Prologue
Sanctuary Moon
One thousand Years Ago
"Those who lay eyes on a Guardian shall not survive long enough to report it. Those are the orders we were given," Atrios said, answering Marteen's question. "Clear?"
"Crystal," Marteen answered. He studied the heads-up display and cringed. The enemy was gathering all around them for the final push. "We're not getting out of this, are we." It was a statement, not a question.
Despite his friend not being able to see him, Atrios shook his head. "No. But let's make them pay for each one of us they take down. Our purpose is to delay them long enough for Kragor and Cirandar to complete their work. Nothing else matters"
The pair, along with Neeva and Torin, piloted powerful reproductions of their primary battlesuits. While their suits did not have quite the firepower of the originals, not to mention the lack of Etherium alloy armor, the reproductions could still give the enemy lots of trouble. Gatling Arm and Blitzkrieg were deployed to cover the pyramid's only entrance. Hawk and Claw were off to the west, hoping to flank the enemy force and squeeze at least a portion of the enemy units between them.
The Horde's primary units were tough, but they weren't indestructible. Just dammed hard to kill. Horde Prime had pulled out all the stops on this op. He must have sent in every damn machine in the sector to stop the Guardians from safely tucking the real battlesuits away behind magical barriers for the future. If there was a future.
Explosions reverberated through the forest. Smoke filled the sky and flames backlit the trees off to the west in the general direction where Hawk and Claw were now engaged in battle. Atrios pursed his lips in agitation. Waiting for the enemy to come to him was never his strong suit. He wanted to be wherever the battle was, but Kragor's orders were specific. The primary purpose of all six Guardians was to get the battlesuits loaded with the seeds of individuality stored away for the future. A time Cirandar had had a premonition about where the seeds they planted today might just evolve in the weapons they had originally designed but had run out of time to allow to blossom and grow.
A massive detonation marked the demise of one battlesuit. Atrios flicked his gaze to a secondary indicator displaying the silhouettes of the other five suits. The one representing Claw flicked and faded away.
"Atrios-" Marteen said.
"I see it," he snapped more forcefully than he'd intended.
Claw and Torin were gone. Seconds later, the image of Hawk flickered and disappeared. However, there was no accompanying explosion. Atrios figured the enemy had gotten to her and had either damaged her enough to disable the self-detonation system or tore her apart before she could use it.
Either way, there were only four Guardians left.
A comm window opened on the left side of Atrios' main display. The grim visage of Kragor stared out at him. "What's your status?"
Atrios took a deep breath to steady his nerves before answering. "We have engaged the enemy. Claw and Hawk are down."
"We see it. How long until they reach your position?"
Atrios glanced at his sensor display. "Twenty minutes at the most. Our Val-kyrie allies are putting up a good fight, but they are only delaying the inevitable." He had a sudden thought. "Any chance of getting one of those battlestars up there to rain down fire and brimstone on the Horde?"
Kragor shook his head. "The fleet is gone. You know that. Horde Prime sent in several fleets to make sure we don't escape from this planet." He snorted. "As if that was our plan. Hold them off as long as you can."
"How long do you need?"
"Ten minutes. Fifteen at the most. After that, there is nothing the Horde can do to stop Cirandar's vision from coming true."
"I just hope our successors will appreciate the sacrifice."
A grim grin spread across his friend's lips. Kragor said, "Though we won't live to see the day, I'm confident that the experiment will work. And that they will discover worthy operators to carry on. One for all-"
"Until all are one," Atrios finished. The window closed, leaving him alone to try to draw some solace from what they were doing this day.
Unit Six Sixty-six watched the battle from atop the Horde command tank lumbering along just behind the skirmish line. Ten feet of powerful cybernetic hardware, the machine had amassed quite a library of skills and experience over the years of its existence. Many of its brethren had not been so lucky. Many had fallen in battle against the enemy alliance.
Uncounted numbers fell to the hated warrior women and the six so-called Guardians. Their battlesuits were powerful, but even they could do nothing more than stave off the inevitable. The day had finally come. The unit had no idea what they were doing, but they had to be stopped. Their suits had to be captured intact for the technology incorporated in them. Such tech would enhance Unit Six Sixty-Six and all the other units, making them more efficient killers.
