DeviousMe

"Wilco." Acid replied from down the hall, indicating he understood Sheldon's position and did not expect a response.

He left it at that as he placed his hand upon the contact plate of an elevator, the convex covering doors sliding open freely to allow passage into the tubular chamber. Moments later, they closed once again as the cabin's occupant selected his destination. He had a long way to go teaching the Vanguard personnel how to work a starship.

In any case, the bridge would be first. He had to start somewhere, and even though it might take quite a while to get the point across for respectable operation, if the command deck was capable, then at least things could be run from there in case of an emergency...

--------------------

"Oh, no reason." Acid's teeth bared themselves in a sinister grin for a moment in reaction to Randall's question, adding a slight chuckle to the end of his answer, then took some time to shut his own yap and listen for once. Ryat66 and the warlock had some good points. But who or what could or would do something like that? It just didn't make any sense.

"Took the words right out of my mouth." the reptilian added to Randall's summation, standing from his crouched position and taking his combi-rifle in hand again, "Same goes for damage. I'm afraid I'm extremely allergic to pain."

He'd hoped Randall would take point after deciding on a direction, but apparently this was no so. Too bad - hopefully not for him. Thus proceeding ahead in the indicated direction, Acid and the group behind him soon came to the end of the path.

Quite literally.

The path straight ahead led outside again alright, but the bridge that had been here had apparently give up its duties ages ago. A sheer vertical drop now dominated this side of the tower, the structure having extended far beyond the mountain on this side. Apparently, whoever had built it had not believed in biaxial symmetry.

The drop seemed to lead into some sort of valley - either that or a lake, depending on what hid underneath the steamy mist a few dozen meters below their current elevation; even thermal sensors couldn't penetrate it - and out of said depression rose the bulk of the towering structures, the whole thing rimmed by a respectably expansive mountain range.

"So much for straight ahead." Acid remarked with mild annoyance, spying across the gap to the tower the now-gone bridge had once led, "Gotta be at least a hundred meters, probably more. Who all can make...?"

His question suddenly came to an end, without warning and from one moment to another. His head ducked down a little, eyes focusing on something in the distance. The reptilian had seen something, this was sure. While he probably hadn't the keenest vision of the group - meaning others could probably pick up on this more or less easily, depending on their own optics - he could take note of motion very well, as just about any predator.

Thus being, he quickly managed to find the source, though me may well not have been the first.

Across the steam-filled chasm and to the left, on one of the still-intact bridges that led from one tower to another, there walked a trio of humans, dressed in cutting-edge uniforms of midnight blue.

Malta Operatives.

Now things started to make sense. Malta had the know-how and resources to travel here, the ruthlessness and raw firepower to wipe the floor even with Nemesis Army forces, and the cunning and gear to clean up any mess they might have left behind.

Still, they were a mortal force, only human. Someone had missed that last spot of blood, hidden away in the niche where Acid had found it.

So there were Malta. At least three.

The Khelari couldn't tell from here, the slight haze of rain blurring the image in conjunction with the lateral distance too much for him, but others were perhaps able to discern that the group of three consisted of two Operation Engineers and a TacOps Commander, the latter of which spoke into a radio of some sort as they walked.

Not being one who let information slip between his claws, Acid raised the scope of his rifle to his eye in order to compensate for the distance, scrutinizing their path closely. The tower they'd come from and the one they'd picked as their destination stood almost at a right angle to the group's viewpoint; meaning from here, the Malta journeyed nearly directly from right to left. Their departure point didn't hold anything interesting to see, but through his scope the reptilian could see the corridor that their bridge became upon connecting with their destination tower held some sort of screen - a circular, almost parabolic display that showed...well, actually, it didn't show anything but a blank, reflective surface.

It was the reflection of something that stood within the corridor, hidden from direct sight, that piqued the reptilian's interest enough for him to utter, "Hey guys...check this out."

The reflection was that of a robot. A mechanoid of the 'Assault Bot' type, to be more precise...

--------------------

"I don't know." was the answer Jack 7 received, likely much to his confusion, curt and accompanied by a slight shrug of the man's hands, not to mention spoken in a tone that suggested the man didn't really care - that it feel by the wayside, unimportant as could be, "You can call me Termoplast. Everyone else does..."

--------------------

It didn't take long for Jake's device to run into some trouble. It may have been partially arcane, but that certainly didn't mean the mystic barrier around the Rikti homeworld would suddenly ignore it. If this had been true, just about anyone could've come here by now.

The barrier reacted.

Violently.

After the sixth drone, Jake's device experienced a sudden and very dangerous power surge. If the thing was capable of overloading, it would do so in no time at all. Already, the still-active weavings of humanity's most experienced heroic mystics that had utterly squashed any attempt at traveling to or from the Rikti homeworld for so long sought to wreak havoc by simply tearing the device apart.

Whether they succeeded or not, however, one thing was clear: Jake would have to figure out just how the Rikti had managed to break through the barrier before he could safely transport anything here by his own means...

((That's my fault. I keep wanting to post my next move, but then reprimand myself for not giving everyone a chance to make their own yet, and delete the post again. ))

"Whichever makes your mind feel more at ease." the Krayten told Experiment with a sly smirk as they walked, taking a moment to remark toward Igor, "I'm afraid your conveyance won't be finding you here. The android's deduction is quite correct."

Indeed, not a single outside power knew of the Labtower's existence (or had until now), its protections sneaky enough to deter any and all prying eyes, whether from this world or another.

"Oh, must be more than twenty years now." Vern answered the robotic mastermind's inquiry as he led the group to the left at an intersection of corridors, heading for an empty, circular shaft of impressive size, most likely a cargo elevator of some sort, "And we haven't fiddled with a thing, my dear Toy. We're not allowed, you know. Thankfully, I was able to find some competent assistance around. Yes, good help is truly hard to find - but I dare say it was well worth the effort."

