"Hello Shal, Keirdan," says Corliss, smiling, but nevertheless feeling more than a bit concerned. Where they were headed was no place for any child, child of Crayak or otherwise. He walks past Temrash at one of the manual weapons stations. "I'll take the gun upstairs, if you don't mind?" Without waiting for an answer he climbs swiftly up and begins inspecting the manual weapons console. "Curious," he murmurs. "This is all very Star Wars, innit?"
<Right. Bring on the bloody Death Star,> Michael says flatly. <God, I'm anxious.>
<Don't be. Until we catch up with Seran and Myitt and find out what's going on.>
---
Myitt continues to stare out at the white nothingness of z-space through the main viewports. "It's been...nice...worki ng with you, too, Mar. You didn't have to come, you know. But I certainly hope you don't have to 'die'--" She finger quotes. "--during all this mess. That's never a good time, no matter how immortal you really are." She considers. "Perhaps you can help us intercept Seran in some way, but in your state I don't know how powerful you can be. In the end we may simply have to rely on good, old fashioned Dracon cannons."
---
"I told you to send the last of the cargo ships with the medevac," says Reven Five-Nine-Nine calmly.
"They're leaving now, sir," replies the human tech, a young man named Gerard who was no longer a Controller. Reluctantly, he adds, "What about you? The first of the real evac pods are taking roll call, and everyone's wondering which one you're on."
"We aren't sure we're even going to need a full evacuation yet, Gerard," says Reven, turning to look up at the big holoscreen windows that project the night sky through hundreds of meters of rock. Black ships, cloaked and unseen, are already bristling around the grey exterior of their little moon--but most are heading away into z-space to their emergency rendezvous. Their only evidence is on the red flashing screens hovering in front of several consoles in the dim control room. "If it comes down to it, I'll find a place."
Gerard hesitates a moment more. "Alright, sir. I'll make sure the cargo ships are off and running." He steps off toward the docking bay in a hurry.
Reven sighs and runs a hand through his messy red hair. James hadn't slept in longer than he'd care to admit, and it was taking its toll. They had sent the last of what precious little coffee they'd had with the first of the cargoes.
One of the screens in front of Reven alerts that an incoming transmission is being picked up. It was an encrypted Andalite signal. Immediately interested, he leans forward and taps the screen, reading the message. It was the ship coordinates for the Tyrennian, which Reven knew belonged to Myitt's War-Prince friend Ossanlin. It read simply that the Tyrennian would hold at the designated secondary coordinates and move to the primaries if the Empire did indeed arrive to attack their base. Those who remained would defend it, although if it came down to it the self destruct mechanisms would be deployed rather than expending too many Dracon cannon cells.
Reven keeps staring at the message. The crew of the Tyrennian now knew their location, and given their track record Reven was almost as likely to mistrust an Andalite armada than a Yeerk one. "Myitt," he says softly to himself, "I hope to hell you trust that War-Prince friend of yours, and his crew."
