedily over the configured display, the actions precise and calculated, austere. Within seconds, she has requested a "best guess" from the computer for the nearest star system with acceptable wilderness refueling, then begun a Nav' calculation to jump there. The calculation is optimized for a quick solution, rather than high exit point accuracy.

She maintains observation of the Commo, Nav calc, drive and passive ECM status. Her expression is one of sour expectation, tinged with urgency. At the instant Joop completes his statement, her attention still riveted on her display, Charyn loudly and clearly states: "Captain! I have begun a rapid jump Nav solution. You may request a drive prep at once".

A spark of imagination so rare among her friends erupts with hope. Dies with a popcorn crackle. "Starship Tactical Manual, Volume 7 Standard Practices. Chapter 7, Hostile Encounters. Section 18: Escape Avenues." *There's nothing here*

Charyn's eyes glaze over for a second, then she turns and looks at 'Zar. Her speech is distinct and filled with resignation: "Captain? Cancel that statement... all options are coming up as inadvisable."

"One. There are no star systems close enough to attempt a jump.

"Two. The survey equipment indicates ZERO suitable bodies in this star system for refueling.

"Three. The equipment sets an upper survivability bound, to find fuel after a random jump to the Oort cometary region, to less than five percent."

She clenches her teeth together and turns to stare at a region of her personal console, the title still emblazoned at the top of the page. There's nothing here... nothing here... nothing here.

She turns to look at 'Zar. Her head is pounding, mouth pasty and dry as a cold french fry. "Captain. Unless you know of a way to get out of here fast like that fancy alien shuttle does, I advise we either attempt to hide from their sensors, or... surrender."

Doejin gives Ian an affirmative flick of the fluke along with a telepathic nod and his course to the Talisman arch is completed.

A slight sense of vertigo and one quick look back for nostalgia and... *The Hoop under ATTACK?!? NOO!!!* and he is through.

The quick anxiety of the Hoop in danger quickly subsides as the new surroundings become apparent and secure in the knowledge that nothing as small as the *Solomani* fleet could even begin to harm the Hoop or his friends in the oceans or his new friends, the Visitors.

With that, he slowly turns in his hover and examines his new home and faces his second Visitor feeling as surprised as Doejin is curious.

Ralf's eyes glaze over for the briefest moment, then he snaps back to reality.

"Bridge, I can't make the numbers work, maybe one of you nav types can. I think we're stuck in-system. Two options: we can try to microjump to the other side of the system, hopefully somewhere the Ring or the star will hide us. Or we can try to hide out here. With this ship I don't know, but they're throwing out enough EM noise of their own to drown out a parade..."

Ralf leaves the elint on auto and concentrates on helping Redd prepare for whatever may come, muttering as an afterthought "Of course we can always blind-jump and HOPE we find fuel..."

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