The whole ship was shuddering with the steady rhythmic 'thrum' through the entire ship's frame. In the personnel quarters it was a light shivering but down at the jumpcore it was a screaming jittering shaking howling thing bad enough that even cybereyes vibrated, making anyone who stood there trying to blink away the blurriness from their vision.

The jumpcore was cracked down the side, leaking purple, blue, and whitish energy from the crack that swirled, streamed toward the back of the drivecore engineering bay, and vanished into wispy invisibility. Sparks jumped from damaged heavy cables that were plugged into the jumpcore, cables that led from the core to the drives. One cable was leaking sparks even though the engine was dead.

The computer displays were almost all down, whole banks of molycircs carbonized and blackened. Deckplates were warped and scorched, in some place the metal had gone molten and slagged, hardening in ripples.

"How bad?" Friend Terry asked one of the Mantids. Nemta wasn't sure which one it was. Holograms flashed between the Mantid's antenna and the wristband Nemta was wearing translated.

--bad bad cant fix when on turn off splat-- the Mantid said.

"So we'll drop out of jumpspace if you shut it off. Not a crash translation?" Nemta asked.

The other mantid pointed and holographic icons flashed.

--crash translator there all poofy crunchy-- the mantid's icons translated too.

"How far to Telkan?" Friend Terry asked.

"Day, maybe two depending on how this effected our speed," Nemta answered. He looked at the mantids. "What did we hit?"

--jumpspace bulge-- both stated.

"What caused it?" Nemta said, laying his ears back in resignation.

--not know other big ship maybe-- one said. --jumpspace bubble another ship somehow maybe lots lots ships--

The other flashed up a set of complex formula.

"Thanks," Nemta said, turning. He moved out, getting away from the bone-marrow vibrating harmonic of the damage jumpcore.

The whole ship was a wish and a pray kept together by the genius of the green mantids.

He got to the cockpit and sat down in the captain's chair, looking at his piloting controls and instruments.

Half of them were down.

The bridge was damaged too. The duralloy hull dented in along the port side.

He'd never heard of hitting an object in jumpspace before.

Friend Terry came in and sat down in the copilot's seat. He swung the chair back and forth, hearing it squeak. He sighed and reached out to tap his destroyed monitor.

"We got lucky," he said softly.

"How so?" Nemta asked.

"If we'd hit that directly we'd be nothing more than a smear of mathematics across a section of jumpspace," Friend Terry said. "We'd have never even known that we'd slammed into a stress bubble if we'd hit it directly."

Friend 303 moved in, daintily like all mantids, climbing up on one of the control consoles and examining it.

The air still stunk of fried molycircs, fried aerogel insulation, scorched metal, and the odd smell of jumpspace vapors that never smelled the same from being to being or even breath to breath.

303 had the panel off, examining the electronics. After a moment of having his bladearms caressing the electronics he flashed icons that Nemta had already learned was expressions of dismay.

"What?" Nemta asked.

Friend 303 flashed a few more icons.

--gonna get stinky-- Friend 303 said.

"How bad?" Friend Terry asked.

--all dead nine hours-- Friend 303 answered.

Nemta glanced at his remaining instruments. Most of the astrogation systems were gone but the timer was still running, adjusted from the altered speed.

Nineteen point six hours.

Nemta did the math in his head. If he dropped the power to the engines slowly they would come out at thirty-two point four hours and it gave the best chance for the ship to successfully reenter realspace without breaking up.

"Is it hardware, software, or both?" Friend Terry asked.

Friend 303 flashed some icons.

--both at control main hardware good--

"What if we did a listen to my heartbeat patch?" Friend Terry asked.

Nemta frowned. "What's that?"

"A way to run life support and other systems. It's dangerous though," Friend Terry said.

The other mantid engineer, Friend 821 came limping in. Both green mantids touched antenna for a moment then leaned back.

--77.77%-- they said.

"Hell, lucky number seven," Friend Terry said, giving a grin. "Let's do it."

The two mantids rushed out of the bridge. Nemta looked at Friend Terry who was wiping his forehead.

"What is 'listen to my heartbeat' patch?" Nemta asked again, hoping for more clarification.

"My internal systems are all bioware and cyberware. Regulate my heartbeat, endocrine system, digestive system, lungs and gas exchange, everything. It uses parts of my brain as well as cybernetic systems to make it all work," Friend Terry said.

Nemta frowned. "All right. You're a cyborg. I understand that. But what..."

Friend Terry held up his hand. "We have 303 and 821 patch my brain into the ship's systems, cross my systems with the ship, fool them both into thinking they're the same."