Arriving at floor's edge, the Krayten' wings twitched slightly in an instinctive reaction ot the sudden drop-off ahead. The cylindrical shaft must've been at least a dozen meters in diameter, stretching up and down who knew how far, and the absence of an actual elevator platform combined with the general lack of lighting inside the thing (only a few sparse points of white light hung symmetrically arrayed along the walls) created a reasonable sense of depth and foreboding in just about anyone.

Still, Vern did not stop, nor even slow down, walking into the thin air of the vertical tube as if it was the most normal thing in the world. Indeed, here it certainly was, as the upward polarized gravity field that dominated space inside the shaft offered both firm support and a ride at comfortable pace as it pulled Vern and the group after him into the regions above. Truly, the field could already be felt by just sticking one's arm into the pipe, and from that point on it gave the body the distinct command of 'Up!'.

The thing certainly seemed to have a mind of its own, speeding up and slowing down the group's members in tandem as it took them past several sealed blast gates that quite frankly resembled nothing but veritable outpourings of resistance. No matter what the symbols painted on the gateways denoted - probably floor numbers - it stood to reason that these doors wouldn't give to anything less than full-scale artillery bombardment. Even then, estimated results could be dubious.

Luckily, it didn't come to anything like that. A number of floors up, another gate stood open, letting light from its corridor wash into the gloom of the shaft, and thereby making its presence known long before the elevator deposited its passengers gently on their destination level.

From there, Vern wasted no time, heading right in the transverse corridor that curved somewhat like a ring, making sure the others could follow as the final gate ahead slid into the ceiling to reveal a long, rectangular chamber, the far end of which seemed open to the outside. Still, it was quickly evident that appearances were deceiving, as the overcast skies of Siberia that could be seen through the hangar-like opening certainly had not caused the temperature within the chamber to drop. Some manner of transparent protection kept the frigid air at bay.

This, however, fell quite by the wayside when one considered just what the chamber contained. Sitting idly on a standard gauge was a train the like of which could be found traveling on the Trans-Siberian at any given time of day in modern times, with any given kind of commuter, looking perfectly normal and ordinary in every single way.

"I present to you our 'geological expedition's' mobile laboratory." Vern explained right away, finding himself chuckling a bit at the words, "The papers in the Kremlin are being finalized as we speak, and should arrive within the hour. Probably even sooner. Everything's on the straight and narrow, permitted, allowed, and perfectly legal. They're not even going to have a clue anything's up until it's far too late. Ladies and gentlemen, do please make your way on board, as we are ready to depart..."

"Well, if that's what you want..." Acid left the statement open with a slight shrug of his shoulders, hand closest to Sheldon expanding its clawed fingers in a helpless gesture. With Wallace having been unforthcoming about his expertise, the reptilian thought it best to just leave the man up to his own devices.

Still, if the inventor's distinguishing qualities with respect to this ship lay in the fields of propulsion machinery, his mind may have been crossed by the thought that he'd probably be very useful coordinating the distribution of power production from the bridge. If thus be, the Khelari would certainly agree, even as he already made his way to an elevator...

--------------------

"Perceptive, aren't we?" Acid returned to the Ryat unit with a sarcastic smirk of teeth while waving off Randall's flask. Unlike humans, the Khelari had never left the predatory path of their ancestors. While to Randall the thought of hunting down one's dinner might have been appalling, to the reptilian it was perfectly natural, akin to making a beer run at the local store. A good few species had perceived them as not quite right in the head due to this behavior - a technologically and sociologically highly advanced people rending live prey apart with their bare claws was seen as strange not only by human standards - one more reason why so many had been fervent to avoid the Khelari.

"Thanks, but I don't much care for alcohol." Acid opted to tell Grey instead of the whole story, continuing with his answer to Ryat66, "Yeak, no kidding I'm on edge. By all accounts, Nemmy's goons should be here, a dozen traps should've gone off by now, and I should already be complaining and calling snipers inconsiderate jerks again. So unless this blood here's fake, which it pretty much can't be - I like to shore the delusion that I'm an expert when it comes to this kind of stuff - that means there's a very good reason we haven't already been ambushed. What's upsetting me here is that I can't see that reason."

Unvocalized and however slim, there of course existed the possibility that Nemesis didn't have anything to do with this at all - but Acid wasn't about to believe it was all mere coincidence. Even if Ryat66 informed him that his sensors weren't picking up anything more than normal levels of copper and zinc in the materials that composed the tower (and certainly not in the form of brass), the reptilian stood convinced that the strategic worth of this location would be too great for Nemesis to not occupy.

Still, there seemed to be no trace of the brassen Lord or his army. Indeed, if the Ryat unit's sensors could detect so, he would arrive at the notion that the place was too clean. There existed an almost too distinct lack of evidence - but not by much. The android needed to be very thorough indeed to take note.

Be what may, however, the expected ambush certainly wasn't very forthcoming, the light patter of rain outside the only ambience about. The trapezoidal corridor stood wide, tall, and empty, luminescent bodies on walls and ceiling casting their yellow light about as they had for centuries; never ceasing, never changing.

The hall led on for a bit, then split into three paths at right angles to one another. Ahead, anyone who cared to look could already see that the straight path led outside again, to the other end of the mountain that held the landing area and its tower. Through the thin viel of water, other towers and bridge-like structures were somewhat visible, the water's light haze obscuring details for now. In contrast, the ways that branched left and right became ramps that ascended at a modest angle, then curved at some point afterward. Still, they seemed to lead outside again as well, for the soft sound of falling rain could be heard coming from there also.

Acid may still have stood over the spot of half-dried blood, but by the look of the reptilian, he'd be ready to move on once someone felled a decision that concerned which way to proceed...

--------------------

Regretfully, the efforts of the heroic underwater expedition were in vain. The trail ended here, this was a fact. It stood to reason that whoever had driven the Ferrari had been extremely thorough in either transporting it away while not leaving a trace, or alternately getting rid of the thing via destruction with much of the same.

In any case, this particular track wasn't going anywhere, despite the sensitive nose of Matt's motorcycle and the technology at the group's disposal. They were up against someone very smart and thorough, able to anticipate just about any possible action of theirs...or they faced a victim of extreme paranoia.