Six Sixty-six stared down at the broken remains that had once been the one called Hawk. The suit had not been the original but a powerful reproduction. The pilot had destroyed many units, but they'd eventually overwhelmed her with sheer force of numbers. Units swarmed over the suit ripping it apart, disabling it before the pilot could use the self-immolation device. The broken body of the dead organic still lay inside the cockpit. Her blood seeped from rents in the armored shell, dripped into the grass.
The units had not been so fortunate in their engagement with Claw. Swarms of units attacked the Guardian trying to disable it before the pilot could blow himself up. Unfortunately, this one was not only a better fighter, but he had been quicker on the draw. Half a mile away to the northeast, a smoking crater a hundred yards across and nearly fifty in depth marked the demise of the Guardian and almost two-hundred units.
Two down.
The next pair defended the entrance to the massive pyramid where the real suits were being stored. They would not be so easy to take down, and Unit Six Sixty-six did not want that pyramid damaged. It wanted the tech inside those suits to upgrade the army. That limited the available options.
Undeterred, the legion of machines regrouped and pressed forward.
Kragor watched the operation entombing the six battlesuits behind magical barriers with mixed emotions. He and the others had had great success against the Horde over the past several months using these suits, but the experiment using their memory engrams to spark an artificial intelligence would take too long for their needs. Horde Prime was gaining an upper hand against their mutual enemy, so the Great War was on the verge of ending. However, Cirandar's visions hinted at a greater purpose for the six stolen battlesuits. So, with their Val-kyrie allies, Kragor and Cirandar hatched the dangerous plan to lock the suits away where no one could get at them. Safe behind impenetrable magical barriers, the AIs would be allowed time to evolve and develop using the memory engrams and, hopefully, become the weapons of Cirandar's vision.
He regarded the raven-haired beauty from across the chamber. Most people would be entranced by the sight of the six towering battlesuits, but Kragor had seen them so often that the novelty had long ago worn off. The striking woman assisting in erecting the magic barriers, however, is what intrigued him the most.
What does a beautiful, intelligent and sophisticated woman like that see in a guy like me? Kragor thought for the umpteenth time. Cirandar was a great one for logic and reason while he rushed in where even Angels feared to tread. Which meant that reality lay somewhere in between. Kragor thought, once again, that it had been a good idea to leave out personal stuff from their memories0, lest the information color the thinking of an evolving AI. Or that of the new operators in Cirandar's vision. All their knowledge and experience would be downloaded into the minds of the people the Ais would eventually choose as their operators, so it wouldn't do to clutter a person's mind with thoughts of feelings for another person from another time and place.
Kragor reflected on the demise of Neeva and Torin. Cirandar wouldn't show it, absorbed as she was in her work, but he knew their loss affected her just as much as it did him. They all knew they would not leave this planet alive. So long as the goal of safeguarding the battlesuits was achieved, their sacrifice would be a worthy one.
Finally, Cirandar and the Val-kyrie techs stepped away from the apparatus they had been assembling and calibrating. Cirandar did the honors, touching a control on the main panel. For an underwhelming moment, nothing happened. Then, without warning, a rippling energy barrier sprang up from the floor all along the sides of the rectangular platform the six battlesuits stood upon. Ripples in the curtain of energy distorted the view as the waves passed across the surface.
Boot heels clicking as she strode across the stones toward her love, an exhausted Cirandar declared, "It's done. There is nothing Horde Prime, or anyone, can do to stop the vision I saw from coming to pass." She ran a hand through the tangled mass of hair so black it had blue reflections in it.
"There's nothing more we can do here," the Val-kyrie tech advised. "Time to go. The teleport pads are one-time-use only." She turned to Cirandar. "The first use will send you to the other pyramid where the prototype suit is being interred. There is a long-range transport waiting for you." To Kragor, she said, "The second setting will send you to the site were our shuttle and your downgraded version of the Unnamed Suit is located."
Kragor nodded his thanks. He and Cirandar walked over to the platform and the few techs waiting to leave. "You have to go. She's waiting for you."
"I should stay," Cirandar said. "You'll need help."
"This was a one-way trip for all of us except you."
"I can change my mind," the woman persisted.
Kragor shook his head. "You don't break promises to a woman like her. She gave you the power to help form the magical shield. Now you have to fulfill your part."
