The Galactic War: Rogue Element ~The Beginning

[Chad32]

<Oh no.> Claxter said worriedly when he heard Z-Space blind jump. Of course they wouldn't bve doing it if it wasn't the only option, but one bad Z-Space experience was enough for one day. <I suggest all bipedal people sit down. It could get bumpy, even with a big ship. Hopefully we'll be fine, though.>

[KitsuneMarie]

"Thanks," Tess gives Enorryma, Keslin and Ossanlin a nod and smile before they leave her to begin tentatively testing out the strange bed, her dark eyes wide as she focuses on not allowing herself to fall through what is essentially thin air.

By the time she hears Ossanlin's announcement, she is securely cradled in the bed. She reaches out to sit up, but there is no way to do it properly, and she makes a choked, nervous sound.


Illim looks up at the announcement, keeping a grip on both Myitt and Terenia. His gaze falls to Serid as the Andalite steps forward.


<New friends,> Serid calls to the humans and Yeerks who are still standing before him, <Warrior Claxter's advice is good: please remain calm and find something to steady yourself. We are in good hands, I assure you.>

[Luke Skywalker (Ossanlin)]

Ossanlin watches the monitor as the unidentified ship closes with the exposed planet core.  <We're out of time.  Verden, save as much information from the probe as you can, then transmit the self-destruction directive.  The last thing we need is them finding Andalite tech floating here.>


Verden nods before speaking up.  <Destruct directive transmitted sir.>


<Enorryma, we'll need to do another blind jump immediately after this one without re-orienting the ship.  Execute the second jump as soon as you can after the first.>  He pauses a moment, and his eyes harden as he give the command.  <Mark!>  He grips his console...the first jump wouldn't be that bad, not in a Dome Ship, but the second would be reality-wrenching.

[Estelore]

Enorryma's eyes widened at the prospect of a double blind-jump, but she immediately returned her focus to her console.

<Jumping.>

The ship gave its usual minimal protestation, its hull and force fields deforming in the typical manner and then rebounding as they passed into the marshmallow-whiteness and then back out again almost immediately.
<Sensors, get me a key on major masses in the vicinity, and rule them out for second-jump targeting.>

She couldn't be sure that the ship would have enough time to key up every likely hazard. As soon as it turned out coordinates for two large masses, she started calculations for a location equidistant to both, hoping that being in two opposing gravity wells would keep the ship from jumping directly into either of them. Within moments, she had her position targeted, blindly hoping that there were no other objects already inhabiting it.

<Second jumping.>

The vessel made a disconcerting groan in objection to the forces at play.

[Luke Skywalker (Ossanlin)]

Ossanlin grimaces as the second jump occurs, the ship and everything around him almost seeming to bend at the close distortion...but even
Sector 7 shouldn't be able to track anything through that.

Finally the stars blink back into view...their surroundings appear to be a binary star-system, and they'd emerged directly between the two stars.  The gravity between the two would have unfortunate consequences if the Tyrennian doesn't move soon.

<Helm, take us beyond these stars.>

The ship moves forward seamlessly, eventually pulling to a safe distance before stopping again.  <Good work, Enorryma.  That was too close.  Yaolin Sector 7...always turning up unwanted.>  He hadn't really meant to say that last part out loud, but he's distracted by the thoughts of how the Mirage had been traced.  Hopefully the double-jump ruse would fool the trackers, but best not to dawdle and find out.

<We need coordinates.>  He turns from his console and glances at the gathered rebels.  <We need to find your remaining survivors.  Can anyone supply Prince-Commander Enorryma with appropriate coordinates?  We need to be underway.>



~



<Sir, we're detecting a buildup of Z-strain radiation on the far side of the planet core.>

Cendir curses to herself.  She'd let the first one slide, but this second one...she would have to take action.  <Plot a pursuit course, and if you call me "sir" one more time, your head will find its way free of your neck.>

<Y-yes, Mistress.>  The cowed operative starts plotting a pursuit course when another speaks up.

<Mistress, we've detected a localized implosion charge to our port.>

Cendir sneers...a sensor probe, of course.  The planet-core would've interfered with the enemy's sensors too...they'd had a probe watching nearby.  <Note the location of the implosion, but follow that Z-wake...they must've jumped blind, they won't have gone far.>

The blank whiteness of Z-Space envelopes Model 71 for a moment before reverting.  Cendir suddenly stumbles at some sort of sudden irregularity.

