Soldiers of a Different Kind (Revised)

by SCM7

In the closing days of the Requiem Occupational Campaign, a SPARTAN-IV fireteam goes AWOL, heading after a supposed Forerunner technology cache. Deemed KIA by the UNSC Infinity's command crew in the aftermath of the Shield World's destruction, the UNSC moved on, unknowing of the partial success of the Fireteam's mission...

2. 2: Transition and Arrival

CHAPTER TWO: ARRIVAL

UNKNOWN LOCATION

DAMAGED FORERUNNER DREADNOUGHT DESIGNATE LOCHAGOS

UNKNOWN DATE – ASSUMED 20 FEBURARY 2558

There was no way to know how long they remained in slipspace. All any of the humans – Spartan Clarke included – could recall were flickers of consciousness, each one punctuated by the feeling of being compressed by a relentless force against an unyielding object, and a horrible sensation akin to undergoing violent internal combustion.

When they finally emerged into real-space, the transition permeated every particle of their bodies and minds. It was a relief compared to their previous state, though the immediate effects were no less traumatic.

It took more than an hour for SIV-311 to regain full mobility. The Lieutenant groggily lifted himself off the command chamber's floor – and blinked in total surprise.

The bridge had completely changed. With the exception of the now-inactive translocation pad that had brought them here, and what appeared to be two Forerunner interface pillars not three meters away from where he had been pinned to the floor, the room was bare of any other decorations… aside from the Marines and Troopers still scattered around the chamber.

Clarke blinked rapidly, shaking off the lethargy that still attempted to permeate every point of his being. Casting his gaze around to take in the chamber's complete layout, he noticed the bridge's ceiling now curved upwards like a dome, instead of its previously flat configuration.

The SPARTAN-IV attempted to bring up TEAMBIO to check on the condition of the unaugmented personnel in the room, but the sudden jittering of his HUD as it cycled through every single auxiliary program at a blur – repeatedly – was disconcerting enough to curtail his attempt.

Moving slowly, he stepped over to each and every soldier, checking their vitals directly. At least those displays still worked… though two of them were not beacons of positive news.

"Aeona. Hospitalman T. Bergon and Captain D. Donaldson are… are KIA. Add them to the list of the fallen." There was no other conclusion, given the Captain's state of full rigor and the absolute lack of a detectable pulse. Bergon was worse off, having been apparently slammed at high speed against one of the walls, a conclusion reached by the heavily-damaged condition of his skeleton and pulverized rib cage.

A thought sped through the Spartan's mind, and he immediately triggered TEAMCOM – ignoring the subsequent degradation of his HUD's overall status, or any sense of radio protocol in general.

"Spartan Jeremy Martinez, if you're still out there, respond immediate!"

No answer.

"Aeona, give me a full scan of the dreadnought, immediately!"

Still, no response from anything. SIV-311's HUD was beginning to stabilize, however – right up until it completely crashed, multiple error messages scrolling across the screen, all superimposed against a vision-reducing bright blue background.

Clarke roared in anger, detaching the clamps sealing his helmet in place, before wrenching it off and tossing it against the floor, from which it bounced twice before coming to a stop. He stood there, breathing heavily for a short period, before collapsing to his knees and forcefully running an armored gauntlet against his bald scalp.

It was an unprofessional display of anger, but it was the only action to come to mind at that time. The rest of the unaugmented UNSC personnel remained immobile, still unconscious, unconcerned with the outburst of rage.

It took less than a minute for Clarke to crawl back to his discarded piece of armor, sliding it back on and re-clamping it to the rest. He shut his eyes as the same blinding blue light attempted to sear his eyes out again, waiting for it to go away – or for his anger to subside, whichever came first. Another full minute later, he cracked open one eye, to see a sheer wall of code streaming past.

From what he could tell, the system was in full reboot stage. Whether this was due to his percussive abuse or due to the horrendous slipspace transit that they had been dragged through, he had no idea.

And if the worst-case scenario had come to pass, that it had been reverted back to factory settings…

"Aeona…?"

To remove the helmet would put the rebooting process on hold, if not restart it altogether. And if there was any chance that Aeona survived, the Spartan didn't want to do anything to further complicate or ruin that chance.

And so, to that end, he laid back to the ground, now cut off from the outside world, as the system continued to restore itself to full capacity.