"Does it work?" Nemta asked.

Friend Terry nodded. "Power armor troops, some mechs, hell, some of the heavy armored vehicles and the more advanced aerospace fighters use the same system."

"Is it dangerous?" Nemta asked.

Friend Terry gave one of those very human chuckles that seemed to be loaded with other emotions. "If the system was designed for it from the ground up? Slightly. With what we're going to do? There's a slightly more than 3 in 4 chance that it will work."

"What's your survival chance?" Nemta asked.

Friend Terry shook his head. "Never tell me the odds goldenrod," he quoted.

"Goldenrod?" Nemta asked.

Friend Terry shrugged. "Ancient saying," he said. "Not sure where it comes from any more. It's a thing."

"Oh," Nemta said.

They sat quietly until the two mantid engineers came back. Nemta watched them pull out cables and wiring from the environmentals panels and consoles and braid them up. They started running cables, connecting adaptor buses, on-the-fly patching of firmware and software.

Finally they moved up to Friend Terry, holding up a cable with a lean port jack.

Sighing, Friend Terry leaned forward, crossing his arms on the console, and put his forehead against his arms. Nemta watched as a small circular scar patch changed color and then irised open. Nemta saw goosebumps raise on his skin then go away. The two mantids moved up to him, one holding the port, the other sticking their bladearm into the port. Friend Terry shuddered and started breathing heavy.

"What are they doing?" Nemta asked.

"Connecting me," Friend Terry panted.

Nemta watched as the two mantids worked until 303 leaned back, motioning at the open port. 821 jammed the connector deep in and Nemta knew from the angle and length that it penetrated deep into Friend Terry's brain.

Nemta heard the fans on the bridge kick on. Within a couple of minutes the air had cleared up. The two mantids had used sections of duraplas to secure Friend Terry to the chair and console. After a bot 821 left, heading for the jumpcore station. 303 stayed with Friend Terry, his bladearm stuck into the port in Friend Terry's back.

After a bit the door to the bridge slid open and Mother tapped in, leaning on her cane.

"I have heard," she said slowly, staring at Friend Terry's body. Nemta could see that his muscles kept twitching and his breathing kept shifting and changing.

"We wouldn't make it if he didn't do it," Nemta said. "We had less than half the time until we suffocated that we needed to reach Telkan."

Mother sat down and sighed. "The others, they have promised to pray for him. Do you think he will survive?"

Nemta shrugged. "I don't know. He would not allow the mantids to tell him the odds."

"Odds are for those who do not believe," Mother said. "Believe in your skills, belief in the strength and skill of your friends, belief in the power of teamwork and cooperation."

Nemta breathed a sigh of relief. He had been afraid that she would launch into the power of belief in the Mad Arch-Angel TerraSol.

Mother smiled slowly. "And, of course, the belief in the Mad Arch-Angel TerraSol," she said. She chuckled to herself and stood up. She tapped over to where Friend Terry was secured to the work station. She set her hand on Friend Terry's shoulder and made a slow prayer.

She then tapped out, closing the door after her.

------------------

The whole ship had picked up another vibration, the ship running as slow as possible, 'scraping' the bottom of the lowest band that was still FTL.

Mother tapped her way into the bridge, sitting down in a chair and heaving a sigh of relief.

"Everyone but those of us who must be out are in their chambers," she said.

Nemta nodded. The mantids, when designing the ship, had made it so that each of the chambers and living spaces were able to double as life pods. Heavily armored life pods more akin to warships than a refugee ship built off of wishes and guesses and prayers.

"We can drop now," Nemta said. He tapped the timer. We'll have to drop in the next hour."

"Is Friend Terry going to be returned to us?" Mother asked.

Nemta shook his head. "We don't know how long it will take for us to get further in-system or get rescued. Without Friend Terry we will have less than twelve hours of atmosphere. Even if we had engines that weren't damaged, top of the line engines, it could take fifteen to thirty hours to reach a habitable planet."

"Oh," Mother said. She looked at the mantid, Friend 821. "How is he?"

--dream a dream-- 821 flashed. --maintenance dreams--

"Oh. Is he in pain?" Mother asked. 821 flashed negative icons. "Are they good dreams?" 821 flashed icons for positive. Mother nodded, moving her fingers on the end of her cane. "Good. Good."

The elderly Hamaroosa got up to her feet, leaning on the cane. "I will leave you to it," she said slowly. She tapped her way out, leaving 821 and Nemta alone.

"Give me a count down when she straps herself in," Nemta said.