<Mistress...we're reading massive Z-Strain fluctuations...they must've blind-jumped again...we must withdraw.>

<Yaolin!  Take us back to the exposed planet core, perhaps we'll find something of use there...>

<Are we breaking off the pursuit, then, Mistress?>

<They jumped randomly...they could have traveled any direction from this point, literally any direction, and if they've done it again...it's a waste of time.>  Cendir fumes to herself.  She'd been so close to success only to have it dashed away in the strike of a tail.  Still, Iksilon would be pleased with any data they might manage to scrounge up.

After a few moments of blank whiteness again, the exposed planet core looms in front of Model 71.  <Examine the implosion charge first...then we'll need to pull any energy data from around that planet-core.>  She takes a few deep breaths...she'd been all but ready to dial up Iksilon with her triumphal news...perhaps it would be better to wait until she'd finished collecting whatever data the enemy had left behind.  <Perhaps we can at least find out why they stopped here.>

Model 71 slows as it nears the small implosion, scanning for information.  <The size of the dispersal cloud would suggest something the size of a sensor-probe, Mistress.  Apparently armed with a proton implosion charge.  Nothing remains but ionized gas.  The data is inconclusive.>

Cendir hisses to herself.  Not even a scrap of tech left behind, even for Model 71's incredibly gifted sensor arrays.  <The planet core then.>

Model 71 glides to the exposed planet core and begins a broad-spectrum sweep.  Cendir takes a deep breath...she needs something to give to Iksilon. 

<Mistress, the sensors have found a radiation pattern in orbit around the planet-core.  It's very faint.>

<Show me.>  Cendir glances up at the main view-screen as holographic projectors colorize a series of bands around the small planet-core.

<Interesting...inter esting.  The radiation patterns we picked up at Corvus...run a comparison.>  Cendir begins to tap her cheek, this time in restrained joy and no little bit of relief.  Iksilon liked interesting things.

<They do not match, Mistress.  Whatever ship created this radiation pattern was much larger than the ship that landed at Corvus.  The computer suggests a Blade Ship as a possible match.  Whatever it was, it's much larger than the ship that left Corvus.>

Cendir begins to smile.  That was why the enemy stopped here...to rendezvous.  A capital ship...now that was interesting.  <Continue your analysis.  I will be in my private quarters.>

A chorus of <Yes, mistress...> follows Cendir as she makes her way a short distance down the hall to her quarters.  She enters and immediately removes her transponder, sending an encrypted hail to Iksilon on their dedicated clear channel.

[Terenia]

Efaen's cheeks redden at Claxter's implication that the rebels had brainwashed her. She turns to respond, but then Ossanlin's voice fills her mind, veering her thoughts in another direction. How safe can this place possibly be, she wonders as she lowers herself to the ground, preparing for the bumpy ride.


Chris' eyebrows raise and Keslin moves over to the wall, so that he can brace himself if need be. The double jump is disorienting, but he keeps his balance well enough. He takes a few moments to catch his breath, and to allow Ossanlin to speak to his crew, before he speaks up.

"Ossanlin," Keslin says quietly. "How much danger are we in at being discovered and recaptured by your people?"

[Luke Skywalker (Ossanlin)]

Ossanlin glances at Keslin.  <Larger than I thought, and it grows with every moment we remain stationary.  We need a bearing if you have one.>

[Chad32]

Claxter managed to maintain balance as the ship shook, and was glad when it stopped. <I take it we're being pursued.> He said to Serid. <More combat with fellow Andalites seems inevitable, uncomfortable as it may be.>

[Luke Skywalker (Ossanlin)]

Ossanlin frowns slightly at the suddenly-mute rebels...  <I honestly thought you'd all be a bit more eager to reunite with the rest of your survivors.>

Why had they all suddenly fallen so deathly silent?  The most-obvious explanation is that they still don't trust him, regardless of everything he's done.  The others might have excuses for distrust...but Myitt should know better, and should've had enough weight with the rest to be able to reassure them.  Perhaps she'd over-stated her station amongst the rebels, though that seems like a highly unlikely scenario given what Ossanlin knows personally of Myitt.

