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"Oh. Sorry." Mildly embarrassed by his misinterpretation of Myshel's speech and the pointlessness of his attempts to match it, Zakitaj nevertheless stayed focused on the situation. He had very, very clear goals in undertaking this mission, so clear that the altruistic part of him nagged at his conscience, trying to remind him that he should be willing to do as much for anyone and everyone.

He stepped aboard the Flarerider with the others and began to look around. Almost immediately he wished for one of the sleek exploratory shuttles used by his people, but he remembered that they'd had no weapons and had been easily incinerated by concentrated Broan fire. A few exposed wires was a small price to pay for better armor and (presumably) weaponry, and he could hardly complain given that the ship he'd reached Earth in hadn't had any sleek features at all.

It was clear that Myshel was more than just a competent pilot; she was good, very good. It was a wonder that the Broan had managed to force her down at all; the ambush that damaged the ship must've been fast and well-planned, though that didn't surprise him. His enemies might not have much in the way of culture, but in the field of killing they had made many advancements. He stood with one hand calmly pressed against the hull as the ship launched; a shimmer passed over his armor, absorbing the kinetic energy that might otherwise strain his outstretched arm.

It wasn't a new feeling to be in space; he'd done it a dozen times or so, though only once for a long journey. But the Flarerider wasn't the sort of ship he was used to, and its unfamiliarity made it unique. Though not like the others, who gasped merely at the thought of being beyond their homeworld, Zak was amazed in his own way; amazed that his people had, in some ways, been so far beyond even the privateers of another civilization.

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Does ever hot chick in Freedom speak Russian, what the hell? mused the befuddled Atlas. "" Atlas smiled weakly, still not nearly over the shock of actually being in space.

"So..." he said, addressing the gathered heroes in English "... ve got a plan or are ve going to ving it and hope it all vorks out?" Atlas was just hoping there was something to alleviate his nerves; he knew he could bounce bullets, ion cannons and blaster pistols... not so much.

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"One microcycle, please," Myshel responded to Atlas, tapping a touch screen to her left. Standing from her seat, she reached up and grasped a handle protruding from the ceiling and promptly yanking it downward.

A surprisingly melodic but genderless voice chimed from the ship. "Initializing wormhole." Outside, points of light gathered on the tips of the four fins which extended from the rear of the vessel, and a growing hum could be heard rumbling from the engine room. On the bridge, the heroes watched as loose space debris swirled in front of them, caught in the pull of what looked like a sudden storm, crackling with energy.

The Tempestian pilot sat back down and clipped a pair of interlocking belts across herself before turning to her passengers. "This timeagain you will definitely wishwant to sit down," she advised, indicating the seats in front of the various consoles on the bridge, as well as a row of chairs along the wall across from the panoramic screen.

Jack took her advice, vaulting over the back of the chair adjacent to Myshel's pilot's console and strapping himself in. The 'storm' in front of them vaguely reminded his energy awareness of Phantom's dimension spanning magics, giving the sense of being in two places at once, across unimaginable distance. "So..." he said with a slight wince, "we're gonna fly right into that, huh?"

The blue skinned alien woman turned to him with a wild, toothy grin. "Oh yes, Jackblade," she replied. Reaching up to rotate the extended handle ninety degrees, locking it into place, she pushed one of the control sticks in front of her all the way forward. The Flarerider surged forward, disappearing from the space above Earth into a tunnel of rippling blue light.

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"Vell crap..." not wanting to take any chances, Atlas straps himself into a chair. He could probably take the impact, but he wasn't exactly sure anything else in the cabin could. The mental image of a shoe in a dryer came to mind. "It is days like today zat I vished I had gone back to school so I knew vat exactly ve are diving into. Zen again, maybe it is better zat I don't know..."

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Arrowhawk quickly grabbed a seat and strapped himself in. Bumpy flights? God, this is exactly why I ditched the Hawkwing idea. "What, all this technology and you can't keep it flying smoothly?" He flipped a leather flap onto the top of his quiver and tied it quickly to prevent his arrows spilling across the floor.

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Zakitaj breathed in sharply; this wasn't anything like any starship he'd ever seen. He'd only traveled on vessels approaching the speed of light, but the idea of a wormhole... It had been known to the scientists of the Khaladi, but they'd never tried to actually open one. It had taken him eight long years to travel to Earth, frozen in cryogenic slumber. With a device such as this, that journey could theoretically be completed almost instantly, depending on who you believed when it came to wormholes. He sat down and strapped himself in; he had no idea what this experience was going to be like, and foolish bravado might well get him splattered across the ceiling.