--roger roger-- Quite a few minutes passed before 821 flashed icons. --ready steady--

Nemta readied his controls, feeling tension go through him.

The ship still trembled, still shook, the harmonics from the damaged drives and core still making the whole ship shudder and shake. Hitting a few studs he locked down all the rooms, put them on their own internal systems, maglocked the doors.

Nemta turned on the intercom.

"Returning to normal space," Nemta said. "In five... four... three... two... one..."

Nemta dropped the ship into realspace.

Half the panels that still remained blew out. Something exploded deeper in the ship, then something else blew up. 821 was launched across the bridge as the computer console he was on exploded. The ship's gravity stutters, flipped twice, and cut out. Nemta had the distinct feeling of his skeleton and bone marrow leaping out from his body as the inertial compensator almost failed. The hull rang with the energy flare that blasted out from the ship as the port engine exploded, the angled strut keeping the ship safe from the energy that consumed the engine.

He screamed as the electricity from his destroyed panels arced through him, down his legs, out the bottom of his feet, through his boots to the deck plating.

He could feel the ship tumbling on all three axis. The artificial gravity wasn't quite offline, it still gave him a sense of down, but it was off to the side and either it was spinning or the ship was spinning relative to it.

He managed to keep the nutripaste he'd been living off of in his stomach rather than spew it all over what was left of his console, but his eyes were still blurry from the vibration and the jumpshock.

It took him three tries to shut off the artificial gravity generator.

The feeling of tumbling and twisting stopped.

One by one the systems went down, leaving him in the darkness.

After a bit he realized it wasn't silent in the dark.

He could still hear the fans circulating atmosphere.

He smiled, and was still smiling, when he went limp in his harness and passed out.

--------------------

The sound woke him up. A steady pinging noise.

He raised his head, looking around.

One of the monitors was still on.

He got up and almost fell. His whole left side was numb. It took him three tries to get to the panel and he gave up trying to get his numb hands to work on the display so he just tapped the icon with his nose.

"LUCKY STRIKE THIS IS TELKAN REGISTERED SYSTEM SAR SHIP GENTLE MERCY," rang out from the damaged speaker next to the display. "IF YOU CAN PLEASE SIGNAL."

Nemta stared at the panel and tapped his nose against the transmit.

"Gentle Mercy, this is Lucky Strike, we need assistance," Nemta said.

The voice lowered. "Lucky Strike, your transmission is garbled. We are moving on intercept. If you need assistance please attempt to transmit, wait to the count of five, attempt to transmit again."

Nemta followed instructions.

"Lucky Strike, we're on our way. ETA is fifteen minutes. We'll have SAR and medical personnel standing by," the speaker said.

Nemta sighed and laid his head on the panel, breathing heavily.

-------------------

TELKAN FORGE WORLDS

Did you guys see this?

---NOTHING FOLLOWS---

TERRASOL

Yeah. Pretty impressive, kid.

/////////

MANTID FREE WORLDS

What?

---NOTHING FOLLOWS---

TERRASOL

Your story, kid, you tell it.

/////////

TELKAN FORGE WORLDS

A Telkan Navy ship, the TNS Gentle Mercy, on a training mission, being watched by a Terran Space Force Medical Frigate, detected a jumpspace flare and the flare of an inertial compensator blowout. They began a search pattern and discovered the Lucky Strike which was in need of assistance. The Gentle Mercy arrived in time to rescue a group of refugees who had assembled a ship and reach the Telkan System.

On board was a Terran Assault Infantry Marine, two Terran Dropship Engineers, a Unified Military Fleet pilot, one-hundred and sixty two adult refugees and two hundred nine children and infants.

The UMF pilot and the Terran Marine are in critical condition but expected to survive.

--Galactic Press Associates

How was that?

---NOTHING FOLLOWS---

TREANA'AD HIVE WORLDS

Wait, they built their own ships? Damn.

---NOTHING FOLLOWS---

SKY NEBULA ALIGNMENT

Now that's impressive.

---NOTHING FOLLOWS---

AKLAKLAKLAKLAKLAKLAKL

Glda yeht edma ti.

--N---THIOGNFO LWLS---

TELKAN FORGE WORLDS

We're taking care of them. The UMF guy kept repeating that he was defecting.

Am I doing the right thing granting him defector status and the others refugee status?

---NOTHING FOLLOWS---

TERRASOL

It's your call, kid.

/////////

MANTID FREE WORLDS

That's the scary thing about freedom, sweetie. You never know if you're doing the right thing.

---NOTHING FOLLOWS---