Six days later, with a fresh cargo of servitors, shuttles, and hab-domes for Oasis loaded up, the Ignis is ready to depart. You don't find any lock that the skeleton key would fit, but you do browse your way through more than a few books. You are well-rested when the time comes to begin the trip back, and you opt for the same stable course you used on the outbound portion of the run. It was stable last time, and mostly clear. With a little tweaking of the course near the Riptide system, you feel confident that you can avoid most problems.

The day of departure comes, and you head for the Navigator's Vestibule, change of robes folded under one arm. With an expected travel time of four to eight weeks, you once again make sure that the Vestibule is configured for a long-duration run. You pay special attention to the tethers for the nutrient feed and catheter, making sure that they shouldn't tangle when you get up to stretch and pace.

You quickly reverse the realspace portion of the course back to the Riptide system. You will be 'passing over' the same three systems, and all of the warp-routes between them are marked as stable in both directions. With your realspace course confirmed, you spend an extra moment to double and triple check it, making sure that you flipped all of the course instructions properly, and anticipated translation points line up.

Everything lines up properly, so you go ahead and ready yourself for the Warp-space part of the process. Miotal Scathanna added a new ripple last time, so you plug in and open your Third Eye anticipating more of the same. Miotal Scathanna doesn't disappoint, and you take an extra few seconds dancing through the Ignis, getting a feel for her. Again, the sense of ancient wisdom comes to you, along with the age in her adamantine bones. Satisfied with your anchor, you once again raise your gaze to the Astronomicon. Its familiar Beacon is faint, but not so faint as to be invisible. It takes you a few extra minutes to triangulate your position, and verify all of your navigational waypoints, but it is not an impossible task.

You confidently chart your course from HJG-1034 back to Riptide, matching it up quite handily with the course you took to get to HJG-1034 in the first place. You assume Helm Control, and steer the Ignis into the Warp. Your course feels right, fast, clean.

In your ignorance and arrogance, you were blind to the trials that awaited you. Within the first week, a massive spike of warp energy pierced the Gellar Field for a shivering fraction of an instant. The flare weakens almost instantly, and the Gellar Field snaps back into place, cutting of the incursion, but trapping the Warp-predators aboard the Ignis. You snap to your feet, still aware of the Bosun fighting her horrific battle against the things crawling out of the bilges.

One of them drips down the wall before you. You can't open the Vestibule to summon reinforcements, as that would also allow this thing to ravage the bridge. You will have to face it yourself. You take advantage of the moment it gives you while re-forming to slam Miotal Scathanna into its head, splattering its foulness against the bulkhead.

Impossibly, it begins to reform again, snapping a pseudopod out towards your legs. you adroitly hop over it, and bring Miotal Scathanna around in another sweep. Again you connect, and this time the fiend stays destroyed. its body shivers back into the ether, driven from the Ignis. You take a shuddering breath, and the very air itself seems befouled. You retch, spewing stomach acid and semi-digested nutrient paste across the deck. Your mind reels, but you pull yourself together, an effort of will keeping you on your feet.

"Bridge? Navigator's Vestibule, Navigator speaking. Clear, I repeat, clear. Append the Navigator's vestibule to the list of rooms to be cleansed and re-consecrated when we reach Oasis."

"Bridge to Navigator. Understood. Advise at once if the Ignis needs to Revert."

"Understood Bridge. Will advise if a crash-translation is required." You slump back into your throne and resume steering the Ignis along your chosen course, wary now for signs you may have missed earlier.

The second week yields no threat the the Ignis herself, but your vision is plagued by fragmentary, ghosting images of a pair of graceful figures. They ever stand just at the edge of your peripheral vision, and you find yourself wondering who they are. But every time you try to address them, they either make no response or fade from view. You can feel you body squirm just a bit, just enough to make you aware that these apparitions are some echo in the warp given form within the Vestibule. Their silence is both blessing and curse, for they seem to only wish to observe you, not interact with you. Or corrupt you further.

The third week crawls past. Your course doesn't waver, but it seems to take small eternities between every course adjustment as the winds of the Warp slow to just above a dead calm. Counting your heartbeats against your paces on the deck, you notice that time is flowing strangely. Sometimes liquid-slow, sometimes burning fast. Your mind strains at the tedium, and you can feel a small piece of it fray away. Your helm commands become rote, quoted directly from the book and according to hallowed formula and instruction.

Finally, the Ignis approaches the Riptide system. The malaise and dirge-slow passage of time falls away as the revision to realspace approaches. You grit your teeth, triple-check the timing and procedure, and drop the Ignis back into reality right in the approach vector for Oasis orbit. At least one part of the Transit went according to plan. You gratefully relinquish Helm Command to the Bridge, change your robe, and make for your quarters before your exhaustion overtakes you.

You make it in time, and promptly consign all of the clothing you were wearing in the Vestibule to the incinerator. Standing before your mirror, you carefully check yourself over. You show no obvious signs of fresh corruption, but everything is slightly too bright. You dim the lights down to a twilight-darkness, and the pain eases. You count yourself fortunate indeed if a weakness to bright light is the only manifestation of your brush with the Warp.

With that done, you all but collapse into your bath, soaking in the warm water. You hear Canala enter, but can't muster the strength to open your eyes, much less your mouth to give orders. You drift of into thankfully dreamless sleep.

Ten hours later, you awaken in your bed. Your muscles ache with post-workout exertion, and your head throbs with the pounding ache of a hangover. You don't remember working out or drinking heavily, and mark it down to the after-effects of a difficult transit. You drink deeply from the water glass on your bedside table, and have Canala bring you a mild painkiller with your breakfast. Watered, fed, and with your aches fading away, you feel the need to do something.

As Canala clears away the breakfast dishes, you ponder over what exactly to do. A message on your microbead indicates that Helheim's Deathwatch team are transferring back aboard, and that the Ignis will be departing just as soon as it has loaded a cover-cargo of industrial metals for a run to Outbound. With both main cargo holds being filled up, it will take another ten days, give or take, so you have time enough for a few errands.