- CHAPTER 17 -
- ISS Hopolite, Captain's Ready Room -
Ulysses stared out the room's lone window into the empty vastness of space beyond. Of the vast armada that had inhabited the system only minutes before, only the Hopolite remained. It was the lone sentinel left on duty till the real invasion force arrived. But Admiral Chriton had become fixated with wining glory for himself that he was blind to the tactical realties of the situation. The Empire had no clue as to what laid on the other side of the artificial Borg wormhole, only that it was particularly nasty and ate Borg Cubes for breakfast.
"Wendell to Captain Vanguard." The Hopolite's chief communications officer's voice filled the small room.
"Vanguard here." Ulysses said after he tapped his combadge.
"I have Starfleet Command on subspace com as ordered sir."
"Route it in here."
"Aye sir."
"What is so hellfire important Captain? Do you have any idea what time it is here?!" The heavyset flag officer said with an irritated tone. He looked like he had been woken from a sound sleep to answer the com. His white and gold uniform was slightly rumpled, as if it had been hastily thrown on. To tell the truth Ulysses hadn't taken into account what the hour would be at San Francisco, and mentally kicked himself for not doing so. Yet it couldn't be helped now and Command needed the information he possessed. Luckily at least the aides and junior officers that inhabited Starfleet Commands rabbit warren offices and departments were still on duty. Heck, the poor souls never seemed to sleep at all! Wendell must have convinced one of them that what Ulysses had to say was important enough to disturb their superior's beauty sleep.
"I do know what time it is Sir," he lied, "but the information I must pass on cannot wait. I apologize for waking you sir but someone in charge must be informed of this."
"Well spit it out then and well see just how vitally important this information is." The Admiral growled. His tone and body language showed that it had better be DAMNED important or there would be hell to pay. Ulysses swallowed his fear and explained just what Admiral Chriton had done. As Admiral listened to Ulysses, his face gradually went from being sour to horrified shock. He remained that way for a few seconds after Ulysses finished talking. Realizing that he was looking like a fool, the Admiral put up an aggressive front to cover up his jangled nerves.
"Alright Captain, the matter shall be dealt with rapidly!" As he spoke he reached to cut the communication. Speaking more to himself than to Ulysses, his last words were transmitted just before the signal cut out. "Damned senile old fool." Then the transmission was terminated and Ulysses was left to stare at the blank com screen and hope for the best.
- Flag Conference Room, ISS Athena, 2nd Fleet Flagship, Enroute to former Borg system A875 34B9 -
Fleet Admiral T'var's ice blue eyes looked over her revised orders again, as if that would change their message. Apparently that old fool Chriton had taken 24th Fleet in its entirety through the Borg portal instead of following his orders and waiting for 2nd Fleet to reinforce him. At least the Captain left as a rear guard had possessed enough intelligence to pass the word up the chain of command. It was because of that Captain's quick thinking that she now had new orders. Where 2nd Fleet had been cruising towards the rendezvous, it was now to proceed at maximum speed in an effort to catch up with 24th Fleet and she was to relieve Chriton of duty upon successful intercept.
- Main Bridge, ISS Athena -
The duty officer pushed the accept button on his terminal, and Admiral T'var's face appeared on it. Her chestnut hair was cut in typical Vulcan style, accenting her ears, and voice spoke with the experience and command garnered from years in Starfleet.
"New orders for the fleet Cmdr. They are to increase to flank speed and proceed on course for the original rendezvous coordinates." Despite the normal Vulcan neutral expression, there was a faint hint of a frown on the corners of her mouth.
"Acknowledged Admiral. The new orders shall be transmitted immediately."
Once the orders had been transmitted throughout the vast armada of ships that made up 2nd Fleet, the Quantum Slipstream tunnel that they had been leisurely cursing in began to accelerate faster and faster past the Imperial vessels.