UNKNOWN LOCATION

DAMAGED FORERUNNER DREADNOUGHT

UNKNOWN DATE – ASSUMED 20 FEBURARY 2558

SPARTAN-IV-322 levered himself from the floor of the hallway, using Jeb II as a crutch. Once upright, he reattached the coilcannon to his primary mag-holster, allowing his armor's micro-fusion reactor to begin recharging the weapon's own battery.

Next to his feet lay the scattered components of Seth. Uncle Seth had always had a few flaws, always spending time at various gambling stations on Meridian. He had passed away three years before the attack, a victim of a heavily-corroded liver – though one could also argue his frequent claims of bankruptcy paid a considerable part in his death as well.

In any case, the 15mm semi-automatic coil-rifle dubbed for his unlucky uncle didn't last particularly long, either. Something had obviously come loose somewhere in the assembly, and the weapon had damn near blown itself to pieces after misfiring. It could have been considerably worse, as the ammo box itself failed to cook off, but it was still a humbling experience.

Jeremy Martinez was isolated, in some unknown area of the ship his team leader had been determined not to fall into Covenant possession. A mindset Jeremy was completely unopposed to.

He was certain that the rest of Apex shared the same opinion, which had forced them to fire on the dreadnought after their previously set amount of time had elapsed. Better to have it destroyed than for it to burn away some unfortunate human colonies.

He wasn't prepared to have survived. The subsequent turbulence challenged his assumptions of survival, but still failed to end his existence – or even critically injure him.

Martinez began to move along the hallway. Either he'd find his way to his originally intended destination, or he'd run into a Covenant patrol. Or Prometheans. In preparation, he ignited Sarai and drew Trembley from the mag-holster on his right thigh.

VISR was a mess, the lines often wavering like a stream instead of remaining solid and definite. If a camouflaged Sangheili were to ambush him, he would have no premature warning. The loss of his motion tracker was also worrying.

What he wasn't expecting upon peeking past the next corner, however, was a pale-faced human woman staring back at him with deadened eyes, almost nose-to-nose with the Spartan. What came out of the gunsmith's throat was a combination of some obscure vulgarity mixed with a choked sound of alarm, and his knee-jerk response drove Sarai hilt-deep into the lady's face before any other thought could take hold.

The woman's image immediately fluctuated and dissolved, and a voice pinged over TEAMCOM. "You're rather nervous, eh? Your vitals are spiking considerably."

The only answer was heavy breathing from the Spartan. Seeing that figure within grappling range had completely blanked out his mind, purged it of everything except base-level terror and the urgent need to deliver the strongest strike he could muster before his evident death.

Too much. That one mission was too much.

It had broken his team leader. Before the mission, APEX LEAD would have eagerly handed over all the knowledge they had accumulated on the derelict Forerunner fleet to Captain Lasky, though would have still asked to be deployed on the recovery mission.

After the mission? SIV-311 had said it was "too dangerous" to inform Infinity's captain, that "if ONI finds out about this and gets control of those ships, we'll all suffer in the long term", and assorted statements of a similar nature.

"Ey, you still in there? I didn't startle you too bad, right?"

"Identify."

"Winona, UNSC Xenoarcheological intelligence. Or, at least, a distinct fraction of myself. I'd have to talk to her – me – I – I mean… myself, to inquire just how much of me is… oh, you're the sniper. You're the strong, silent ty-"

"Guide me to the bridge."

"Hard to do that, Jim. Can I call you Jim? Martinez sounds so formal, and there's already another Mar-"

"Navpoint. Then shush."

"There are no passageways leading to the bridge. There are very few passageways at all, in fact. The ship's internal structure has rearranged itself to maintain structural integrity for as lo-"

"How do I get there?"

"Through the translocation network, of cour- "

"Spin it up and place a navpoint. Then quiet."

"…Navpoint marked. I'll engage the portal once-"

"Quiet." And with no further words, SIV-322 began his trek back up the hallway in the direction of the marked point, ignoring his HUD's slowly-stabilizing glitch rate.

UNKNOWN LOCATION

DAMAGED FORERUNNER DREADNOUGHT DESIGNATE LOCHAGOS

UNKNOWN DATE – ASSUMED 20 FEBURARY 2558

Finally, after what felt like half-an-hour of a cross between meditation and being on the verge of a complete nervous breakdown, SIV-311's HUD finished its reboot cycle. Almost immediately, the Spartan lurched to his feet, running another medical scan on the rest of the UNSC soldiers in the room. All but two – the dead Marines from before – flashed green results. From what he was able to tell, they were about to start waking up. He dragged both corpses to the far side of the room, away from the rest of the Marines and Troopers. They did not need their first sight to be of their fallen comrades.