However, that could well have been a clue in itself. After all, wasn't there an organization around whose collective paranoia meters could go through the roof by nothing more than a misplaced shipping label...?

--------------------

"Tried and failed." a calm, serious voice from behind pre-empted the response of the Longbow soldier. Chances were the four heroes had very well noticed the approach, but paid no mind to the PPD car that head meanwhile pulled up to the gate.

The vehicle's passenger window had been rolled down, allowing the owner of the voice to both hear and speak freely with others outside as the car slowed to a stop. Now that its motion had ceased, however, it didn't take but a few moments for the door to pop open and the sole of a thick, obsidian-blue boot trimmed in navajo white to tap the asphalt.

A second boot soon set down beside the first, and its owner didn't hesitate to follow, acting neither with nor without due haste as he rose from his seat. All in all, the man stood a little less than two meters tall, clad in a semi-oriental assembly of shaded white and the same obsidian blue, the two hues alternating on the pants of some manner of uniform.

A cloth belt of white wrapped around the waist, where the mostly blue baggy clothing of the torso ended, a single bandolier of cloth wrapping about from shoulder to abdomen's side. The sleeves were white once more, shoulders and upper arms protected by what could have been the armor of a Samurai. The distinct no ichi style carried seamlessly to the gloves about hands and lower arms, once more a mixture of obsidian blue and darkened white.

A long, white cape wrapped thickly about the man and over his shoulders, leading gently into a large reaper cloth that hid the lower half of his face. Round glasses that carried the crimson hue of blood obscured his eyes behind opaque lenses, though a portion of the tri-scar that ran into the right eye and across much of that half of his face stood rather hard to miss.

"Thanks for the ride." the man told his unseen driver - hidden by the mirrored exterior of the car windows - with a cool and collected tone, sounding somewhat like a mixture between a lawyer and surfer bum, then shut the door again. However, the car did not yet depart...

((And if the description wasn't vivid enough, here's a shot from "A Redcap Stole my Kitchen!" ))

((No.))

((Yeah, I kinda lost the urge here. Just...too boring, sorry. ))

OOC:

I wasn't going to say anything, but c'mon, use some common sense. Here, reply to this post and continue your story. This is a reply to the first post on page 60, long before the troll came, and hence disconnected from the chain of deletion.

Mind you, this is not a guarantee, only logical deduction. Since this post contains no chain to the troll reply, it and any replies to it should be safe from deletion. Again, this is not a guarantee.

That is all. Dismissed.

((Ah, gotcha.))

((Well, of course. I'm sorry, but I don't know what possessed you to think otherwise, especially since I never said anything about cold in my post. It's Siberia. It's cold. You don't leave a building unheated there. And man-dog-thing? Vern's gonna fall over laughing when I tell him that one. ))

Vern wasn't quite sure what the entire ruckus was about. The Labtower's interior held a temperature quite comfortable for humans, and there wasn't any snow either. After all, why would one have snow lying around inside a building? Even in Siberia, that didn't make any sort of sense at all.

Then again, Vern's mind naturally worked in a manner that greatly differed from a human's. He never would have considered that there existed a chance for the reason to be psychological. A Krayten simply didn't think that way. He couldn't understand it - so he let it be without comment. At least nobody was asking questions about the roots.

"Of course it's known territory." Vern told the Ryat unit as they walked, "And I bet you would. But I'll have to disappoint you there..."

Diov, you're not stupid, you just lack a healthy amount of common sense. The answer is the same as Mars: because it's cool. Or more specifically, because Khell, like Ess, Ascendant, and (at least I like to shore the delusion ) myself, knows his drama.

I dunno...trespases and sins are somewhat synonyms, so not close enough for contention in my book.

Also: Mars. That's why.

"Negative." Acid voiced his protest with calm tone, the reptilian's gaze not straying from the path for even a split second, "And you'll know as soon as I know."

He stopped for a moment at the tower's entryway, seeming unsure whether to proceed. In truth, he endeavored to find any trap his mind could presently conceive, but again to no avail. There simply wasn't anything sinister hiding in the shadows - and that made Acid most apprehensive of all. There should have been something there!

After all, if this location was so perfect - so isolated, forgotten, and generally unimportant - and they had come to claim it, it stood to reason that nothing at all prevented Nemesis from doing the very same thing. Worse yet, the guy had gotten a good deal more time to play with than they had; he had quite the considerable head start.

Due frustration therefore abound. Nemesis wasn't one to forego the usefulness of traps, so where were they? All that Acid could see were aged spots and smears upon the finely crafted, if timeworn masonry of the trapezoidal entryway's walls and floor, and those certainly didn't look very fiendish.

The smell of one, however, told a vastly different tale.

The second the Khelari had stepped out of the rain into the corridor, the stench of death hung thick enough in the air to drive just about any predator's senses to high alert. One of the rust-brown smears on the floor seemed to grab Acid's attention in particular, the viscous puddle about the size of a human hand the largest of its kind about, tucked against the junction line of wall and floor in some form of niche right at the wide hallway’s beginnings, the entryway’s far extremity.

The reptilian inched closer to the thing, sniffing the air repeatedly to confirm this was indeed where the trail led. His head hovered close for a few moments, followed by the quickest means of analysis Acid had at his disposal - he licked the floor.

Dragging his long tongue through the puddle, he didn't wait for anyone's commentary, instead telling them what anyone with a spectrograph of some other means of molecular material analysis would stand to discover right about now, "Blood. Human. Adult male. Can't be more than a day old. State of high stress, but not fear. More like...shame. Like he felt he'd done something unforgivable..."

--------------------

Whether crazy, stupid, or anything else, the motorcycle's rider would find his vehicle at a dead stop no more than a hundred meters out to sea - unless of course the vehicle decided to arrange a sudden dive, in which case said rider would find himself at mentioned dead stop on the ocean floor. The water wasn't too deep this relatively close to shore, but this fish or that crab may have certainly given the man and bike a funny eye.