- 24th Fleet, on the other side of the artificial wormhole -
The armada of vessels had taken some time to sort itself out after coming out of the wormhole. The end point was mildly unstable and had spat out the Imperial vessels across a quarter of the system. But that wasn't the strange part. What was really strange was the nature of the space they had been dumped into. Instead of the barren vastness of normal space light by the solar furnaces of stars and galaxies, this place was filled with a luminescent organic fluid. The entire area as far out as 24th Fleets sensors could reach was filled with the odd matter. There were normal planets and stars that long-range sensors detected, but other than that this place was entirely alien. The crews stared out windows and at video feeds from external cameras at the eerie, even spooky, green tinged space that enveloped the fleet. The Imperials were not generally a superstitious lot, but many of them were getting bad feelings about Chriton's crusade, now that they realized just how alien their destination was. But there was nothing to do about it now. The fleet powered up their impulse drives and laid in a course for the nearest planet. The fluid that permeated this place swirled off of their hulls and nacelle pylons, creating large vortices in the fleets wake.
Chriton himself was all smiles as he sat in his command chair. He was oblivious to the abrupt 180 degree turn in his underlings emotions, nor would he have cared in the slightest even if he wasn't oblivious. He was in his element now, stalking an enemy, assured of glory and honor. His cold blue eyes took on a maniacal gleam and his wrinkled hands gripped the padded arms of his chair in eager anticipation. Chriton's ever-present living trophy crouched beside him, the silver chain running from his neck to a clasp on the command chair. 24th Fleet's second in command approached him, worry etching lines on his face as he tried to hide a frown.
"Admiral, perhaps we should cloak the fleet?" Commodore Obed queried from the left of Chriton's seat.
"What need is there for that? Are we scared little pansies that have to sneak around in the shadows? HELL NO!!" His smile was replaced with stunning rapidity by a venomous glare and snarl. "The Terran Empire hides from no one, do you hear me? NO ONE! We shall crush this new enemy as easily as we crushed all the others! Don't bother me again with such trifling concerns!"
Obed could only bow and back away from the Admiral. Perhaps that Captain Vanguard was correct. but that was silly wasn't it? Why would Command leave an incompetent in command of a fleet? No, it must be that Admiral Chriton had access to information the rest of the command staff didn't. He was no madman, he was just a commander assured of an easy victory. Obed clamped down on the niggling doubt that rose inside him, pushing it out of the way and locking it up tight. Chriton knew what he was doing, anything else was either a fiction or a fault of his own. It was that dammed Captain Vanguard. If he hadn't planted those seeds of doubt in his mind, there wouldn't be any problem with following Chriton's orders. Obed returned to his duties, having convinced himself that Chriton knew what he was doing. Despite his self-assurances, he went into his work like a man fleeing from the devil.
-The Enemy had again come through the artificial portal. When they had first come, the Race had been unprepared, but that was no longer the case. Where there had been little need for warships before the Enemies had come the first time, but they were plentiful now. The species on the other side of that mysterious portal were now a known entity, and one that had proven unreasonably hostile. That hostility had earned them a speedy removal from the Race's space once the originally small battle fleet was assembled. After the portal to the mysterious space beyond had closed, the Race had hoped that it would never again have to fight for its home. But alas that was not to be. It was of no great consequence, for the race had learned much of the largely lost arts of fighting during the long break in contact with the hostile Enemies. These would fare even worse than the first Enemies had.
The first wing of the Fleet was assembled and it sped off to lie in wait in the evident target of the Enemy. It was a mere colony world, but this small group of Enemy vessels would die just like the ones that came before them. -
- ISS Hopolite, that same time -
P'tel sat in the central chair on the bridge. Although her studies in the teachings of Spock were progressing, she hadn't realized just how demanding they would be. They did fill a void in her that she had been barely aware of before she started, but the path he had laid down for her was considerably harder than anything else in her life had ever been. Of course she was changing the basic way in which she had lived her entire 105 years so there was bound to be some conflict as ingrained habits were forced out.
She was also surprised at how well she and Ulysses got along. He was most certainly not like most humans she had encountered in her long years in Starfleet. Ulysses was more understanding and forgiving than your average Terran, but she had seen that he could be pushed into violent action if it was the only course available. Just the same, he didn't enjoy the violence as far to many of his species seemed to.
Even now, after all that had transpired between them, he was still able to shield his thoughts from her. She found this both fascinating and irritating at the same time. P'tel was a fairly powerful telepath, yet she couldn't even dent his defenses. She wondered what the Starfleet recruiters had thought of his powerful psychic barriers. More than that, she wondered just how a being with El-Aurian DNA was able to even enter Starfleet. P'tel made a mental note to ask him about it during their next session.