Glancing around the room again, he noticed the two control columns blinking yellow in his HUD. Why would they…

"Hellooooooooo?"

Clarke jumped, his hand reaching for his sidearm… only to close on nothing. Crap.

"Both of you are jumpy."

"Identify yourself. Are you the Librarian?"

"Aw, you can't recognize my voice?" With a surge of energy, a holographic figure coalesced in the center of the room, next to the interface columns. "Winona, UNSC Xenoarcheological intelligence."

"Win… wait…"

"Aeona spun a section of herself… or would that be myself... off right before we jumped into slipspace. Figured you might need her… I mean, my help. It's… tough, to be fair. I don't know whether to consider myself an individual or just a-"

"Hold up, what? Aeona did… wait, what?"

"- so what do you think? Am I Aeona or an individual unto myself?"

Clarke was temporarily speechless. "You… it's completely up to you what… wait, hold up, are you flying the ship right now?"

"A discussion for later, then? Okay." Aeona – Winona – pressed her knuckles together before continuing. "Well, yes… and no. Yes, I have control of most of the working systems. The Director of Vengeance is currently in a holding pattern… hold one."

In the space of a second, the scenery around the UNSC strike team changed. One moment the group of humans were surrounded by the mysteriously-illuminated dome of Forerunner material, and in the next… darkness, broken only by the glow of distant stars.

SIV-311's vitals immediately spiked as his head jerked around. "Wh-"

"It's just an alternative view, Spartan Clarke. A way for the Forerunners to experience the scenery outside their ship without ever leaving the protection given by its hull. If only we hadn't lost the secondary sensor array approximately nine-hundred and sixty-three seconds ago, you would have seen a lot more." The artificial intelligence's avatar stepped to stand next to APEX LEAD's right side, before sweeping her arm up and across the sky. Lines began to crisscross the view. "Believe it or not, this vessel has transitioned directly into the interior of another shield world. For now, we have received no communication from any local Forerunner intelligence, no instructions for docking or requests to explain our presence here."

The UNSC AI's comment on Forerunner intelligences stoked a thought in Clarke's brain, which quickly was vocalized. "What about the Knight? The one that prevented us from leaving?"

"About that Knight. Lochagos saved you, albeit likely inadvertently. Translocation from Director of Vengeance to any other ship would have been unsurvivable. A critical component of intraship translocation had been damaged in a firefight between Covenant and Promethean forces. Red Light could send you here, but returning to the Fortress would have likely resulted in insufficient reassembly on the other end. Without any actual data, I can only run simulations as to how-"

"Aeona, the Knight?"

"Lochagos is currently contained in a suppression field directly beneath the command deck. Whatever the Covenant did to sabotage this ship, it severed his connection to it. And the Librarian's command codes seem to outweigh its own, though I do not know how long they might last. Lochagos is very determined to have its ship back. Though I do not believe it will be in any way elated to find what has become of it."

"…Aeona?"

A holographic model of a Sojourner coalesced in front of the Spartan and the intelligence. "This is Director of Vengeance when you and Spartan Jeremy Martinez first arrived on it. And this is the Covenant sabotage."

A massive section of the ship immediately flared red, hull buckling in all directions around the disrupted section. Pieces flew across the room and out of sight, culminating in nearly a full third of the dreadnought's blade-like hull dropping off. Additional secondary explosions wracked the Director, racing up the blade until a sizeable number of decimeters – equivalent to a full kilometer and a half – past the midpoint of the hull. Structural failures ran through the remainder of the blade, some lines of which reached into the 'hilt' as well. A purple haze surrounded the model.

"Director of Vengeance initiates unmediated transition to slipstream space. Lochagos attempts to tune structural integrity, constraint, and torsion fields to maximum, in effort to save critical components. Remainder of blade keel is lost."

