The Mission

Crew Quarters  - Star of Mercy ...........................................................................       The narrow passage opens up into a small wardroom. The space is ingeniously outfitted, the furniture and surfaces configured to serve either under nominal local gravity conditions, or that provided by the freighter's own acceleration. Flanking the wardroom are a set of personal sleeping niches, with each empty bunk module containing a bed with built in cabinetry and storage lockers. Forward, a fresher unit is located portside, while to the starboard is a simple kitchenette. The room is softly illuminated, gentle light floating down from coves recessed into the dorsal and side wall framing. The deckplates are sturdy and and diamond gridded, providing a sturdy utilitarian finish to the space. ........................................................................... Sun Dec 21 21:46:58 3008 The lights are set at their dimmest level, simulating night and signifying the last watch of the day.

Aadzrian has proceeded right into the crew quarters, and is already taking copious notes on his PDA as he moves from bunk to bunk. The Timonae's lips move soundlessly, counting off details to himself in his native language as he prowls.

Quicksilver escorts Volidana into the crew quarters, following along in the Timonae's wake, "You and the family will probably want to stay on or close to the Streak, Volidana, over the next few days. There's no telling when we'll hit the crisis point and have to launch for Nocturn or else." He glances to the Timonae, "We can cram a few extra on the Everstar, but she's not going to handle many in any comfort, and we'll want to avoid cramming her so full that I can't use her as fighter cover. She's a fire control version of the Intruder, and with the Streak unshielded we may want to have cover available. Streak can outrun most things, but there's no way of knowing how this will go down."

Young Daniel is nowhere near as quiet as he runs searchinng for his sleeping father. "Quiet son, people need their rest while they can get it. " Volidana chides softly. Then to Quicksilver, "We won't go far," she agrees.

"Any chanse you can give me a figure? Balan-sing supplies and people in terms of avail-labble spase, how many can you support for... two weeks?" Aadzrian pauses, frowning absently to himself. "Fox wil be coming, can defended civy-lan ships. I am a crack shot on te turrets. I some-how do no t'inking mos of our pro-blems can be shooted down, un-fortunate."

Volidana nods. "Shooting a rift might actually make things worse." A smile crosses her face despite the gravity of the situation as the boy tickles his father's beard.

Quicksilver turns his full attention to Aadzrian, reaching up to lift his helm from his head now that they're aboard the vessel, tucking it under an arm as his whiskers fan and ears wiggle freed from its confining shape. "I confess I'm not entirely sure of the calculations involved for people aboard, but I can tell you she has a 60,000 unit cargo hold. How many people you can cram in depends on how tight you pack them. We may want to pick up a portable fresher unit or two, and perhaps a couple of spare air scrubbers just in case. She can handle a good bit of extra power drain....she's only using about a third of what her power plant generates."

"Wil pay for al sush t'ings for you if needed." Aadzrian exhales, shaking his head. "Calculation... is no my strong suit, yes? I would suggesting for now you start loading up cargo hold wit' supply. Fil it maybe half-full of food and water, and te rest of room for people. T'at should be enough, I am t'inking? We canno pos-sibble pack for a *long* trip, it jus' canno be done." The Timonae slides his PDA back into his pocket, long brown fingers reaching to rub at his temples.

Volidana nods as her husband sneezes and harrumphs himself awake, slowly moving over to his location. "Have we a destination in mind?" she asks Aadz.

Quicksilver bobs his snout, tail flickering as he crosses his arms, whiskers fanning the air. One ear rotates to the sneeze from Hezekiah, tracking the movements of Volidana as the other remains focused on the Timonae. "More water than food...and it may be best to load up with protein bars and the like....things that will last and provide nutrients while taking as little room as possible. People can survive without food longer than without water if we hit a pinch. Perhaps a small supply of hard candy, just so we have something to give a little taste when the protein becomes unbearable? Ideally, we should try to identify a doctor and nurses among the evacuees to help us set up a rationing plan. If we go with short rations from the start, it'll be uncomfortable but we should be able to survive a lot longer."

"Fox has full doctor on staff, Ace and I have com-bat medic training, t'at is handle." Aadzrian half-closes his eyes, his careful voice having the sound of thoughts forming only even as they're spoken. "Desty-nation is Nexus... and wat-ever on ot'er side. Should taking seeds, too. T'ings t'at can be use to grow more food if we end up on a planet. Pro-tein and hard candy also sound good. Hope-ful te journey wil be short, but we cannot knowing."

Volidana moves in to kiss her husband and wrap her one good arm about him. "If anyone knows about survival it would be the Fox crew," she affirms. "We have as good a chance as any."