- ISS Hopolite, Captain's Ready Room, that same time -
Ulysses was reading through the daily reports that seemed to come from nearly every officer and crewman on the Hopolite. He had thought that the paperwork that a second officer had to wade through had been bad enough, but this was several orders of magnitude worse. He took another sip of the hot apple cider in his mug as he keyed the page advance.
The mug slipped from his hand, dropping to smash on the edge of his desk spilling its still half full potion of cider out and onto the floor and desktop. But Ulysses was oblivious to this. If there was anyone else in the room they would have seen his face contort into a mask of sheer terror. Ulysses hands sprang to either side of his face. Inside his head, a vision of a completely alien being flooded the pathways of his brain. The image came unbidden and rampaged even through Ulysses formidable defenses like a deranged animal. The creature was charging forward, closing the distance to the viewer in Ulysses mind's eye. In seconds the creature was upon the viewer and its claws slashed across the field of vision. Then the vision faded to black and one sentence was heard in the background.
"The Weak Shall Perish!"
Ulysses jerked as if coming out of a violent nightmare. The only problem was this was no dream, of that he was certain. He leapt from his chair and bolted for the bridge doors.
"Red Alert! Get the shields up NOW!"
"Captain?" Lt. Cmdr. Percy Davenport said with a confused look on his face.
"Hurry damn it!"
P'tel cast a concerned glance at him, but if he was right there wasn't time to spare to explain things.
"Aye sir, shields up, going to red alert." Percy and his first deputy, Lt. Gabe Eton exchanged a look, then began to carryout the Captains orders. The mournful wail of the Red Alert klaxon began to cry out throughout the ship, and the flashing red panels and alert lights began their designed function.
"Helm, take us to full impulse!"
"Aye sir, going to full impulse now."
The fleet Aegean class destroyer leapt from its stationary position to motion in mere seconds. It was a good thing that it had, for a beam of energy lanced through the area that it had just vacated, passing less than a meter behind the extended secondary hull's endpoint..
"Sir, sensors are now detecting a vessel to port! She has fired at us but missed and is closing fast!" Eton cried
-Mere seconds away from its destruction, the Enemy vessel had brought its defensive systems fully online and had jumped foreword just enough so that what should have been a death stroke passed harmlessly behind the now fleeing vessel. It was an annoyance, but in the end it would only prolong the engagement. All scans of the new Enemy vessel indicated that is was significantly inferior to the massive cubic vessels that the first Enemy had used. The cruiser altered its flight path and increased power to full. Now that the Enemy was alerted to the Race's presence, there was no need to continue under stealth. Masking systems stopped their activity as power was redirected via the pilot's telepathic bond with his ship to defensive and offensive systems. What had been a slight distortion of the background starfield solidified into a craft unlike any ever encountered by the Terran Empire. It was black and yellow in color and was shaped like a winged spindle. -
"She's firing again! BRACE FOR IMPACT!"
"Helm, engage Slip Drive, any course, any head." Ulysses never finished his command. It was cut off as the ship bucked and then began a high-speed spin to port.
The alien craft had once again fired its beam weapon, and its power was revealed to deadly effect. It struck the extended aft end of the Hopolite's secondary hull, cutting it clean off nearly to the nacelle roots. The entire aft end of the ship was now a twisted, shattered ruin. But not only had the beam destroyed the aft secondary hull, it imparted significant momentum upon the surviving parts of the Hopolite. The sudden violent spin proved to much for the already overtaxed structural integrity field and the left nacelle pylon was torn off because of the unbearable stress. The Hopolite bled plasma from the distorted pylon, adding it to the growing mass of ejected debris that signified a dying starship. Centrifugal force from the flat spin was causing nearly everyone on the bridge to be bent nearly sideways in their. The few personnel unlucky enough to be standing and even a few who's tractor restraints hadn't been able to compensate quickly enough during the impact were thrown clear across the bridge to hit heavily against the far wall. Some cried out from their wedged positions against the wall, others said nothing and made no movement whatsoever. The g forces of the spin made it hard to breathe, let alone issue orders, and even if there was time to get to the escape pods, those same g forces would insure that you would never make it to them.
Lighting flickered and died, only to reactivate a split second later as backup power came online. On one of the crazy spins, a fleeting glimpse of their attacker was seen in the flickering, static filled main viewer. The front end of the spindle shaped craft was glowing ominously, and it was at that moment that Ulysses was sure he and the rest of the Hopolite's crew were dead.