Be what may, however, it seemed the trial ended here. The place was a dead end. Whoever had driven the odd Ferrari seemed to value his privacy a great deal, and had taken deft precautions. Matt's attempt to trail the vehicle wouldn't be going anywhere...

--------------------

"Lost in translation." Acid replied to Sheldon with an opening of his hand, the gesture to convey roughly the same significance as a shrug, "Your words suggested you believed there to be only one engine. I'm not a telepath yet, you know - and English is certainly not my first language, heh. You do need to speak clearly with me."

"Taking that aside," he continued with a toothy grin, "what makes you think anything's not working? This thing just came out of the factory. Literally zero mileage. Got that new ship smell and everything. It's in prime shape. The shields are down because I left them off, not because they're busted. Not sure where you got that idea from."

"In any case, I'm not really sure where to put you at this point." the reptilian admitted, his long tail forming a curl of indistinct purpose for a moment, "Like I said, everything to do with ship movement's run form the bridge or fire control. The stuff in the reactors is manual backup and maintenance, which I'd just planned on getting a few technical personnel to keep an eye on if we had any to spare. Or do you do anything aside from engineering? Astrogation, piloting, detection, communication, gunnery, security, psychology of artificial beings...?"

--------------------

A pair of heavy plates ground apart without so much as the slightest noise, the near-vacuum about robbing the environment of the ability to carry the airlock's cycle sound. Likewise, the HVAS unit that now stepped from the open exterior door moved silent as death itself despite its mass and bulk.

The machine's systems ran diagnostics on and again. The frigid temperatures and harsh solar radiation meant it couldn't last for extended periods out here without its materials starting to break down. Nevertheless, calculations suggested malfunctions wouldn't begin to manifest for a tolerable span of time. The mechanoid's processor gave the all clear to proceed.

Slowly but surely, the bulky machine pursued a path to the provided coordinates, its mission to approach close enough to the undead sorcerer's last known position and relay anything it observed.

Still, Archlich had been quite accurate in his calculations - its sluggish pace would most likely prevent the machine from getting there in any amount of time even close to what the ritual necessitated. The undead sorcerer may have just as well had all the time in the world; for a respectable stretch, he could pry across the planes unobserved by Vanguard whenever he wished so...

--------------------

"Yeah," the Longbow soldier replied calmly as he observed the gate camera turning at the arrivals to inspect the four. Since the last quartet had been exposed, the security personnel had naturally tightened everything up a bit. Yet another group of four of course drew due suspicion, "what of it?"

The optical lens now zoomed to get a clearer picture of the newcomers, mustering each closely in order to produce images of sufficient quality for any future comparisons. What did they look like...?

--------------------

A dull sound of thunder.

Port shield generator damaged. Rerouting power.

All about seemed to bob and weave.

Communications nodes have been destroyed. Contact with the fleet has been lost.

Another impact.

Port shields are down. Increasing concentration of anti-fighter weapons fire in affected areas.

The tremors returned, steadily worsening.

Intruder alert. Sealing all non-critical areas. All personnel, retreat to secure areas immediately.

People shouted in all tongues. Chaos raged.

Hostile weapons fire detected in Deck Alpha transit hall. Automatic security response initiated. Security team to Deck Alpha transit hall.

Darkness consumed all.

He awoke with a start, tearing the rags from his face. A transparent ceiling peeled itself from his blurred vision, the large curve of canopy overhead allowing the full starscape outside to his view with no trouble at all. The cockpit lay in shadow, not permitting view of much else.

"Linear maneuver terminated." a soft female voice announced as he felt his back lifted from behind, the seat that conformed to his bodily contours raising itself into a somewhat more vertical position, "Stealth mode engaged. Diagnostic completed. Deactivating automatic pilot."

"Nav system initiated." the voice continued as panel after panel ahead came to life in iridescence of varied blues, touchscreens representing all manner of controls and instruments appearing on formerly black slates once more, the low level of light at least returning shape to the cockpit, "Command interface enabled. Requesting new heading."

New heading? What was going on here? Where was he? And why did his head hurt?

No, scratch that. The last one he knew. The first officer had clubbed him with his own command chair. Then a pair of engineering crew had wrapped their tentacles around him and carried him off.

A clawed, four-fingered fist rammed itself forcefully into the port console, but to no effect aside from a twinge of pain and a slight vent of frustration. It figured. It truly did. When would he finally learn to make people swear an oath of loyalty or something? Maybe then those morons would stop taking the damn beam!

Okay, calm down. First of all, there's still a chance they made it out of there. And if they didn't, I can't just smash their work by doing something stupid now. Have to think logically.

More than likely, someone had just punched some random coordinates into the autopilot and set it to go. Considering the command interface had been disabled until just now, they'd wanted to make doubly sure he couldn't turn around once he freed himself. That also meant the flight systems had been flying on sight, not keeping track of the ship's actual position. He'd have to reacquire it.

Very well, that wasn't so tough. A few taps upon the navigation screens, and periwinkle and cerulean symbol groups already rearranged themselves on Prussian blue templates, the boardpositronic calculating its new position. It didn't take but a few seconds to spit out a result.

"Lotron system." the positronic had fished from the old Arcon star catalogues, "Displaying position."

A projection of the system popped into view on the HUD, snow-white lines illustrating the orbits of eight full-color planets circling a small, yellow sun. However, it was the third planet that truly caught his eye - its presence coupled with the asteroid belt and ring system about the sixth planet left almost no doubt.

Still, it would've been an astronomical coincidence. He had to be sure.

"Course laid in." the mainframe stated as the ship's engines came to life with a dull roar through the aft bulkhead and the visible starscape rotated, the ship assuming the new heading only moments after the first few taps upon the command console. To his great surprise, the third planet’s rounding came into view almost immediately. He’d been even closer than he’d thought, “Ship reorientation complete. Orbit status: stable.”