Quicksilver bobs his snout as the Timonae offers his answers, whiskers twitching thoughtfully as his tail twists and thrashes, "That is good, then....I have little medical ability myself beyond applying bandages and ointments. It might be wise for you to ask the staff doctor to make up a list of important medical supplies, and the ratio we'll need them per hundred beings or so. Space sickness pills would probably be wise, and cleaning supplies for disinfecting. So many people in close quarters, the last thing you want is germs spreading. Seeds is an excellent idea. That gives me new ideas, in fact. We should see if we can acquire some basic construction equipment as well as gardening implements. The Everstar has only a ten thousand unit hold...not enough for many people, but we might be able to pack in some pre-fab shelter pieces?"

Hezekiah wraps his own one arm about his wife, the other hand ruffling his son's hair as he returns the Vollistan's kiss, warm and tender. He tucks his face into her neck, nuzzling and murmuring to her quietly of time apart and missing her.

"Fox has its own medbay. We wil pro-babble carry plenty of supplies..." Green eyes wander over to the affectionate couple, and Aadzrian's expression darkens a moment before they shift away. "If you saved your hold for food, water, construct-tion, ot'er sush bulk supplies, Fox wil carry t'ings like medy-cal and seeds whish are smaller, I am t'inking. How do t'at sound?"

Volidana keeps one ear on the conversation, though most of her atention is taken up by her family. "Hez would be a good one to suggest more natural remedies. We may well need some nontraditional approaches before this is over." The last of her words are lost as she sinks into the kiss.

Quicksilver bobs his snout to the Timonae's new thoughts, his tail curling in on itself and then flickering back out again, "A wise idea. We should probably assign a small percentage of space on each ship to carry a little of what the others are carrying, just in case. With these rifts, we can't entirely rely on every vessel getting through, though we shall certainly do our best." Whiskers flatten, then fan again. "In short, we need to take along everything we can think of for basic colonizing while focusing on the smallest items possible for most tasks. Assume we're going to end up dropping onto a barren world and having to start from scratch. Ships with holds too small for passengers can load spare supplies, and perhaps anything volatile or poisonous just to reduce the risk to the passengers?"

"Later I will have suggestions, yes," the Mystic observes in concurrence with his wife's thoughts, the verbal response his only contribution before he focuses on her sink into his kiss; they've been apart a long time. Eventually they'll come up for air. Maybe.

Aadzrian nods slightly. "T'at migh' be better use of Ever-star. Entirely ful of supplies, no people at al." He swipes his PDA out of his pockets again, adding a few more quick notes to whatever documentation he's keeping. "We canno pack *every-t'ing* we need to begin again... mus jus focus on t'ings most needed to live."

There's a burst of blue light in the middle of the crew quarters.

Daniel seems to be getting impatient with lack of his parents' attentioon and tries to nuzzle in momentarily. His attention is drawn to the blue light seconds before his parents and he runs towards it. Volidana, aura purple, bolts after.

The form of Morden'kamir materializes from within the burst of light as it fades to a dull blue glow. "Time is limited. Matters are worse than ever. We have determined that the damage inflicted by Caspar'kamir stretches far and wide through the space-time continuum - even hundreds of years into the future, possibly into the past. The wound his actions have inflicted on this universe is mortal." The Kamiroid shakes his head. "We will do all we can to slow the obliteration of your worlds, but we may need significant assistance."

Quicksilver bobs his snout in agreement with Aadzrian, "Yes, we'll have to keep it focused. We just need to try to consider all the categories. I'm thinking...." Well, he was thinking something, but the blue light is not conducive to his thinking. He whirls, whiskers flattening, and swings the plasma rifle off his back as his tail lashes. Granted, weapons do not have the greatest track record of being useful in events involving blue glows, but it's rather instinctive anyway. He steps to put his considerable bulk in the path of the small child, but lowers the weapon somewhat as the figure from the newsvids is identified. "We've been planning for evacuations....to get out who we can," he observes to the figure, whiskers fanning back out again and twitching curiously.

Aadzrian's eyes widen as he looks up, but he allows himself the luxury of only a few moments of shock before his jaw sets into readiness. "Righ'. Of course. Wat assis-tanse can we offering? Fox is willing to do any-t'ing, any-t'ing at al. Ot'ers are no doubt te same."

~Weren't we kissing the last time this happened?~ Hezekiah inquires of his wife's mind with a sense of wryness, before the rest of his attention is distracted by the running dash of his child. Psionic power swirls outwards, the Mystic stepping quickly in his child's wake as he attempts to reach out and halt Daniel's movements, eyes lighting with recognition as the former head of his race appears.

