"Or at least making noises," Caretaker said as he handed the baby back to her parent. "One last thing to do."
A sphere hovered in the middle of the room, its inner light pulsing gently.
"There. Now Lorac won't know you've left." With that, they fell.
Or perhaps fell was the wrong word. It was as though the world around them suddenly rose, and forgot to take them with it.
They plummeted through dark and empty space, around them, glowing strands of pure light stretching out to impossible distances. Then one loomed up before them, they hurtled through space, and then there was a giant golden sphere.
Then, just as suddenly, they stood in a grassy field. A large manor house with a courtyard stood nearby and a lake glinted in the sunlight. There was a sense of peace about the place.
"Welcome aboard the Imperial Warship Crags Cat," Caretaker said. "Fifteenth to bear the name, built about five thousand years ago, commissioned by the Emperor of the Fourth Empire as part of his personal gaurd. Unfortunutly, no sooner had it been delivered and staffed, then an artifical virus got loose, spread via a matter-transmission system, and wiped out all the organic life it could get its hands on." Caretaker shrugged. "The virus is long since dead, but the ships of the Empire remain. Waiting . . . and dying."
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A sphere hovered in the middle of the room, its inner light pulsing gently.
"There. Now Lorac won't know you've left." With that, they fell.
Or perhaps fell was the wrong word. It was as though the world around them suddenly rose, and forgot to take them with it.
They plummeted through dark and empty space, around them, glowing strands of pure light stretching out to impossible distances. Then one loomed up before them, they hurtled through space, and then there was a giant golden sphere.
Then, just as suddenly, they stood in a grassy field. A large manor house with a courtyard stood nearby and a lake glinted in the sunlight. There was a sense of peace about the place.
"Welcome aboard the Imperial Warship Crags Cat," Caretaker said. "Fifteenth to bear the name, built about five thousand years ago, commissioned by the Emperor of the Fourth Empire as part of his personal gaurd. Unfortunutly, no sooner had it been delivered and staffed, then an artifical virus got loose, spread via a matter-transmission system, and wiped out all the organic life it could get its hands on." Caretaker shrugged. "The virus is long since dead, but the ships of the Empire remain. Waiting . . . and dying."