"Amazing," he whispered to himself. "They're much further ahead of us than I could've imagined."

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"This timeagain you will definitely wishwant to sit down,"

"'Wormhole'? Oh dear!" Estelle quickly got into one of the console seats and buckled herself in; still not feeling entirely secure, she lashed herself into the seat with her hair. "Exactly how far are we travelling, Myshel, and how long will it take?"

It was all so thrilling that her inner child completely overwhelmed her analytical perspective as she could only stare in wonder at the amazing lightshow just beyond the cockpit; without even realizing it, the blonde chemist squeeled with innocent glee.

"Ahhhhhheeeeeeeeeee!"

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As shimmering blue light filled the bridge's panoramic screens, Myshel released the controls and unbuckled herself from her seat before turning to her new allies. "We are bearingheaded toward where we thinkfound Krak-En's latest base. It will take roughguess a megacycle." The pilots antennae drooped slightly. "Is not very good wormhole," she admitted. "Still, gives me timechance to show you the Flarerider's controls."

Jack followed her lead and unbuckled himself. Despite the lightshow outside, it felt as though the vessel wasn't moving at all. "Well, I guess I'd like to find out what all of these readouts mean," he decided, pointing to the information overlain and streaming across the panoramic screen. He turned to the other Earth heroes. "What about you guys?"

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So, wormhole travel wasn't instantaneous; that answered Zakitaj's first question. Like the others he unbuckled himself, noting that the ship stabilized once they were actually within the wormhole. He stood and walked to the front of the ship, some of his dark mood lifting as he engaged in one of his favorite passtimes; trying to figure out how things worked. He'd done his research into Earth technology, and he knew the technology of his own people well. It blended well with another of his favorite passtimes, one which Physicus hadn't been able to cure him of: showing off.

"Well," he began in response to Jack's question, "Unless I miss my guess, this one monitors thrust. It's not showing anything now, seeing as we're in a wormhole and traveling in excess of the speed of light without using our engines. This one monitors shield power and hull integrity, so if it starts blinking red, that's when we need to worry, assuming red is the color for danger in the Lorr Republic. Here we've got weapons, and here's life support, which is the other one we need to worry about." Turning to Myshel and actually smiling for the first time since this strangeness began, he confidently asks, "Am I right?"

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Atlas held out his hand, indicating towards the star board side of the ship in general. "And all of zose lights over in zat corner over zere say "Big Red Man" no touchpress." said Atlas with a smirk. Truth be told, one of the best arts of getting his powers was that he didn't have to drive any more. He wasn't a bad driver per se, but the roads were still safer without him on them. He did not want to know what would happen if you gave him the wheel to a inter steller space ship.

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Myshel nodded to Arrowhawk. "Yes, that lightsign is always red. If its flashblink is syncopated, then it is time for worry," she clarified, indicating the readouts the Khalados native had pointed out. "Zakitajprince is correct, though, that is the shieldstrong monitor. Rest it trueright as well, except that this," the pilot amended gesturing first to a control station and then to a series of inert matching symbols of the panoramic screen, "is not our weaponburn, but incoming attacks. We passed the Flarerider's cannon installments on our waywalk here." Electricity arched briefly between her antennae as she turned back to the grim archer. "You are an aimshotman, yes? I can tellteach you how those work."

Meanwhile, Jack of all Blades moved to take a look around the bridge, ending up next to Atlas. "I hear you, big guy. Never know which one of those keys is for releasing all the air into space or something, huh?" He gave the Russian a quizzical look. "Actually, less big than normal. Didn't know you could adjust your size like that."

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"Um... weapon systems? Like... orbital cannons? No way, José. No," said Arrowhawk, standing bolt upright. They'd ask me... to use THAT!? "When I agreed to help, noone mentioned me using huge guns." He spat the last word, glaring at the pilot. "No. There's always another way. I'll help you fight as best I can, but I won't use a gun."

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Atlas chuckled at Jack's joke, hitting on the very reason Atlas hadn't pushed anything. He had no idea how he would react to space, and the last thing he wanted to do was get an abject lesson in his own mortality. "It's part of ze new model." said Atlas with a smile. His body changed appearance looking like a blue spiky humanoid with what looked like armor plating. "I just look different though. Still just as strong and tough. Well... less because I'm smaller." Atlas was also apparently able to kill his accent.