- ISS Hopolite, Captain's Ready Room -
Ulysses stared out the room's lone window into the empty vastness of space beyond. Of the vast armada that had inhabited the system only minutes before, only the Hopolite remained. It was the lone sentinel left on duty till the real invasion force arrived. But Admiral Chriton had become fixated with wining glory for himself that he was blind to the tactical realties of the situation. The Empire had no clue as to what laid on the other side of the artificial Borg wormhole, only that it was particularly nasty and ate Borg Cubes for breakfast.
"Wendell to Captain Vanguard." The Hopolite's chief communications officer's voice filled the small room.
"Vanguard here." Ulysses said after he tapped his combadge.
"I have Starfleet Command on subspace com as ordered sir."
"Route it in here."
"Aye sir."
"What is so hellfire important Captain? Do you have any idea what time it is here?!" The heavyset flag officer said with an irritated tone. He looked like he had been woken from a sound sleep to answer the com. His white and gold uniform was slightly rumpled, as if it had been hastily thrown on. To tell the truth Ulysses hadn't taken into account what the hour would be at San Francisco, and mentally kicked himself for not doing so. Yet it couldn't be helped now and Command needed the information he possessed. Luckily at least the aides and junior officers that inhabited Starfleet Commands rabbit warren offices and departments were still on duty. Heck, the poor souls never seemed to sleep at all! Wendell must have convinced one of them that what Ulysses had to say was important enough to disturb their superior's beauty sleep.
"I do know what time it is Sir," he lied, "but the information I must pass on cannot wait. I apologize for waking you sir but someone in charge must be informed of this."
"Well spit it out then and well see just how vitally important this information is." The Admiral growled. His tone and body language showed that it had better be DAMNED important or there would be hell to pay. Ulysses swallowed his fear and explained just what Admiral Chriton had done. As Admiral listened to Ulysses, his face gradually went from being sour to horrified shock. He remained that way for a few seconds after Ulysses finished talking. Realizing that he was looking like a fool, the Admiral put up an aggressive front to cover up his jangled nerves.
"Alright Captain, the matter shall be dealt with rapidly!" As he spoke he reached to cut the communication. Speaking more to himself than to Ulysses, his last words were transmitted just before the signal cut out. "Damned senile old fool." Then the transmission was terminated and Ulysses was left to stare at the blank com screen and hope for the best.
- Flag Conference Room, ISS Athena, 2nd Fleet Flagship, Enroute to former Borg system A875 34B9 -
Fleet Admiral T'var's ice blue eyes looked over her revised orders again, as if that would change their message. Apparently that old fool Chriton had taken 24th Fleet in its entirety through the Borg portal instead of following his orders and waiting for 2nd Fleet to reinforce him. At least the Captain left as a rear guard had possessed enough intelligence to pass the word up the chain of command. It was because of that Captain's quick thinking that she now had new orders. Where 2nd Fleet had been cruising towards the rendezvous, it was now to proceed at maximum speed in an effort to catch up with 24th Fleet and she was to relieve Chriton of duty upon successful intercept.
- Main Bridge, ISS Athena -
The duty officer pushed the accept button on his terminal, and Admiral T'var's face appeared on it. Her chestnut hair was cut in typical Vulcan style, accenting her ears, and voice spoke with the experience and command garnered from years in Starfleet.
"New orders for the fleet Cmdr. They are to increase to flank speed and proceed on course for the original rendezvous coordinates." Despite the normal Vulcan neutral expression, there was a faint hint of a frown on the corners of her mouth.
"Acknowledged Admiral. The new orders shall be transmitted immediately."
Once the orders had been transmitted throughout the vast armada of ships that made up 2nd Fleet, the Quantum Slipstream tunnel that they had been leisurely cursing in began to accelerate faster and faster past the Imperial vessels.
- 24th Fleet, on the other side of the artificial wormhole -
The armada of vessels had taken some time to sort itself out after coming out of the wormhole. The end point was mildly unstable and had spat out the Imperial vessels across a quarter of the system. But that wasn't the strange part. What was really strange was the nature of the space they had been dumped into. Instead of the barren vastness of normal space light by the solar furnaces of stars and galaxies, this place was filled with a luminescent organic fluid. The entire area as far out as 24th Fleets sensors could reach was filled with the odd matter. There were normal planets and stars that long-range sensors detected, but other than that this place was entirely alien. The crews stared out windows and at video feeds from external cameras at the eerie, even spooky, green tinged space that enveloped the fleet. The Imperials were not generally a superstitious lot, but many of them were getting bad feelings about Chriton's crusade, now that they realized just how alien their destination was. But there was nothing to do about it now. The fleet powered up their impulse drives and laid in a course for the nearest planet. The fluid that permeated this place swirled off of their hulls and nacelle pylons, creating large vortices in the fleets wake.
