This is not the machine shop...
Wonderful. Hohne had programmed androids to assemble the machine to fold space. That it also worked on time was interesting but it was the space--the idea that opening a door might lead you to where you were supposed to be and might simply lead you outside was disturbing to anyone with a survival instinct.
That same instinct kicked in strongly--the need to go with Harper, Hohne, and Rekeeb to the machine shop to stop the androids was more than logical, it was essential and immediate. Some orders were easier to take than others. Tyr took this one.
And disappeared in a flash of blue light. He reappeared on a completely different part of the ship, swore, and turned to go toward the machine shop again. It happened again, prompting more swearing, orienting himself, and setting out. The third time things were slightly different.
This was not a room or corridor aboard the Andromeda Ascendant but a street. Somewhere. Somewhere Tyr had never been--he knew it immediately. He smiled grimly, looking about a moment before finding a likely direction and walking, fully expecting to be engulfed in a flash of blue light and moved again.
Open to anyone who'd like to meet a 6'4" grouchy Nietzschean. The good news is that he's unarmed. Well, bone blades and can kill with his bare hands, but no gun.
That same instinct kicked in strongly--the need to go with Harper, Hohne, and Rekeeb to the machine shop to stop the androids was more than logical, it was essential and immediate. Some orders were easier to take than others. Tyr took this one.
And disappeared in a flash of blue light. He reappeared on a completely different part of the ship, swore, and turned to go toward the machine shop again. It happened again, prompting more swearing, orienting himself, and setting out. The third time things were slightly different.
This was not a room or corridor aboard the Andromeda Ascendant but a street. Somewhere. Somewhere Tyr had never been--he knew it immediately. He smiled grimly, looking about a moment before finding a likely direction and walking, fully expecting to be engulfed in a flash of blue light and moved again.
Open to anyone who'd like to meet a 6'4" grouchy Nietzschean. The good news is that he's unarmed. Well, bone blades and can kill with his bare hands, but no gun.