Atlas shot a quizzical eye at Arrowhawk as he refused to man the guns, but didn't press the issue figuring it was a personal issue. The more human heroes always had some intense feeling of some kind. It was best to not push that button either.

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Jack stepped between Arrowhawk and Myshel, momentarily distracted from the startling revelation of Atlas' expanded power suite. "Woah, 'Hawky, calm, man. She didn't mean anything by it." The swashbuckler turned to face the pilot as well as the archer. "I mean, it's not like we're talking handgun, right? Probably got some stun-setting particle laser beam kinda things, right?"

The Tepestian gave Jack an awkward look. "Actually... the Flarerider has two sets of fourquad-linked railguns. Much powerhurt for a ship her sizeclass."

He responded with a nonplussed gape. "...okay." Jack rounded back to Arrowhawk, saying, "Even so, let's be practical, huh? We need some way to defend ourselves, and you're easily the best shot here." The fencer shrugged. "Unless you're planning on getting out and shooting at other spaceships with your bow?"

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He responded with a nonplussed gape. "...okay." Jack rounded back to Arrowhawk, saying, "Even so, let's be practical, huh? We need some way to defend ourselves, and you're easily the best shot here." The fencer shrugged. "Unless you're planning on getting out and shooting at other spaceships with your bow?"

"Few quick facts. One, I am a good shot, but for all you know, it's with a bow. Don't make assumptions. Secondly, I'm guessing you lack physics knowledge. A fired arrow in vacuum won't lose momentum until it smashes through a ship's hull, especially if said arrow has an explosive charge strong enough to hurt invulnerable metahumans rigged to it."

He shook his head. "Fine, I'll do it, since none of you took the time out of your busy schedules to learn to shoot in a straight line. Just let the record show it's under protest, and I want to be shown where to aim such as it won't kill the ship's passengers. They might be killers. I'm not."

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Zakitaj's eyes got really, really wide as Atlas shapechanged. He half-muttered half-sputtered something about the law of matter conservation, then shook his head, agape. He should know by now that science rarely applied to metahumans as it did to everyone else, but he was still shocked every time he saw something like this which he couldn't possibly explain. He was distracted a moment later, however, by Arrowhawk's words; the man was clearly agitated, but they were going to need him, and that meant that he needed to be calmed.

"I understand your qualms here," he began cautiously. "My people banned slug-based weaponry three hundred years ago because such weapons cannot easily be used to subdue but kill all too easily. I have my own code against killing even my most hated enemies, because to do so is to become like them. I know a thing or two about computers and starships; perhaps I can take a sensors position and help identify crippling but non-lethal targets?"

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"And they said taking up full time heroics right out of high school would deprive me of a higher education," Jack genially quipped in reply as Arrowhawk snarkily made his position clear. "Who's laughing now, Mrs. Cranston? MLA formatting is a useful life skill my foot."

At Zakitaj's suggestion, Jack threw an arm around the prince's armoured shoulders. "See? Zak-Attack here gets what it's all about! Teamwork. Synergy." The swashbuckler removed his hand from the royal personage to interlace his fingers demonstratively. "Pooling our leverage to maximizing our paradigm, amirite?" He looked around the bridge. "Guys, c'mon. We're in space, on our way to rescue a princess. If this isn't the most awesome thing you do this week, clearly there are some wicked parties nobody's telling me about."

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The archer's clear aversion to lethal violence was certainly commendable, though Gossamer wondered how easy it would be to avoid it in ship-to-ship combat. With the ship more or less stable, she released herself from her own hair and stood up to examine the cabin more thouroughly.

"I would think it will be quite challenging to fire upon another pressurized vessel and not breach the hull, leading to explosive decompression. Perhaps your best chance would be to target the ship's propulsion systems? After all, a crippled ship will have a much harder time giving chase."

"Guys, c'mon. We're in space, on our way to rescue a princess. If this isn't the most awesome thing you do this week, clearly there are some wicked parties nobody's telling me about."

The blonde scientist smiled at the rakish swordsman's words. "No, this is definitly the highlight... though feel to invite me to any such parties you might attend in the future, and I promise to do the same in return." ;)

Then she approached Atlas. "Did you say this was a recent development, the shapeshifting? How long have you been able to do this?" A thin golden wisp gently slid across his massive chest; clearly Estelle is fascinated by the sudden metamophosis. "One doesn't see this level of precision very often."