Chriton himself was all smiles as he sat in his command chair. He was oblivious to the abrupt 180 degree turn in his underlings emotions, nor would he have cared in the slightest even if he wasn't oblivious. He was in his element now, stalking an enemy, assured of glory and honor. His cold blue eyes took on a maniacal gleam and his wrinkled hands gripped the padded arms of his chair in eager anticipation. Chriton's ever-present living trophy crouched beside him, the silver chain running from his neck to a clasp on the command chair. 24th Fleet's second in command approached him, worry etching lines on his face as he tried to hide a frown.
"Admiral, perhaps we should cloak the fleet?" Commodore Obed queried from the left of Chriton's seat.
"What need is there for that? Are we scared little pansies that have to sneak around in the shadows? HELL NO!!" His smile was replaced with stunning rapidity by a venomous glare and snarl. "The Terran Empire hides from no one, do you hear me? NO ONE! We shall crush this new enemy as easily as we crushed all the others! Don't bother me again with such trifling concerns!"
Obed could only bow and back away from the Admiral. Perhaps that Captain Vanguard was correct. but that was silly wasn't it? Why would Command leave an incompetent in command of a fleet? No, it must be that Admiral Chriton had access to information the rest of the command staff didn't. He was no madman, he was just a commander assured of an easy victory. Obed clamped down on the niggling doubt that rose inside him, pushing it out of the way and locking it up tight. Chriton knew what he was doing, anything else was either a fiction or a fault of his own. It was that dammed Captain Vanguard. If he hadn't planted those seeds of doubt in his mind, there wouldn't be any problem with following Chriton's orders. Obed returned to his duties, having convinced himself that Chriton knew what he was doing. Despite his self-assurances, he went into his work like a man fleeing from the devil.
-The Enemy had again come through the artificial portal. When they had first come, the Race had been unprepared, but that was no longer the case. Where there had been little need for warships before the Enemies had come the first time, but they were plentiful now. The species on the other side of that mysterious portal were now a known entity, and one that had proven unreasonably hostile. That hostility had earned them a speedy removal from the Race's space once the originally small battle fleet was assembled. After the portal to the mysterious space beyond had closed, the Race had hoped that it would never again have to fight for its home. But alas that was not to be. It was of no great consequence, for the race had learned much of the largely lost arts of fighting during the long break in contact with the hostile Enemies. These would fare even worse than the first Enemies had.
The first wing of the Fleet was assembled and it sped off to lie in wait in the evident target of the Enemy. It was a mere colony world, but this small group of Enemy vessels would die just like the ones that came before them. -
- ISS Hopolite, that same time -
P'tel sat in the central chair on the bridge. Although her studies in the teachings of Spock were progressing, she hadn't realized just how demanding they would be. They did fill a void in her that she had been barely aware of before she started, but the path he had laid down for her was considerably harder than anything else in her life had ever been. Of course she was changing the basic way in which she had lived her entire 105 years so there was bound to be some conflict as ingrained habits were forced out.
She was also surprised at how well she and Ulysses got along. He was most certainly not like most humans she had encountered in her long years in Starfleet. Ulysses was more understanding and forgiving than your average Terran, but she had seen that he could be pushed into violent action if it was the only course available. Just the same, he didn't enjoy the violence as far to many of his species seemed to.
Even now, after all that had transpired between them, he was still able to shield his thoughts from her. She found this both fascinating and irritating at the same time. P'tel was a fairly powerful telepath, yet she couldn't even dent his defenses. She wondered what the Starfleet recruiters had thought of his powerful psychic barriers. More than that, she wondered just how a being with El-Aurian DNA was able to even enter Starfleet. P'tel made a mental note to ask him about it during their next session.