"Scan initiated." came the prompt reply to the entered instructions, an oscillogram fluttering across the HUD instead of the system chart now, odd tones and voices mingling with cosmic background noise. It sounded horribly mangled, but luckily his ears wouldn't have to differentiate anything. That was the machine's job.

"Positive match." said system concluded against expectations, displaying its findings in textual form, "Search term 'Acid Zero' is present on multiple counts."

Hah! So this was the system that nonconformist punk had told him about. There Acid was, and in a live transmission too. Excellent. Now all he had to do was...

"Warning - hostile ship approaching." the positronic stated with a calm only a machine could convey such a troubling observation with. It identified the type shortly after, and he knew the pilot only too well.

Luckily, or so it seemed, his pursuer's sensors failed miserably at his own ship's stealth functions, instead rushing past and directly for the planet. He almost let out a chuckle.

Then he realized there wasn't anything to laugh about.

The text on the HUD practically stung into his eye as he realized his pursuer had no doubt picked up on the very same transmission. This had just become a race against time...

"Good." was Vern's answer, and with that a bright flash of white filled the room for a moment. It wasn't blinding, or even savagely luminescent, giving more the impression that someone had just erased all color but white for a fraction of a second. Then it was already over.

Just before the nearest wall now hovered a circular vortex of white, roughly four meters in diameter and composed of the same light that had filled everyone’s views the instant before - not blinding, not stinging, but merely carrying the appearance of a painter having drawn a blank white canvas over said spot of wall.

"Well, come on." the Krayten urged the others on, "We've a job to do. No time to dawdle."

To that end, Vern intended to step through last, the spindly mechanoid ceasing its fowl-like actions and reshaping itself into an approximately quarter-meter-long tube instead. M had deactivated the communications droid for now.

The workings of the light gate were fairly basic - it simply attuned its endpoints to one another, merging them into one, but without all the nasty side effects of bending space and time or some-such. Its working principle was much, much more basic than that, not even touching any such relevance.

On the other side lay what one might expect - the Labtower's portal terminal; a large, rectangular chamber that aside from the raise platform and ramp that formed passage for a few large-bore gateway rings of apparently metallic composition, seemed to contain nothing at all, save for a pair of sizeable blast doors at the far end of course, one set into each side wall.

Still, the terminal did have something strange about it: the gray-blue metal that composed it stood covered with plants. Roots, to be more specific, snaking their way along and about in a myriad of patterns, disappearing through holes in floor, walls, and ceiling as if the place had been tailored right around them.

Vern waited patiently for all who wished to come to do so, as there wouldn't be any getting to the Labtower once the portal had shut down again, the gateway the only means of entry at this time, and then stepped through as well, the generated vortex dissipating behind him.

"This way, if you please." he bid the group to follow him through the right-hand blast door, the thick slab rising into the ceiling to free their way as they approached. The corridor beyond bore the same appearance as the terminal, thick roots of what must have been some massive tree growing where they wished, yet never truly impinging on any space or blocking the way...

You know, I'm not quite sure whether I should actually explain to you why, or if I should just laugh. Ah, what the hell, I think I'll just laugh. And quit copying me.

Me likey.

"Bah, what's the point of being mature all the time?" Vern chuckled at the reactions of the others, "Just be glad he stuck to reprogramming the commbot. I would've already started shifting things."

"Also, no Godzilla for you." the Krayten told Solid, tapping the claws of his left foreleg upon the floor a few times, "No hands, remember? Besides, walking on two legs makes me feel more unstable than a sack of synthetic oscillocrystals..."

"Don't let the colors fool you." Acid attempted to assuage the concerns of poisoning from the environment as he headed toward the platform's closest terminator, "If something around here was toxic, I would've at least sneezed by now."

"He is correct." Sah'Teece emphasized, having placed his helmet back upon his head as well, bladerifle at the ready, eyes scrutinizing everything as he trailed the reptilian with alert senses, "There are no more toxins present in our world than yours. Indeed, there may well be less. Not-human, what are you looking for?"

"Acid, if you please." the Khelari retorted, turning back to the group for a moment, "And I don't know yet. Something's really...guys, seriously. Don't. Go. Anywhere. I apologize if I'm unknowingly undermining someone's authority right now, but something's really wrong here. In fact, if this place wasn't such an opportunity for us, I'd already say we should just turn...oh, tarnation."

Acid silently cursed as he approached the column that supported the towering pillar of flame, damning his carelessness. Hadn't he said he'd think things through from now on? What had happened to that? Gone out the airlock again, huh? Of course.

"Here." he told Sah'Teece as the Rikti joined him at the wall of the column, pointing a clawed finger upon an inscription, the reptilian inspecting the work of stone and metal with interest, "What's this here say?"

"May these beacons of light serve to guide ships to safe landing in the harsh storm we have wrought - now and for all time." the Rikti read the age-old linguistics, followed by inquiring, "Why?"

"Because that's where the trail starts." the Khelari answered as he turned his sights on the viaduct that connected platform and plateau, "Or ends. Not sure which yet. It's so faint it's nearly gone. The rain's washed away so much I can barely tell it's even there, let alone what it is."

Depending on the sensitivity of Toy's sensors, the robotic mastermind might have found himself foiled completely by the nearly nonexistent concentration. Alternatively, however, he may well have picked up on stray molecules of iron oxide or fractured carbohydrate chains. Nevertheless, neither stood out in a respectable sense in the moisture-laden air.

"Guess we're headed this way." Acid informed the others as he pursued the faint scent back to the bridge, his eyes wandering to the monolith on the other side as well as the structure at the end of the short road. An entryway could be clearly made out, "I'm willing to grant this place everything, so watch out for and be suspicious of absolutely anything you see. Even the ground. Don't need any stupid Indiana Jones stones."

As he and any who followed proceeded across the bridge, however, it seemed more and more likely the reptilian had fallen victim to some manner of paranoia. Stable and secure, traversing the overpass couldn't even be described as uneventful.