The remaining section of the blade peeled away rapidly as the ship began to tumble through the eleven-dimensional domain of alternate spacetime known as slipspace. Other components were violently removed from the hull, including large chunks of the prong structure protruding from the main section of the hull. "Auspex sensors lost. Director of Vengeance can no longer obtain information about locations outside of slipspace. Next transition will be effectively blind. Lochagos attempts to upload intelligence core to location designate Composer's Abyss. Upload fails. I take the opportunity from Lochagos' temporary abandonment of the ship's systems to assume command with the codes the Librarian used to direct the other vessels back on Requiem. Lochagos attempts to retake command, but is unable to. I lock all UNSC personnel in suspended animation fields, out of harm from Lochagos or other Promethean constructs. Estimated two solar standard days elapse before Lochagos was rendered temporarily inert."

As Winona spoke, more sections were torn from the ship's hull. The prong was violently reduced to a nine-hundred-meter stub. Forerunner protective barrier fields decreased in effectiveness, even as they receded further and further in towards the core modules.

"Engine modules came under threat of loss. Director of Vengeance forced to transition to standard spacetime or risk eventual complete hull failure." The haze peeled away from the model, fully revealing the sorry state of the once marvelous Sojourner. Even in realspace, the ship continued to shed parts, though at a vastly reduced rate than in slipspace. "Ship loses most forward momentum upon transition, as a safety measure in case of potential collision. Safety measure was necessary, collision with unknown material closely avoided. Remaining auspex array mostly non-functional, but immediate surroundings revealed."

The model immediately shrunk, rapidly decreasing in scale until it was merely the size of Clarke's little finger. A massive hemispherical cavern rose around it, with thirty-two miniscule cylindrical or oval lines radiating out from it at various heights, indicating some form of tunnel system extending from the dome in which the dreadnought was softly gliding inside. Varying-sized cliffs rose up around the rim of the cavern, one particular area near a tunnel gently pulsing yellow, indicating the presence of something that obviously had piqued the UNSC intelligence's interest. Far below, some unknown liquid substance formed a vast sea, interrupted only by a landmass in the direct center of the dome, and the cliffs surrounding the edges. Seven of the tunnels were located at sea level, potentially allowing avenues of water-based transit. The sheer scale of it made the Spartan's head begin to throb, and he waved his right hand between his helmet and the display, as if to ward off the oncoming migraine.

"So what do we do now? I'm going to assume we can't slip back to UNSC-controlled space-"

"You would assume correctly. The Director of Vengeance is no longer fit for any sort of slipspace transit. Even attempting to re-energize the interstellar slipspace core could result in the ship's destruction."

"…Okay, then we won't do that. What about-"

The Sojourner's model promptly took center focus once more as three more segments of the hull gave way, to tumble into the sea far below. "Reporting loss of port-side converging beam cannon battery. Ship structural integrity still failing. Automatedrepair protocols are not in operation right now, nor are they likely to be any time soon. As such, the ship is likely to fall apart within the next four hours."

The translocation pad behind the pair suddenly thrummed with energy. Clarke turned around, reaching for his right hip… only for his hand to close on empty air. Even as he checked all over his armor for weapons, finding none, the transporter cycled. A large circle shot up from the top of the pad before descending just as quickly, the only difference between before and after being the familiar armored figure now standing on the platform.

"Martinez! You're alright!" Another possible breach of decorum, but at least the gnawing anxiety that the other Spartan had been in one of the lost sections could now be safely discarded.

"Clarke. Status green." The armored figure nodded in the direction of the intelligence, while stepping off the pad and towards the duo. "She who she says she is?"

"I am UNSC AI Aeona, identification number AEN-411-8190-4902, former shipboard AI of Strident frigate UNSC Wrath of Stanforth, FFG-550, assigned to UNSC Infinity as Sub-vessel Five, destroyed in combat action with Covenant remnant armored cruisers on 15 February 2558, recovered by Fireteam Apex on 17 February 2558, and upgraded with UNSC xenoarcheological programs on 18 February 2558 by Infinity Science at the request of Doctor Norman Hosanna. Is that enough proof for you, Jeremy Martinez, SPARTAN-IV-322, fourth member of Fireteam Apex, 124998-4397-"

"Aeona," Clarke interrupted the intelligence's reciting of his teammate's service number, before motioning towards the holographic image of Director of Vengeance. "If we can't make it back to the UEG, and this ship's structural life expectancy can be measured in hours, what are we supposed to do? Can we touch down on that island down there?"