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Atlas had to laugh a bit at Jack. He was a nice guy to hang around. In fact the Interceptors were good people all around. If it weren't for instances he would have liked to join with them. He didn't want to abandon the Midknighters per se, it was just that he sort of felt a bit over his head when he was with them.

Morphing back to his usual self Atlas answered Gossamer "It's something I've always had, but have recently honed. Only about a month ago since I got good at it. I'm able to tell my body how to operate kind of. "Be stronger" being the easiest command. I figured out how to put myself back together a while back, and now I figured out to look like someone else. Like so..." Atlas's form collapsed into the slender form of Gossamer, hair and all. The only way to tell the two apart was that Gossamer's hair seemed a bit more lively, and Atlas still stood like a guy, so his posture was all off.

"I don't like doing too often though," said Atlas, using Gossamer's voice. "And I'm really weak like this. I could probably only throw a car a few feet like this. If I tried being strong too..." Atlas form changed to an incredibly muscled version of Jack of All Blades. "People tend to see through the disguise."

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Zakitaj raised an eyebrow at Jack, especially at being called "Zak-Attack", but found himself chuckling at the man's words despite the awkward half-hug. He was not, at heart, a serious person, which was why his new responsibilities weighed on him so heavily. He hoped that the superhero's way with words wasn't his only good quality because it would not save them from enemy starships, though it certainly might provoke them into making a mistake. Turning back to the shapechanger, he pondered once again just how many laws of science were being broken by his existence.

And then he burst out laughing, his formerly grim demeanor breaking entirely. "What a shame you can only throw a car a few feet," he said as he tried to wipe tears of mirth from his eyes only to discover that his suit was active when his hand bumped his transparent faceplate. Realizing that he had just divested himself of his dignity, he drew himself back up. "Er... sorry. People expect me to be able to do that sort of thing, and I can't at all, so your statement... nevermind."

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Jack gave Atlas a flat look as he assumed a bulked up version of the swordsman's own form. "Well, sure, but I make this look good," he retorted, straightening his greatcoat and sniffing haughtily.

Next to him, Myshel looked like she was about to say something when the Flarerider suddenly rocked violently, sending the heroes sprawling. The eerie light of the wormhole disappeared from the panoramic screens, to be replaced the black of regular space, broken up by swarms of small ships, looking like covered longshore boats crossed with fighter jets. Behind them, an asteroid hung in the vacuum, covered in towers and tunnels, presumably connected to a larger structure inside. Bursts of bright green flame belched from its craters, maneuvering the massive rock about.

"Krak-En!" the Tempestian pilot cried, scrambling back into her chair as sirens wailed within the bridge. "His gravity wellpit generator pushpulled us out of the wormhole!" Lights flashed on the tactical readout as the fighters moved to begin their attack runs.

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"I don't like doing too often though," said Atlas, using Gossamer's voice. "And I'm really weak like this. I could probably only throw a car a few feet like this."

To say that Estelle was stunned by Atlas' transformation would be an act of criminal understatement; her eyes wet wide, her jaw hung open, and all she could do was blurt out a very Keanu-like, "Whoa." Then she shook her head, not unlike a Looney Tunes character, when he assumed the shape of 'Roid Freak Jack.

"I cannot...I...wow. You are truly gifted, sir." And then with a devilish smile, she added in Russian, <"We must plan a dinner date sometime soon; your newfound powers require...extensive study, and I would really like to help with that."> :twisted:

"Krak-En!" the Tempestian pilot cried, scrambling back into her chair as sirens wailed within the bridge. "His gravity wellpit generator pushpulled us out of the wormhole!"

"Blast!" Gossamer quickly moved to the alien pilot's side. "What can I do to help? I feel particularly useless right now!"

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Atlas was done with show and tell and resumed his more miniturized (read: still 6 feet tall) normal form. "" responded Atlas again in Russian. "" Atlas smiled as he remembered the last time he had dinner with a scientist. Something told him that this was going to be an even more interesting night.

"Zat asteroid looks important. Vhich way is ze airlock? I can probably jump to ze asteroid and start messing it up. Or at least give ze other ships somezing to shoot at. I can probably survive a few minutes in space." The word probably wasn't exactly the more assuring word to use.

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