Dylan stepped to the nearest control console and pressed the shipwide address stud. "This is the Captain," he announced. "Secure docking stations and prepare for slipstream. Passengers please proceed with all possible speed to the hangar bay. Auxiliary Section Three offload passenger effects immediately."
Andromeda's corridors began to bustle with activity. Human crewmen dashed to their slipstream stations. Ship's androids moved rapidly toward the hangar bay towing antigrav platforms carrying huge piles of luggage, with protesting passengers hurrying behind. The Castilian ambassador waddled along in pursuit of his suitcases, sweating and complaining loudly with every step.
Beka watched the internal ship's cameras from her station at the helm. "That ambassador from Castilia is a real pain in the undercarriage, isn't he?" she asked the room, not really expecting an answer. "People like that always act like they're better than the rest of us, and yet they're supposed to be representing us. They're our employees! Where do they get off acting like that? Grrrr!"
Harper stood at his console and looked back at Beka. Normally he would have a wise comment to bring Beka down a notch or two, but seeing the fire in her eyes, he decided that discretion was the better part of valor and remembered his old Dad's sage advice - "Never miss a good chance to shut up." He turned back to his console and continued to study the information about the mechanical constructs.
Tyr also was studying the sparse information that was available. He would need to know everything about this enemy to be able to fight them effectively. The man and the woman did not look at all formidable. And Tyr had never met a mechanical spider that he couldn't smash with his foot. But he had to remind himself that these creatures had killed an entire Company of High Guard Lancers. The Lancers weren't Nietzcheans, but neither were they weaklings. These mechanical beings must have had immense strength and speed to overcome the Lancers. If these beings ever spread throughout the galaxy, they would be worse than the Magog and the Abyss combined.
Beka lifted her head from the internal camera display and spoke without looking at anyone on the bridge. "Passengers and cargo offloaded, shuttle away, hangar doors closing, all stations report readiness for slipstream." Her voice was terse and emotionless.
Everyone on the bridge turned to look at Beka. Dylan glanced at Trance and noticed she was staring at him, her eyes full of concern. Almost imperceptibly, she shook her head. We can do nothing for her at the moment. Trance had traded places through time with, well, with Trance, and now she was not the adorable cuddly little alien with a tail. She seemed to have matured in a way that observing a thousand years of pain and agony can mature a person. But she was still Trance, with all her special perceptions of emotions and nuances, and he trusted her judgment implicitly. He nodded back to her and spoke. "Very well, Beka, take us to slipstream, we're going to Arzawa III."
"Yes sir," responded Beka, initiating the slipstream event. Andromeda Ascendant fairly leaped forward into the slipstream tunnel