Cirandar's face fell. Her heart was breaking all over again. Kragor warned her that their love was not meant to last. Only in the past few months had they acknowledged their feelings for one another. Now, they had to part. Forever. This wasn't how either of them wanted it. This wasn't how any lovers should have to part. Cirandar couldn't stop the tears welling up in her eyes. Kragor enfolded her in his arms, pressing her close.
"I promise we will meet again beyond the rim of this life," Kragor whispered. He meant it.
His lover lifted her head to stare deep into his eyes. "I- "
"Hush. Go before I change my mind. We can't leave until you do."
Cirandar resisted, but Kragor walked her over to the platform and forced her to step up on it. The Val-kyrie techs were anxious to get away before the enemy breached the pyramid but had refrained from pressing the two Guardians, allowing them their good-byes. Once in place, a tech activated the controls. Machinery powered up and a hum filled the air.
"I love you!" Cirandar blurted as the teleporter entered the final phase for transport.
"I love you, too," Kragor replied.
And then she was gone in a blaze of white light and sound. Transported to the other pyramid where her shuttle to safety lay.
The techs hurriedly reset the machine and activated the detonators for all the equipment in the chamber. Kragor pulled out a remote and pressed the red button on the end. A small pop issued form the machines used to erect the magical barrier. It wasn't an explosive that would destroy the machinery, but instead disperse a highly corrosive substance. The small explosion blew the corrosive all over the critical components, where it went to work dissolving them. In the span of several minutes, the equipment would be reduced to piles of useless scrap. The same thing would happen to the teleport platform the moment transport was complete to prevent anyone from following them.
Swirling energies surrounded the group. Kragor blinked and he found himself standing on an identical pad over a mile away from the pyramid. The arrival site was in a natural clearing in the dense forest. A troop shuttle squatted nearby, and the techs got busy loading salvageable equipment into it. Several more were performing final checks on the reproduction of the Unnamed Suit. As he hurried across the grassy clearing, he looked up as a compact starship sored through the air overhead, waggled its wings, elevated its nose, and blasted off for the stars.
The pressure that had built up around Kragor's heart eased a little seeing that Cirandar was getting safely away, making what he had to do a little easier. With practiced ease, Kragor clambered up into the operator's cockpit. The techs gave him a thumb's up sign and hustled toward the waiting transport.
Armored panels closed at the touch of a button. The interior lit up to full blinding intensity. Kragor spent a few moments adjusting the lighting and display screens to his liking, preferences from long hours of practice preparing for battle in the rearguard suits. Even though this was his last battle, Kragor did not break old habits. Going through the motions helped settle his nerves and focus his thoughts; he planned on going out in a way Horde Prime would never forget. That was the plan, anyway. Considering what was attacking the pyramid, well, Kragor would at least take out as many as possible. Hopefully, the one he sought would be on the field and he could take it out.
Unit Six Sixty-six. That unit had the most experience of any of the enemy machines. It was responsible for the deaths of more allies than Kragor could count. Rumor had it that some of the machines evolved as they gained experience in battle. If that was true, Kragor had to destroy that unit. Provided it had decided to join the party.
Only one way to find out.
The transport dusted off and blasted off for orbit. The waiting battlestar could only hang around so long before the Horde forces took an interest. It was maintaining a line of retreat from the system back toward an area of space the warrior women were carving out for themselves. Once the transport arrived in the landing bay, the warship would bug out.
All systems operational, Kragor blasted off into the air back in the direction of the pyramid. He dropped down on the flat roof. Having the high ground was tactically sound. The horde wasn't replying on air support. Whomever was commanding the operation seemed to be following standard Horde doctrine of simply throwing overwhelming force at the enemy until they were destroyed.
The situation was just as Kragor imagined. Two craters within a mile of the north-facing pyramid entrance marked the graves of Atrios and Marteen along with the copies of Gatling Arm and Blitzkrieg respectively. It was impossible to discern how many of the enemy were taken out when the suits detonated.
Sensors picked out the explosion site of Claw. Torin also went out the way he wanted. Neeva, however, had not been so lucky. A lump formed in Kragor's throat at seeing the destruction the enemy had done to Hawk. The saving grace would be if the secondary destruct systems, like those just used on the equipment inside the pyramid, were effective in melting all critical systems down into the useless junk. Granted, the systems in these suits were dumbed down versions of the actual ones, but there was still valuable tech inside the Horde would love to get their grubby hands on.