"It will not be enough to merely take your refugees through the multiverse nexus," Morden'kamir says. "All realities are jeopardized by this situation. The Kamir must increase their numbers so that we can successfully stave off destruction while also propelling you through space...and time. To somewhere safe."

Volidana nods, none of the earlier hostility in her tone. "We thank you for your help and stand ready to do what we can. while we cannot survive without the Kamir, the burden will not be ours to shoulder if we can be of use."

Quicksilver rotates one ear towards Aadzrian, lowering his weapon the rest of the way and slinging it onto his shoulder. He studies the figure of the Kamir, head tilting to one side as his whiskers flatten, then fan. "Am I to assume that the recently opened rift is something in the resemblance of a contrail from this Caspar that's spoken of? It seems headed the right direction. And you speak of increasing your numbers....does this mean you'll be recruiting beings to be changed into Kamir?"

Aadzrian closes his eyes, silent for a long moment as his dark brow furrows with deep lines. The Timonae doesn't look surprised so much as... resigned, in the manner of one receiving anticipated but belated bad news. "How many more Kamir? If you need volun-teers to under-going te change... we can finding t'em."

"Yes, we need volunteers," Morden'kamir replies. "Kamiroids, primarily, would be considered for ascension. However, we also know of other candidates outside the Kamiroid bloodline who might also serve in this capacity."

Volidana holds her son to her, planting a kiss on the top of his head. "I have been reluctant to acknowledge my heritage before. I hope you will not hold it against me now if I can help ensure my son becomes a man."

Quicksilver twitches his snout, glancing between his companions and the blue entity, a snort of breath escaping him before he inhales the various scents, tail thrashing with a measure of agitation. "And what plan do you have for your recruitment? Are we to spread the news to the galaxy, or will you be simply appearing to inquire of some you've already selected?"

Hezekiah frowns, a hand coming up to stroke his beard thoughtfully, looking to his wife at her question, and slipping an arm about her as he stands to see how the Kamiroid will respond to her words.

"I am ready," Aadzrian answers Morden'kamir softly. "If I am good enough. I am prepared to give every-t'ing." No agitation on his own face, lips curled into a smile that's faint and wistful.

"Spread the word," Morden'kamir says. "When you have gathered volunteers, you may bring them to Nocturn so that they may begin the process. It should be relatively safe to travel anywhere but in the direct vicinity of the interstellar rift. Training must begin within a week if we are to have any hope of saving your refugees and repairing the damage caused by Caspar'kamir."

"As everyone knows Demarians have no psionic potential, and I have a wife who would find a means of killing me, immortal incorporeal entity or no, I shall be quite satisfied to serve as messenger and transportation in this matter," the towering silver Demarian observes, one ear rotating back to the Mystic/Vollistan couple as the other remains focused on the Kamiroid.

Volidana merely nods. "I will be as ready as I can. I admit to being both sad and afraid, but I will give my all to the the task, nonetheless."

"Two t'ing, Morden, if I may." Aadzrian shakes his head, slightly. "How many mus' we have at miny-mum? How many at maxy-mum be-fore extras are no needed? Even some idea... would be help-ful in knowing when we can stop looking and go to Nocturn. And... wil te volun-teers have to spending al t'eir life forse to repair te damage? I... do not wanting to asked any-one to die wit'out t'em knowing wat t'ey are in for."

Quicksilver casts a glance back at Volidana, before shifting gaze to the Timonae, and adding question of his own, "It would also be helpful to have an idea how many refugees you think can be gotten out this way. The Streak can carry a lot of people...but does the number of refugees affect your ability to move us?"

"We do not know how many we need, but it is estimated that we could use about five thousand more Kamir to move your refugees through space and time," Morden'kamir replies. "Bring all that you can to Nocturn within a week. Be certain that they come with the understanding that they must remain behind. Those that survive the exertion of transitioning a single large refugee craft to a place of safety will spend the rest of their lives helping to neutralize Caspar'kamir and, if possible, repair the interstellar rift. I can offer little else right now. Much luck to you all." The image of Morden'kamir fades.

Volidana turns back toward Hezekiah, tears forming in her eyes. "Please do not think I do not love you."

Hezekiah turns his own eyes to Volidana, pulling her close in against him. ~I could never think that. Yet I am not sure of this course, beloved. How can our child be without us?~

"Child-ren need parents," Aadzrian agrees, abruptly turning away toward the exit. "Excuse me, I... I have mush to doing." Without another word, the Timonae moves for the forward hatch at a pace that's nearly flight.