Mixie stops tapping, she can hear something. Something that sounds like digging. The distant Morse code has stopped and Mixie, trying to judge roughly where the sound is coming from, starts to scrabble at the collapsed section from her side, pulling at the heavy cabling as best she can. As she works, the sounds get louder until there is a sudden change in atmosphere, a rush of bright light, a cloud of dust from the other side. She crouches down and, without hesitating, clambers out through the rubble to the other side.
She straightens up and looks around her, expecting to see construction workers and the StarVale hub. Instead she finds she is standing on a small pile of rubble in the middle of what can only be described as an enormous bubble.
All around, the walls of the bubble shimmer and shift, a kaleidoscope of opaque, glassy film, impossible to see beyond. Inside the bubble, not far from where Mixie is perched, is a platform with a couple of people standing in front an array of machinery. The word 'people' is the most politically correct word Mixie can summon up in her mind, just in case they are mind readers because they are nothing like anything she has ever seen before and, in Starfleet, she has seen many, many different peoples.
For a start each one has what looks like a line of holes running down each side of their faces from their eyes, perhaps spiracles, circular gills or even ears. Their skin is greenish and mottled, patterned, with little lightning flashes running through it. They are hairless, an almost intolerable idea for a Volelian, save for a pair of fan-like fins running behind the sets of holes and their mouths reveal fang like teeth. One of the pair has a very impressive set of moustache-like appendages, ending in wiggling anemone-style tendrils along the jawline. They are, at least, bipedal but also have arms from which large fin-like fans, stretch and concertina as they move, almost like wings.
They are staring at Mixie as much as Mixie is staring at them. Not sure where or how to start, Mixie remembers she has a bit of a girder still in her hands and on a bit of rubble nearby, she taps out the rhythm she had heard earlier; three taps and a space followed by three more taps, hoping it was produced by them.
From all around, as she taps, the air begins to feel heavier, like the air before a storm. A she taps, she can see the little lightning flashes running over their skin speed up and dance, forming patterns. Mixie begins to feel, first the hairs on the nape and then all her fur, stand on end. Static electricity! The thought occurs to her at the same moment she stops tapping, are they about to zap her with a bolt of electricity? The atmosphere is so highly charged, it is beginning to hurt, sharp prickles running up her arms and Mixie, feeling very much at a disadvantage decided tactically the best thing to do is retreat, so she dives back through the hole into the collapsed bulkhead, pulling rubble across the entrance as fast as she can.