There was no more time for surveying the battlefield. The enemy had finally spotted him standing atop the pyramid. Kragor leapt away the moment the wheeled tanks unleashed a torrent of missiles in his direction. The range was too short for the warheads to get a solid lock on him, with his sudden movement further confusing the guidance systems. The result was the weapons all soaring harmlessly overhead. Rippling explosions away to the east marked their return to earth.
Kragor snapped off several blasts from the plasma rifle clutched in the right hand at units scrambling to draw a bead on him. He landed in a slight crouch, shifted targets to the three tanks roaring toward the pyramid as fast at their power plants could push them. Unlike the real suit, this one did not have replication tech to replace expendable ordinance. Thus, he had to pick his targets with care.
And then Kragor saw it, there on top of the lead tank. Ten feet of menacing death machine. It would take more than his three missiles to take out Unit Six Sixty-six, but they would be a start. Locking targets, panels snapped open in the nose of the bulky shield assembly mounted on the left arm and three small, powerful missiles punched out into the air, the speeding weapons crossing the distance in seconds. Each armored warhead punched through the frontal armor before detonating inside. All three tanks stopped dead in their tracks, black smoke billowing out the initial holes and those torn in the rest of the structure that barely contained the secondary explosions of anything volatile inside.
Kragor and the target unit leapt away to the north the instant the missiles took flight. The target disappeared into the mass of machines picking their way through the thick forest of trees and undergrowth. Another tank, specially designed for crashing through similar forests, plowed its way into the clearing from due north. A blast from the plasma rifle speared through it like a hunk of meat on a spit.
Kragor ignored the secondary detonation, eyes searching for the target. His hands operated the control sticks as if they had minds of their own. Enemy machines fell to the weapons mounted in the head and collar while the rifle ripped swaths in their ranks. The Guardian kept his eyes on the real target the entire time.
A side screen displayed the blast zone for the self-immolation device. If nothing else, Kragor intended to keep Unit Six Sixty-six within that zone when the time came.
That time came sooner than he expected.
The rifle's capacitor expired first. He threw the useless weapon aside. A panel opened in the right forearm where a mechanical linkage deposited a cylinder into the waiting hand, a blood-red blade igniting from the tip. Kragor swept the beam saber back and forth, cutting down any machine foolish enough to get in his way, as he made for the ravaged form a Hawk laying in the undergrowth. He intended to give Neeva a better funeral pyre than the enemy had.
As it just so happened, Unit Six Sixty-six had been moving in that direction. The thing must have realized that it was the target and was attempting to disengage from the battle. Kragor would have none of that. With one last power leap that expended the last of the energy for the flight system, Kragor landed near his fallen comrade and moved to straddle the inert form.
Something impacted the right arm, taking it off at the elbow. More ordinance rained down on the Guardian, causing a cascade of red to creep over the damage display like a virus. He didn't have much longer to act. And Unit Six Sixty-six was struggling to get out of the blast radius. On the central monitor, a machine carrying a portable missile launcher was lining up for a shot. Kragor instinctively know that the impact would kill him. If not the first, the second or third would surely finish him. It was now or never.
Kragor's right hand shot to a side console, plucking a cylinder out of its storage slot. A red button was on one end under his thumb, while a cable trailed from the other back into the bowels of the cockpit. It was the manual detonator for the self-destruct.
Having already made peace with himself the moment they had arrived on the sanctuary moon, Kragor wasted enough time only to cry, "One for all, until all are one!"
His thumb mashed the red button.
Blinding white light sprang from all the joints and crevices of the battlesuit. Shafts of radiant energy lanced across the battlefield and bathed the sky like massive spotlights, clearly visible even in the early afternoon sunshine. A sphere of energy blasted out a distance of nearly a hundred yards. All sound died away for a brief instant, as if the area had sudden been enveloped in a vacuum. Thunder slammed across the landscape trailed by the blast wave of detonation. Anything caught in the first fifty yards was instantly vaporized. Anything caught further out, if not vaporized, was so badly damaged as to be unsalvageable.
A heavy silence fell across the landscape in the wake of Kragor's spectacular death. Surviving machines stopped dad in their tracks, waiting for new orders. The enemy on the surface had either been defeated or had retreated. The battlestar in orbit had escaped. No pursuit had been authorized.