He directs a stalk-eye at Enorryma without removing his main eyes from the rebels.  <Enorryma, I noticed you working the holo-charts with one of the rebels aboard the Mirage.  Were you able to ascertain any coordinates that could at least get us moving in a proper direction?>

[Estelore]

<I can at least get us within the correct sector. Anything more specific than that, I cannot say, Sir.>

She dialed up a galactic map on her console and zoomed in on the area of this arm of the galaxy where she had seen the Controllers focusing their calculations. This would be like finding one blade of grass in a field, but perhaps they would get lucky: maybe a Controller would start talking, or maybe they would find sensors or other evidence of habitation, which could point them in a more refined direction.

[Luke Skywalker (Ossanlin)]

<Get us moving, then.  We can't afford to sit on our haunches with Sector Seven hunting us.>  Ossanlin nods.  Hopefully one of the rebels would be willing to provide a more-direct set of coordinates...

He turns back to his console, bringing up the same galactic map that Enorryma has up, watching her plot the course.  Even with a near-optimal curvature of Z-Space, the journey would take a few days.  He silently hopes that the Rebels had informed Enorryma correctly...if not, this would be a very long and fruitless detour.

[KitsuneMarie]

Illim looks between the fellow rebels who had followed Ossanlin. His skin is plane from the jump, but he looks determined. Turning his eyes  on Ossanlin, he murmurs, "If you're willing to do this to run from your people--if you're willing to continue saving us--then I think we should trust you with the first set of coordinates. I can't promise they won't fire on us if they're there waiting, though," he raises his eyebrows. "You're gonna have to be quick about reaching out to them."


Serid turns his main eyes on him. <We cannot know that,> he replies stiffly. <I do not relish the idea of creating more and more enemies in this war. Not after I have finally made some friends.>

He looks around at the humans who have remained with him. <Are you all well? Is anyone injured?>


Tess moans in relief when the ship seems to settle, her hands clasped over her stomach. "God, can't we just have some quiet?" she whispers to her empty quarters.

[Chad32]

<It would be ideal if we could focus solely on the Empire, and avoid any hostile Andalites. Now that things have settled, let's get the guests to the rooms.>

<If you're all ready to continue, let's show you to your quarters.> He said to the group.

[Shenmue654]

Keshin and Joanne follow Ossanlin all the way to the bridge, perhaps against their better judgment. They cannot retire until they know if they will even live for another month aboard Ossanlin's ship. Keshin rubs Joanne's chest again---the pain seems to have completely subsided now. Good---they really can't afford an attack on an Andalite ship.

Ossanlin's bridge seems to be an orderly and quiet place, right up until they find out they're being tracked by another group of Andalites. Keshin really has to wonder what's going on with this race---how many special forces are there, exactly? The Electorate is evidently somewhere between a well-oiled machine and a bureaucratic faction-filled nightmare.

<Heh. Sounds jus' like the Empire. They ain't too different from their enemies.>

<I could have told you that.>

Keshin clears his throat and his mind, enduring the jumps on unsteady footing. He stumbles somewhat, but manages to maintain is around. He does not believe that he should interrupt Ossanlin while he's working----best to talk about their own particular problems when the moment calls for it.

"A--Are we safe yet?" says Keshin in a voice that shows how honestly confused and out of place he is. The Andalite world is foreign to him, and the rebels might feel the same way.

[Luke Skywalker (Ossanlin)]

Ossanlin glances at Illim and nods.  <I appreciate it.  I do hope to avoid conflict, and I'm not quite sure how to do it yet...perhaps have one of you send a communique out to the zone shortly before we arrive...it would be better for them to hear from their own people first.>

He turns his main eyes on Keshin.  <Safe?  I don't know that we'll ever be safe again...but we seem to have lost them for the moment.  It was a small ship, probably not a match for the Tyrennian, but I'm sure it was laden with all sorts of 'nonexistent' technology.  And who's to say they wouldn't be able to simply disarm the ship?  It may be possible.>  Ossanlin shakes his head.

<Sector 7 is the last entity we want to have tracking us.  I'm sure our ruse about the Tyrennian being destroyed has held up with the Electorate, and maybe even with Sector 7.  But if anyone is able to see through the smoke, it's Sector 7.  Our best defense is the belief that we are dead.  Why hunt down something that's been obliterated or someone who's been destroyed?>  Ossanlin turns his main eyes back to the console, but his stalk eyes continue roaming over the rebels.  <Regardless, they'll know something's off about the situation now.  I hope we've not left enough evidence for them to piece the truth together yet.>