"Set in stone a greeting for travelers." Sah'Teece read aloud the inscription upon the monolith upon being asked for its meaning, "Acid...I do not believe there is anyone here. I may not possess the capabilities of a Psi-Scout, but I sense no one."

Then again, that didn't necessarily mean anything. Sah'Teece's mental 'range' was limited, and the compilations of formerly sculpted rubble on both slopes to the sides of the road may have offered many a hiding place. Still, it looked more and more like the Rikti would keep right, as traversing the distance to the entryway would be just as uneventful as crossing the bridge...

--------------------

Acid let out a curt chuckle as he raised his clawed hands into the air, closing his eyes for a moment in a gesture of refusing conflict.

"Not trying to call you stupid or anything," he replied, taking a closer look at Sheldon as he proceeded to explain, "but no offense, I'm severely doubting that. In fact, I'm getting the feeling you've never been on a reasonably built starship before. Before you say anything, allow me to inform you there's six of those."

Bidding Wallace come with him, the reptilian continued to elaborate as the two set off down the corridor past the teleport bay, "I'm afraid real starships and most fictional ones have extremely little in common. Generally, there is no main reactor, exterior-mounted shield generator, FTL drive that goes down on the third shot, and the bridge doesn't start exploding because the shield got hit. Real ships are a lot more complex - you've got production stations for both drive and 'working' power, insulator junctions, field generators and emitters, and just generally a million or more pieces of stuff to ensure the ship can survive the hostile environment of space. And believe you me, that can be very hostile a times."

"I mean, even your species' rockets have so many parts it's not even funny." the Khelari brought up for comparison as he led the inventor away from the periphery, "Now then, this ship is a semi-standard discus, half-click diameter, maybe a hundred meters long, bow below us. Fairly straightforward. Six reactionless thrusters roughly at the midway perimeter, each with its own fusion reactor. Three more provide working power for the non-drive systems. In standard fashion, all systems are controlled from the bridge, or if the situation warrants it, from the fire control center."

"Were I to take you to one of the drive stations," Acid finished bringing Wallace up to speed on the workings of a ship designed with common sense in mind, "you'd be savagely wasting your time, as you could control only one engine from there. Of course, if you just want to see how the thing works, don't let me stand in your way..."

--------------------

Likely much to Matt's surprise, the motorcycle never even came close to the ferry. Instead, it tracked the Ferrari right back to the docks where the meeting Malta had surveilled had taken place.

From there, if McGinty pursued the same on, the vehicle would lead its rider a few blocks over and down a smooth gradient upon the beach. It seemed Matt had struck the jackpot - the tire tracks in the sand were even still fresh enough to follow without any sort of detection enhancement.

Nevertheless, actually doing so presented a rather significant problem.

The tracks led right into the water...

"Okay." the spindly mechanoid gave a sinister chuckle as it stood, then began flapping its arms up and down in expectation of cutting Experiment's air off, "Oh wait, I've got an even better idea."

With that, the robotic construct suddenly contracted its 'torso', repositioning its arms and legs using multiple joints that had appeared quite stiff before. It didn’t take but a few seconds for the humanoid shape to become one reminiscent of a chicken (although it took some imagination due to the skeletal nature) with but a glowing blue lens for a head.

"Bok, bok, bok." M let out, obviously bemused, as the mechanoid mimicked the bird's behavior, Vern only letting out a perturbed sigh.

"Yes, we most certainly have a destination." the Krayten then answered Sheldon's inquiry, "Last I checked, one can't pick up a train just anywhere. And while I doubt anyone on this world has the ability to even detect a light gate in the first place, using shielded endpoints can't hurt, right?"

It was true. Although light gates were nigh-impossible to make out if one wasn't in visual range (or had some very specialized sensors; which no one here qualified under), the myriads of protections and deceptions incorporated into Dr. West's facility right here, not to mention its constantly moving and very covert nature, only warranted that the arrival point be hidden as well...

((Gotcha. ))

"Sure, we can do portal travel." Vern's shoulders gave the equivalent of a shrug, his wings reverberating with the gesture, "Not comfortable with getting torn apart, huh? And yes, I do believe we can very much stay 'under their radar'. We have been for a good long while."

"Or above." M added to his friend's answer with a chuckle, "Seriously, unless they're more paranoid than the Malta Group, they won't even know I'm there. Shall I be off then?"

"Alright." the Krayten answered, "But stick to low orbit for now. No sense in chancing anything."

"Of course." the spindly mechanoid spread its hands, but despite the conversation's direction stayed quite put where it was, "You know me."

"That's exactly why." Vern retorted with a smirk, turning to Dr. West again, "Any objections to me generating a light gate right here...?"

((Lk'Onik isn't there. Neither is a table. ))

"Guess that settles that." Acid returned with a polite nod, then pressed the ship into approach. A few vibrations came through upon contact with the atmosphere, the reptilian cutting their descent rate drastically in order to prevent the creation of a new fireball in the sky. Space-faring civilization or not, that would've been an attention-grabber like few others.

He then switched to aerobraking, letting the whims of conventional physics run their course as the ship bled velocity, soon embedded deeply within the gaseous portion of the Rikti homeworld's atmosphere.

Thick globs of clouds hung all about, meaning there wasn't much to see. Indeed, the upper atmosphere seemed turbulent and unstable, as if set in motion by some catastrophic event long past and still trying to rebalance itself. Visibility did not improve as Acid pressed the ship lower and lower, navigating by instruments alone. Indeed, the clouds only seemed to grow darker, telling ominously of the event.

Neither Cher'tak and Sah'Teece could not confirm what sort of event, however. These conditions had been present for much longer than a century. A modern Rikti's best guess reasoned to be a natural disaster more than half a millennium ago, but no one knew for sure. In fact, that had been one of the things the archeologists at the Forgotten Sanctuary had reported they might have found traces of. After all, the facility had been dated back to that time period.

And it showed.

The clouds didn't break until a very low altitude, but even before that, they stood for all to see - pair of towering flames in the mist, casting brilliant luminance into the dark, cloudy skies.