Clicking sounds came from the crater blasted into the ground. Some came from heated fragments of metal gradually cooling. However, in one part of the slope, the ticking sound was accompanied by the sounds of servo motors.
A black right hand snapped above the crater's edge and dug into the soil. Wisps of smoke and waves of heat radiated out of the crater and off the armor hide of the machine clawing its way back to the surface. A second clawed hand joined the first and soon the machine levered itself up and out of the pit meant to be its gravesite alongside the Guardian who had tried so hard to kill it.
Standing erect at the edge of the crater, Unit Six Sixty-six gazed triumphantly across the ravaged battlefield. It issued orders for the remaining units to return to the landing points and await extraction, except for five units it took with it into the pyramid. Unit Six Sixty-six could not leave without seeing for itself what the enemy had fought so hard to protect.
Even at a leisurely pace, the group arrived at the massive structure in short order. A few more minutes of striding brought them past the stone sentries and into the immense inner chamber. There stood the six Guardian battlesuits – the real ones – on a platform surrounded by an energy barrier. Unit Six Sixty-six noted the equipment at the far-right side of the platform, the device used to erect the barrier, and another mass of melted metal off to the far right. Probably a teleport pad, the unit surmised.
At the leader's direction, five machines opened fire with the blasters built into their chests, Unit Six Sixty-six's having been melted in the explosion that nearly claimed its existence. After several seconds of blasting, the leader ordered the others to cease fire. The leader recorded the information it required. The barrier was not merely energy, which its sensors could detect, but it also must have been infused with magical properties which its logical brain could not comprehend. It could comprehend that the barrier was self-sustaining, so nothing could penetrate it. No matter, The mission was accomplished. It was time to leave, for there were more battles ahead to be fought.
Unit Six Sixty-six left the six battlesuits to their eternal sleep behind a barrier nothing and no one could breach.
Planet Eternia
Cirandar had felt her love's passing just has her starship was about to jump to hyperspace. She had felt it as clearly as if she had been on the planet witnessing the act. Once safely on her way, Cirandar retreated to the aft cabin; throwing herself down on the bed, she buried her face in a pillow and wept. She cried not just for Kragor, but for all the Guardians who had been her friends. They had just begun to think of themselves as a family when news had come of the overwhelming attack being directed against them. They barely had enough time to institute the plan to safeguard the suits for the future she had seen in a vision. The only one where the galaxy had a fighting chance to free itself from the yoke of slavery under Horde Prime's ruthless empire. The plan had succeeded. Now, Cirandar had to uphold her promise. A promise made in exchange for the magical ability to help preserve the suits for the future operators who would revive them.
After a time, Cirandar finally levered herself up from the bed, stripped off her clothes and stepped into the refresher. She did not have a change of clothes, so Cirandar was forced to put the dirty outfit back on. It wouldn't be for long. Once she reached her destination, her outfit would change along with her identity.
Cirandar was nibbling half-heartedly at some food rations when the control console in the cockpit beeped. The starship was about to exit hyperspace. She sat down in the pilot's seat as the computer automatically made the transition to normal space. The computer had brought her out right on target. The planet Eternia lay directly ahead.
Switching to manual control, Cirandar guided the ship down into the atmosphere. The computer projected the course on the lower part of the window; it wasn't long before her final destination came into view. She swung around the structure standing on spindly legs atop a pillar of earth surrounded by a near bottomless moat. Cirandar make a gentle landing several yards from the ramp leading up to the closed entrance.
She powered down the ship and moved to the hatch. There was no point in delaying; the occupant of the structure would know she had arrived. Cirandar exited the craft and stood for a moment staring at the structure that was about to become her new home.
Castle Grayskull seemed to soak up the sunshine into its motley green exterior. It looked foreboding, and probably enhanced that feeling in anyone who wanted to penetrate its walls for nefarious reasons. Cirandar had no such designs, for she had already been in the castle many times. It held mysteries of a different sort for her.
As she walked up the stone ramp, she marveled again at how it looked more like the ridges resembling bones had been grown rather than carved. She passed under the arches, standing just back from the edge that dropped off into the abyss. A creaking noise issued from the castle as the jaw bridge lowered, slamming onto the edge of the bridge with a loud bang of stone on stone. Without hesitation, Cirandar strode across the bridge and through the glowing, pulsing blue nimbus in the mouth of the skull face.