- ISS Hopolite, Captain's Ready Room, that same time -
Ulysses was reading through the daily reports that seemed to come from nearly every officer and crewman on the Hopolite. He had thought that the paperwork that a second officer had to wade through had been bad enough, but this was several orders of magnitude worse. He took another sip of the hot apple cider in his mug as he keyed the page advance.
The mug slipped from his hand, dropping to smash on the edge of his desk spilling its still half full potion of cider out and onto the floor and desktop. But Ulysses was oblivious to this. If there was anyone else in the room they would have seen his face contort into a mask of sheer terror. Ulysses hands sprang to either side of his face. Inside his head, a vision of a completely alien being flooded the pathways of his brain. The image came unbidden and rampaged even through Ulysses formidable defenses like a deranged animal. The creature was charging forward, closing the distance to the viewer in Ulysses mind's eye. In seconds the creature was upon the viewer and its claws slashed across the field of vision. Then the vision faded to black and one sentence was heard in the background.
"The Weak Shall Perish!"
Ulysses jerked as if coming out of a violent nightmare. The only problem was this was no dream, of that he was certain. He leapt from his chair and bolted for the bridge doors.
"Red Alert! Get the shields up NOW!"
"Captain?" Lt. Cmdr. Percy Davenport said with a confused look on his face.
"Hurry damn it!"
P'tel cast a concerned glance at him, but if he was right there wasn't time to spare to explain things.
"Aye sir, shields up, going to red alert." Percy and his first deputy, Lt. Gabe Eton exchanged a look, then began to carryout the Captains orders. The mournful wail of the Red Alert klaxon began to cry out throughout the ship, and the flashing red panels and alert lights began their designed function.
"Helm, take us to full impulse!"
"Aye sir, going to full impulse now."
The fleet Aegean class destroyer leapt from its stationary position to motion in mere seconds. It was a good thing that it had, for a beam of energy lanced through the area that it had just vacated, passing less than a meter behind the extended secondary hull's endpoint..
"Sir, sensors are now detecting a vessel to port! She has fired at us but missed and is closing fast!" Eton cried
-Mere seconds away from its destruction, the Enemy vessel had brought its defensive systems fully online and had jumped foreword just enough so that what should have been a death stroke passed harmlessly behind the now fleeing vessel. It was an annoyance, but in the end it would only prolong the engagement. All scans of the new Enemy vessel indicated that is was significantly inferior to the massive cubic vessels that the first Enemy had used. The cruiser altered its flight path and increased power to full. Now that the Enemy was alerted to the Race's presence, there was no need to continue under stealth. Masking systems stopped their activity as power was redirected via the pilot's telepathic bond with his ship to defensive and offensive systems. What had been a slight distortion of the background starfield solidified into a craft unlike any ever encountered by the Terran Empire. It was black and yellow in color and was shaped like a winged spindle. -
"She's firing again! BRACE FOR IMPACT!"
"Helm, engage Slip Drive, any course, any head." Ulysses never finished his command. It was cut off as the ship bucked and then began a high-speed spin to port.
The alien craft had once again fired its beam weapon, and its power was revealed to deadly effect. It struck the extended aft end of the Hopolite's secondary hull, cutting it clean off nearly to the nacelle roots. The entire aft end of the ship was now a twisted, shattered ruin. But not only had the beam destroyed the aft secondary hull, it imparted significant momentum upon the surviving parts of the Hopolite. The sudden violent spin proved to much for the already overtaxed structural integrity field and the left nacelle pylon was torn off because of the unbearable stress. The Hopolite bled plasma from the distorted pylon, adding it to the growing mass of ejected debris that signified a dying starship. Centrifugal force from the flat spin was causing nearly everyone on the bridge to be bent nearly sideways in their. The few personnel unlucky enough to be standing and even a few who's tractor restraints hadn't been able to compensate quickly enough during the impact were thrown clear across the bridge to hit heavily against the far wall. Some cried out from their wedged positions against the wall, others said nothing and made no movement whatsoever. The g forces of the spin made it hard to breathe, let alone issue orders, and even if there was time to get to the escape pods, those same g forces would insure that you would never make it to them.
Lighting flickered and died, only to reactivate a split second later as backup power came online. On one of the crazy spins, a fleeting glimpse of their attacker was seen in the flickering, static filled main viewer. The front end of the spindle shaped craft was glowing ominously, and it was at that moment that Ulysses was sure he and the rest of the Hopolite's crew were dead.