"That option has been considered and selected as the optimal course of action." Aeona pressed her knucles together again, before she pivoted towards the projection of the Sojourner, waving a hand over the paltry remainder of the dreadnought's superstructure. The vessel immediately minimized once more, with the center of the room now being taken up by a holographic image of the landmass in question.

"Right now, we are in a camouflaged extended holding pattern above a partially industrialized island. Scans acquired from the secondary short-range auspex array, with what limited functionality it has, shows signs of the island-city having incurred significant damage due to an immense cataclysm, likely of the seismic variety. Further sweeps revealed a significant infestation of some form of local fauna. It is unlikely that these creatures are the original constructors and inhabitants of the city… and it is possible that they are not native to the island at all, given their hunting habits."

Clarke cleared his throat. "Mind showing us what they look like, so we know what to shoot?"

"Of course," spoke the UNSC AI as she extended her left arm to the side. Another holographic form coalesced. Clarke immediately took a step back, reaching for his still non-existent sidearm. Beside him, Martinez activated Sarai, the crimson energy machete extending merely a quarter of its normal combat length.

"That is a big bug." A grunt from APEX FOUR signaled his teammate agreement with his assessment, the duo staring at the approximately four-foot tall, eight-feet long, armored quadruped slowly swiveling around on the spot. "And it has quite a lot of… is that a damn buzzsaw in its mouth?"

"While I was unable to gather more than thirty-five solar standard minutes of observation of the fauna on this new world before that particular subfunction of the auspex array ceased operation, I can conclude that this species are indeed deserving of the classification of hyper-carnivores. In that same span of time, four other species of fauna below ceased all biometric readings, with the exception of two specimens of some form of rodent. Both specimens displayed significant changes to their genetic structure before they too expired. One of them suffered a toxic autoimmune response, while the other died due to plummeting from a considerable height."

The holographic image of the bug froze, before zooming in close to the top of its abdomen. "Another interesting facet picked up by the auspex was some form of built-in energy weapon. I have observed ten different effects of the energy bolts launched from these weapons, and only six of them are immediately survivable. Treat these with the same level of danger as the antimatter munitions from a Z-390 high-explosive – apologies, the Forerunner weapon designated by UNSC service personnel as an Incineration Cannon."

The view of the bug expanded again, now highlighting its entire carapace. APEX FOUR deactivated Sarai, placing the now-safe hilt back onto the mag-holster on his left thigh. "From simulations, I have determined that both standard-issue UNSC 7.62x51mm and 9.5x40mm will fail to penetrate the armored carapace of this particular predator species. Anything lower than 12.7x40mm will also fail to penetrate. I must also state that while their undersides might be partially softer than the carapace stretching over the top, front, and side profile of their bodies, it is a firing position to be avoided unless you manage to upend the specimen from a safe distance. Remain aware that 7.62x51mm will still not fully penetrate their underside. Their eyes and leg joints, however, are not protected to the same degree."

"Our MA5s and M739s may as well be shooting snowballs. That alone accounts for over half of our current arsenal – hey, wait. Aeona, where did our weapons go?"

"Your weapons are currently stacked up on board Pelican Golf-33. It was the only way I could guarantee Lochagos would not terminate you until the opportunity to assume control of the ship's systems presented itself. Spartan Jeremy Martinez was not on the bridge, and thus did not pose any conceivable threat." Aeona sighed. "And we are on a Forerunner dreadnought. Even in its current state, it remains more than capable of producing and distributing infantry-scale weapons to make up for our overall lack of meaningful firepower. Or constructing Sentinels to take and hold land."

More chunks of material separated from the holo-image of the dreadnought, which itself immediately took center stage once more. The red lines throughout its hull began to pulse more vigorously. "Oh. That is not acceptable. Core areas are now being threatened with premature separation." The image of the bug blipped out of existence, and the dreadnought was moved aside – though not minimized as before - to show the island-city again. "I have designated and marked our landing site, as well as six other base locations within the city. I am accounting for pre-existing damage to the industrialized sectors below, as well as the network of caverns beneath the surface of the island, as factors for base locations. With your approval, Spartan Mattias Clarke, SIV-311, I will lock in our approach vector and initiate plotted modular dispersal plans."

Various sections of the dreadnought's remaining sections glowed an assortment of shades of green, though the structural failure lines were uncomfortably close to penetrating into those zones as well.