A woman dressed in a white outfit waited on the other side, looking like some sort of bipedal bird. The costume usually varied from one guardian to next, but the basic design was always the same. This woman's face, however, showed the many years she had been alive guarding this place. She was known only as The Sorceress. The bearer of the mantle of guardianship of the castle set down by Queen Veena after the death of her husband, King Grayskull, who fell in battle against the demon Hordak ages before. This had once been his castle. Built by him and his followers, in fact.
"I have returned as promised," Cirandar said.
"I knew you would, child," the Sorceress replied, smiling. "There is not much time, and I find myself anxious to begin my journey."
Following the woman deeper into the castle, Cirandar asked, "How much time is left to you?"
The woman shrugged her shoulders, unconcerned. "Enough. A year? Two? Five? Eventually, my journey in this life will come to an end and I will pass beyond the veil and start a new one."
"But I thought a castle's guardian was immortal."
The Sorceress laughed, a pleasantly musical sound despite her advanced years. "Oh, my dear, no. Gifted with long life that can be renewed at the whim of the castle, yes, but immortal? No. Each outgoing guardian has a choice. Live out the remaining years of her life and pass beyond the veil to whatever awaits us, as I intend to, or linger on with the promise to keep a low profile and stay out of history's way." Seeing the look on her replacement's face, the Sorceress added, "Do not worry so. I will put my remaining time to good use. I intend to see some of the sights I have glimpsed through the magic mirror with my own eyes before night befalls me."
She directed Cirandar to the proper spot on the floor in which to stand. Once in place, the square block rose a full foot in the air before slowly dropping down into the Pool of Power, taking Cirandar with it. A few moments later, a burst of white light was followed by the screech of a bird. The source of the cry zoomed up and out of the hole in the floor. The block rose back into place as the bird circled.
The Sorceress gazed at it in admiration. "A falcon!" she exclaimed. The first of two. She told Cirandar how to transform and watched as she returned to human form dressed in a similar outfit, but with a falcon headdress instead of hers, which resembled a hawk.
The old Sorceress transformed her clothes into the peasant outfit she had once worn when she had come to the castle so long ago. "If you don't mind, I will relieve you of your starship."
The new Sorceress nodded. "I have no further use for it. But I have a few more questions, if you will spare the time."
"Of course. You want to know if what you and your friends sacrificed this day was worth the effort. In that, I can answer 'yes.' It was worth it. That task is finished," the old Sorceress answered. "Your task is now to watch events and safeguard the Sword of Power and Sword of Protection until the day when their power will be needed."
"Will…will I see that day?"
The woman shook her head. "Sadly, no. That day is a long way off, yet. Do not misuse your power. And do not try to discern the future, my dear, for it is always in motion. Difficult to see clearly. Be content to know that the seeds plants by you and your friends will bear fruit beyond anything you could have imagined even in the wildest of dreams. Your successors will carry on the fight. Be at peace with that knowledge."
The pair stood just inside the mouth of the skull. They gazed silently at the starship for long moments.
"Now, I must be off. There can only be one Sorceress of Castle Grayskull. Goodbye, my child. And good luck."
The new Sorceress watched silently until the old woman had crossed the bridge and entered the starship. At that point, she turned away to begin her new life, safely hidden from the Horde, its monster army of demon machines, and the ancient Alliance that was in its last death throes.
The old woman, who had once gone by the name of Loran – and would again – familiarized herself with the layout of the ship and the control consoles. She had never flown a starship in her life, but the diminished magical ability still available to her allowed her to activate the computer. It would do the heavy lifting while it taught Loran what she would need to know.
A red disembodied head appeared in the cockpit behind Loran. "You didn't tell her," the Spirit of Grayskull said.
"It was not for me to do," Loran replied. "Nor for you. Her story is far from over, and it may turn out better than I have foreseen."
"How can you be so sure?"
Loran smiled. "As I told her, the future is always in motion. There will always be a chance for a happier ending to her story than I have seen. Hopefully, my friend, you can guide her on the right path. Who knows, maybe some good will come of it. Now be gone. I have new worlds to see in my twilight years. Before night falls and dawn rises for me beyond the veil."
Spirit thanked her for her companionship and bade her good fortune in her journey. He faded from sight as the computer fired up the engines.
Minutes later, the ship lifted off and headed for the stars and the adventures they promised.
9