Lower and lower the reptilian took the vessel, until finally the clouds broke to a star-filled, if a bit hazy, night sky above, and a myriad of majestic mountains below and to the sides. Now the burning towers could be seen in all their blazing glory - standing at least a dozen meters tall, they blazed brightly from both terminators of a crescent-shaped landing platform that sat precariously over a massive chasm, dense mists hiding its floor. Already, all could see the platform a large example relative to the ship - it could've easily held five of them, perhaps more.

"Cool." Acid remarked as he eased closer, observing the parts of the Forgotten Sanctuary that could be seen from this angle. The place looked like a series of gargantuan cylinders carved from the solid rock of the steep cliffs that permeated its surroundings, and it was difficult to tell where a structure ended and the wall of a mountain or canyon began began, as bridges connected just about everything.

This also included the airdock: a cantilever, the landing platform had been attached to a narrow plateau between two slopes, some manner of road running from the foremost tower to the edge of the cliff, where it became a causeway that bridged the final distance to the platform. All in all, the skydock's beginnings hung maybe twenty meters from the wall, the bridge half as wide at its narrowest. In addition, the carried at its center a monolith of respectable size just beyond the junction point, which at one time might have been smooth as could be - weathering, however, had run its course, and presently the surface of the pillar resembled the rubble and ruin that covered the slopes to the road's sides.

Easing the Drop Ship to the edge of the airdock, it became clear the platform and its supports had been constructed not of carved stone, but of finely worked metal, artistically wrought to create patterns of natural, unimpeded flow. Additionally, the rythmic splashes of fine, slowly falling rain could now be seen, the platform's edge playing host to several slim trails of water. The ship's screen had compensated automatically, and so this was likely the first indication to its passengers of the weather outside.

It would not be the last.

Without a word, Acid performed all stop, the ship's anti-gravity field anchoring the vessel in a solid hover. With a nod to the Rikti, the Khelari relinquished his seat to proceed aft. However, Sah'Teece was already ahead of him, explaining the workings of the ship's entry and exit mechanism to the others. The process really was very simple: one only had to grab hold of a harness on the wall, and then the command crew could give the ship the order to teleport them out individually or as a group. Furthermore, he and the Warmaster had in their armor devices that could remotely operate this, having synchronized with the ship's systems during the flight.

"Then let's mambo." Acid declared, and as soon as everyone had declared themselves ready, they found themselves assembled on the landing platform and facing the road ahead, the Drop Ship's bow hovering behind the group with a low hum of energy.

Almost immediately, Sah'Teece practically tore the helmet off his head, taking in the air of his verily missed home with appreciation untold as he felt the miniscule drops of rain upon his face. It had been a long time.

True, a human might very well have found the local environment disturbing, but at this point the Rikti couldn't have cared less. He was home - and for these few precious moments, that was all that mattered.

Even Acid seemed appreciative of getting some fresh air again, though in his opinion things were still freezing around here. In such surroundings, he had to admit, clothes really were a very good idea. Once again, he grealy appreciated his jacket.

Still, he couldn't help but be drawn to the closest towering flame, the warmth of the fire to him like light to a moth. It didn't take him long to stop dead in his tracks, however, eyes scrutinizing the area as they swept about, his combi-rifle practically leaping into the reptilian's claws.

"Everyone stay close." he warned with a snarl, whatever he'd noticed clearly upsetting him a great deal, "Something smells rotten."

Indeed, if anyone's nose had the same sensitivity as the Khelari, they would realize he meant this quite literally. While the closest comparison would have been a bloodhound, it certainly wasn't impossible for someone else to pikc up on the telltale smell in the air.

The scent of death...

--------------------

The Lady Grey bid Archlich goodbye in the form of an icy nod, then extended her hand to accept a PDA from one of her Colonels as the undead sorcerer departed. Glancing upon it for a few moments, she remarked, "Very well, Sir Archlich. We but hope it does not become necessary to extend Our 'jurisdiction'."

"Keep a watch on him." she ordered as she handed back Archlich's Freedom Corps profile to the officer, who responded with a quick salute. If it was at all reasonable to keep an eye on the lich, they certainly would.

"I don't think you should be that distrustful of the guy." Acid commented with a gesture of dismissal, "I mean, he's..."

"A known, confirmed, and very dangerous villain, Sir Zero." the Lady Grey finished the reptilian's sentence for him. She already knew how he'd want to counter this, not giving him the chance by adding, "And not a member of Vanguard. Therefore, his motives are suspect. While he is correct that Our efforts are to be focused upon dealing with Rikti affairs, We have no qualms extending them to disruptions of the task at hand. Now, if you will excuse Us, We have a flight crew to gather."

Acid shrugged to Sheldon, letting out a brief sigh. He knew when it stood a bad idea to start an argument. The Lady Grey had dipensed order for her troops to engage Arachnos, Nemesis, Malta, and other villains unrelated to the Rikti happenings before, and there existed little doubt she'd do it again if deemed necessary - one of the reasons Vanguard carried such a shady reputation. They didn't show much regard for legal boundaries when it came to getting the job done.

"A dangerous game we play." he told Wallace ominously, then returned to the topic with a bemused smile that came out a little toothier than he might have liked, "Run it all yourself, hm? Got a degree in Warp Theory, do we now? Well, if you want, fine by me."

With that, he vanished once again, air collpasing into the vacuum he'd left with the characteristic notions of teleportation. A few seconds later, an energetic construct that resembled the portal of a Rikti Communications Officer to a tee extablished itself in the geometric middle of the ops center. Some of the mentioned Vanguard had already drifted this way, not hesitating to step into the teleport beam. If Sheldon followed them, he would find himself face-to-face with Acid once again, this time on board the discus ship, in a room that much resembled a transporter bay fom Star Trek. Of course, the comparison was rough at best, as the Rikti had a mind for efficiency, not what 'looked neat'.

