Please begin scribing, Solon.
I have emerged in an empty barracks berth. From the porthole I can see the operations of the fleet against the forces of the rebel governors.
As Biblia's message indicated, the armada's strategy has a gaping flaw, in that it assumes the rebel forces will be unable to coordinate their attacks. A few well-placed telepathic suggestions have dealt with that shortcoming. All rebel forces are now aware of the chink in the flagship's armor and are presently converging upon it. I predict the admiral will begin countermaneuvers...
Now. The red alert has just gone off. I have perhaps three minutes for everyone to reach battle stations before things settle down. Solon, please image for me Biblia's location.
The ship banked a little sharply to starboard while I was in transit. I emerged into real space in a side corridor. There appears to have been some damage to the ship in a nearby section, as there is a strong wind. The bulkheads have sealed, and the wind stops.
Two guards run past ahead of me. I flatten myself against the wall, but one appears to have noticed the movement. He is coming toward me. I dare not risk discovery, so I step sideways without calculation.
The thalassa is cold. Many souls are being extinguished all around me, the wind of their passage driving the currents into a frenzy. Lamia is a whirlpool of death.
I feel a presence. I look over my shoulder. There is nothing there - nothing but the shapes one sometimes sees within the eddies, an optical illusion caused by the human mind’s inability to process the input of the eyes in non-euclidean reality. I ignore it and take my bearings. The ship is listing and drifting out of alignment. I recalculate where Biblia’s cell should be and step out of the streams.
"What took you so long?"
"My apologies. My navigator did not compensate for the ship’s movement."
"Never mind the excuses. Get me out of here! I heard buckling from the section bulkheads, there’s a 98.2% chance that this section is going to blow out within the next two minutes."
There is an explosion nearby, the sounds of shouting, and the shriek of distorting metal.
"Make that one minute and twelve seconds."
"As you say. Grab ahold."
"Wait. We have to rescue Cassandra first."
"Who?"
"Lys’s sister. Precog of sorts, very bad, but second-rank, and she wants to help us. Can you carry two with you?"
"Has she ever teleported before?"
"Unknown. Probably not."
"It will be difficult, but possible. Do you know where she is?"
"No. Is the fogey listening in?"
Solon, please scan Biblia for the identity of this person and image me her location.
We step into the thalassa. Biblia turns noticeably green as we do so, as the overload of sensory data instantly stimulates her appetite suppression reflexes. I take a bearing from Solon’s mental image and we step out as quickly as possible.
"Biblia! Did he hurt you?"
"You seem awfully considerate of someone who introduced herself to you via a dagger to the throat. Hurry. This is Hermetios, he’s getting us out of here."
"But what about-"
A sudden explosion throws us all across the room. There is a whistling sound and the door begins to buckle outward.
"Hull breach. Pardon me, ladies, but we must go. This will be slightly uncomfortable, Miss Cassandra. Please endeavor not to think about it."
"What are you-"
"No time to explain. Just... hold on to him and don't under any circumstances let go."
We step into the stream. It takes a moment for Cassandra to realize where we are, and I make the most of those few subjective seconds.
There is no time, only duration.
There is no time, only duration.
There is no time, only...
She realizes where we are. The currents of the thalassa suddenly change from quick-flowing water to the consistency of viscous treacle. I can feel her trying to scream, but sound does not travel here. I imagine she does not realize that, the blood pumping in her ears sounding like the crash of waves on this infinite sea. I assert my talent to try to override her panic, but it is too strong to affect greatly. Worse, rather than moving forward, something appears to be pulling us back.
I feel the uncanny presence again, and as I do, I feel Biblia’s breath catch. I settle my concentration on our swimming direction, then turn around.
There is a black shape in front of me. It is huge - the most colossal thing I have ever seen, with great wings like a moth but with infinitely recursive edges, and it reaches out toward us with long black feelers like the legs of a spider and I can feel my mind reacting instinctively with a combination of fear and - expectation? familiarity? and as I glance to either side I see my own shape and that of my passengers waver and distort and begin to darken, lengthen, become indistinct and I have to get away, I must, I must... Solon, wake up! WakE up! Do noT lEt it taKe you tOo! pLEaSe wAKe uP!
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