"AEN-411-8190-4902, as the acting highest-ranking UNSC officer in the local vicinity, I ask that you initiate approach vector to foreign landmass and prepare to enact… whatever procedure you have planned for us to land safe and secure," Clarke stated, attempting to keep his voice steady, even with his eyes continuously darting towards the still-extending spiderweb of fractures, especially the pair of pulsing blood-red fingers that seemed to be deliberately reaching for the engineering block.

"Course locked in. Raising protective constraint fields over all onboard biologicals and related equipment. Beginning approach."

The ship's holo-image promptly reduced in scale, as did that of the island. Both displays melded together, with the remaining hull of Director of Vengeance rapidly approaching the airspace above the curved tip of one of the island's peninsulas. "Once module separation commences, we will no longer be cloaked. Our arrival will not be subtle. The Marines and Troopers will likely awaken shortly after touchdown. Be ready."

Neither of the Spartans could respond, even if they had wanted to. The ship began to noticeably vibrate as the cracks spread around the green-shaded modules, even piercing in between them at places. "Slipspace core plotting transition in thirty seconds, as per asset denial articles. Securing Lochagos intelligence core. Modular dispersion imminent. Prepare for separation."

UNKNOWN LOCATION

FORTY-TWO KILOMETERS ABOVE SURFACE OF UNIDENTIFIED LANDMASS

One moment, the sky was empty, broken only by the faint glimmer of artificial starlets in the monumental cavern's roof. In the next, a minute section of the starlets above was obscured by the passage of the Sojourner's remaining bulk as it hurtled towards its final destination. Without any further warning, three significantly-sized sections of the ship tore free of the hull. One descended straight down, blue light coursing from beneath it. If one had the necessary observation equipment, one would notice it slowing down incrementally, turning what would have been a merciless hammer-blow into a comparatively comfortable landing. Only two buildings immediately neighboring the landing zone underwent complete collapse when the chunk of Forerunner adamantine hit the ground. The shockwaves radiating from the point of collision resulted in an appreciable maximum of six additional structure losses within an approximate radius of eight hundred meters, and the cave-in of two tunnels beneath the landing point.

The second and third modules ejected from the main body of the dreadnought in a more diagonal direction. The same blue-fire jets of energy kept them traveling along the same vectors, while still rapidly descending towards yet another empty space down below. Unlike the previous module's touchdown, however, the second and third components' landings were immediately followed by several large gouts of flame and geysers of unknown molten material. The impact had evidently ruptured nearly three square kilometers of underground piping in their designated touchdown zones. Flames from the destroyed pipes began to lick at the webs covering nearby buildings, and within a sparse two minutes, the repurposed structures were well ensconced within a small firestorm.

One second before the vestigial remains of the Sojourner was about to clear the massive tower in the center of the city, it shattered into a quintet of components. The largest section continued to hurtle forward, with no apparent intention of descending in altitude. Two of them shifted to starboard, aiming for landing zones to the 'northeast'. The final two angled to port, eventually to land within six-point-three kilometers of each other.

The first northeast module seemingly missed its landing zone, plowing into the ocean and immediately becoming obscured from view by a massive cloud of steam. The second module in that group found more success, almost gliding in to its touchdown point less than a hundred meters away from a heavily-damaged circular structure at the base of a curling peninsula leading to the north-most point of the island-city.

As the sorry remnant of a once fearsome ship-of-the-line passed over the island-city below, it scattered a trail of adamantine hull plates and other detritus in its wake. Covenant weapons, vehicles, and soldiers – some of which were still alive - spilled out, plummeting to the surface of the landmass. Five Phantoms and twenty-nine Banshees tumbled from the discarded remains of what might have once been the Forerunner equivalent to a hangar deck. Half of their number even managed to engage their engines before they collided with the ground. Additional pieces of Forerunner material flew from the ragged hull in arcs, descending to the island-city below on trajectories far exceeding that of those being scattered in the Sojourner's wake.

The pitiful stump of adamantine that was Director of Vengeance's main engineering section continue to travel the length of the city, directly down the middle, before blazing back out to sea. Once it had reached a predetermined safe distance from the landmass – nearly three-quarters of the way to the barrier ahead - the former dreadnought's FTL drive reengaged. A purplish-maroon rift spun into existence as the scarred device crudely punched a hole into the alternate subdomain. The rupture reached out for the remnant, dragging the final vestige of the once fearsome warship back into eleven-dimensional space, and then winked out as local spacetime stabilized itself once more.