"You guys go and occupy the main areas." Wallace observed the reptilian already handing several transparency foils to the Vaguard operatives, "Bridge, fire control, et cetera. The shields are down right now, and with our renegades still around, I'd feel much more at ease with these sections secured."

Pointing the way for the first few teams, the Khelari didn't take long to arrive at Sheldon once more, "So then, you wanted Engineering? Pardon if this sounds stupid, but what exactly did you imagine under that term...?"

--------------------

Unai Kemen cocked a quizzical eyebrow at Matt McGinty. He didn't remember any black Lamborghini around here - a Ferrari yes, but as far as he knew there hadn't been any other recognizeable sports cars in or out of the gate today.

In either case, however, the Security Chief had no idea where to start looking for one.

"Got me..." he shrugged, but nevertheless tried to help, "Maybe ask the ferry operators? That's the only way I know of to get a car on or off the island. Someone there's bound to remember something that fancy, right...?"

((Eh, it's been a slow weekend on the boards; thought I might as well see what's going on in here. That and the new robot nearly made mincemeat outta me, so I'm staying hell away from that lab for the time being. Gave me some time with zip to do.))

((I wouldn't bother. You should know by now that Diov will write himself out of any troublesome situation, even if it wouldn't work. ))

((Stuff got mashed together in post, that's why. Edited.))

Nemesis Army Headquarters
Location Classified

"Atteeeen-tion!" the Colonel's hand practically shot to his brassen helmet with the barked order, the troops present in perfect synchronization with the officer of the Nemesis Army as the Prussian Prince of Automatons once m\ore entered the command center.

And what a command center it was. Pipes of steel and copper ran along the walls and ceiling in all directions, carrying the vital steam that so perplexed modern humans of science. No one quite understood how such archaic technology could compete, and even outdo in many aspects, the cutting edge of present science.

An assembly of grates and plates composed the floor, allowing clear, if limited, view to the workings below, the steam tech of the toy maker turned madman clicking and hissing like the gears of a clock as it worked - worked so flawlessly as if this clock had perfectly jeweled movements.

"At ease, my Nemesis Army." their master's mechanical word caused the soldiers to assume a normal stance once more as Nemesis turned to the officer to utter a short, "Report."

The Colonel nodded, steeping to the large chart table in the center of the room. Indeed, the Nemesis Army's command center bore more resemblance to the bridge of a submarine than anything else. The officer reached for a miniature of a Rikti Drop Ship that sat on the chart representing the Jade Moon.

"Passive sensors left on the surface indicate one of the Rikti ships has departed the satellite," the Colonel explained calmly as he moved the model across the table and to the chart that represented the planet, "with initial course for sector one-one-five before tracking was lost. The purpose of this maneuver is unknown, but strategic analysis suggests that if the present course is kept, the enemy will attempt to establish a foothold somewhere in this area."

Nemesis considered his officer's finger for a little while, the digit sweeping out a respectably large area. After a few seconds, the Colonel inquired on orders to move out.

"Request denied." Nemesis gave calm answer, knowing well that unless he could muster enough force to crush the expedition's head in one fell swoop, he would only delay them for a short time, as well as have to sacrifice assets he could not presently afford to lose. Many overestimated Nemesis' strength - it was through his cunning that he'd gained so much, not through raw power.

And cunning would be needed now more than ever. He'd taken only the elite of his forces; just what he could get through the Rikti supply base's portals. That meant he had quality, but not necessarily quantity. Lord Nemesis would have to be very careful this time around - else he stood to lose more than ever before...

--------------------

Sinister Happenings
Unknown Location

The spark.

The electrode.

The flux.

The sound of the arc.

This was all the Engineer perceived, his breath labored, but steady behind the thick shield of nearly black glass. Slowly but surely, the Engineer brought his hands along by sense alone, carefully caressing the two pieces with the arc, fusing them together into a single part.

He didn't even notice the sound of heavy boots upon the concrete floor, utterly absorbed in nothing but his work. But as he stopped for a moment to measure and check once more, he perceived a presence behind him.

"G'job." he heard the voice to his rear chuckle, the heavy Texan accent only too revealing as to the observer's identity. It was the Commander, "How long d'ya think?"

"Not much longer, Sir." the Engineer retorted, taking a T-square to the weld, measuring what he wished, then following up with various other tools of assessment, "It's almost done. Then we'll give those metas what-for."

"Yeh." the Commander's smirk translated into his voice, as the Engineer restarted his arc, "Yer gonna give 'em what-fer alright...Delta Five..."

--------------------

R. F. S. COLOSSUS
T'vryr System - Galactic Northside
Status: Under Attack

Passages of cold metal lay flooded with shadow, only periodically interrupted by the weakly flickering amber aura of a few malfunctioning monitors.

Bunkered behind crates and wall panels, all manner of being raised a rifle, from insectoid to molluscian, many different eyes nervously locked ahead.

The command deck lay dark and barren, its systems utterly demolished. Sparks sputtered feebly from shattered screens and blast-covered consoles.

All manner of corpses lay slumped where they had fallen, forming a ghastly, yet silent scene. The view outside, however, was anything but quiet.

Massive deltoids lay in combat with titanic spheres of copper hue, beams of neon blue lancing all about, setting space itself ablaze as deltoid shields failed and hulls tore apart in flame.

Fighter craft darted to and fro, assaulting one another and the larger vessels alike. Alas, all they could hope to add now was a bit more time, to buy a few more precious moments.

In a darkened hangar, a gray-suited humanoid worked partially inside the open cockpit of a trimaran-like heavy fighter that harbored a bound and rag-wrapped figure.

Without warning, the far blast door froze and shattered with thunderous cacophony, taking the bulk of the hangar's defenders with it in a swarm of ice missiles.

Not wasting a moment, defenders returned fire, the humanoid sealing the cockpit as a hulking figure stepped through the gaping hole. The being grinned a grin most smug behind his helmet visor as the ship turned to space, engines ignited. The frigid hulk roared out in defiance, blasting a wave of frost at the vessel; but to no avail - the ship rocketed away, acceleration all-out...