<a class="link link--internal" href="https://bluemoonroleplaying.com/forums/showthread.php?tid=83335&amp;pid=2015179#pid2015179"><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#dda0dd">Iona Knutesdottir<br/>
</span></a>Kohlberg Station / The St. Anne<br/>Evening Watch<br/>Tagged: Thomyris, Donovyn, Dr. Khan, All<br/><br/>Ignoring Thomyris' questions, Iona saved her breath for the run.  As soon as they were in the cover of a corner, Iona pushed her pistol around it back towards the room and held the trigger down until the last shard whined out.  The empty magazine auto-ejected, a mere floppy plastic bag now that had once been rigid with the ultra-compressed shards.  As Thomyris plotted their escape route, Iona put her spare magazine in and kept firing random bursts around the corner until the other woman sped off, her Captain in tow.<br/><br/>Sirens continued to whoop about the station and hatches were closing in preparation for the only certain way to stop a fire from burning through an entire station and killing everyone.<br/><br/>They were going to vent a portion of the station to space to snuff the flames out, and anyone who wasn't in a secure space or a suit.  If it had been the St. Anne she would have linked in and determined where the problem was and if they were safe.  Here, she could only hope they weren't in the affected area.<br/><br/>A few minutes later, almost back to where they'd stashed the suits, the alarm stopped and doors began to open again.  They were safe, from the fire anyway.  Despite their haste, and Thomyris' agitation, Iona wasted precious time checking the woman's work on her suit.  Of her own she was certain, but Thomyris was agitated and scared - and with good reason it seemed - and Iona wanted to make sure they hadn't escaped just to let her die from a stupid mistake.<br/><br/>"I need a hard burn," she told Thomyris, finally speaking.  Finger taps so rapid they seemed to blur threw a course from her 'pad into the gravsled's computer and it popped up as a bright arcing line connecting the station to the St. Anne.  "Wait," she said and opened a line to the ship and a request for it to be repeated down through the St. Anne's powerful comms to her crew - wherever they might be.<br/><br/>"Immediate recall.  Say again, immediate recall.  Any way you can get back to us.  If someone can't make it, mark their last known and move.  Don't wait.<i>Sauve qui peut</i>," she ordered, meaning every man for himself.<i>We will come back for you, I swear</i>, she added to herself.  Iona wanted to tell the crew but needed them to have the drive, the impetus of thinking they were all alone.<br/><br/>"Thomyris, the course is locked in.  You can do this.  I need a max-g burn.  Don't worry, I've set up the flip move to activate automatically if you can't but I need you to try and stay conscious.  Donovan's going to be calling and I won't be able to answer.  You've got to relay the situation to him until I can come back."<br/><br/>"Burn it," she ordered and clenched her hands into fists, head back against the padding of the helmet in anticipation of the crushing gee that was about to -<br/><br/>Blackness.<br/><br/>Iona recovered briefly at the flip, the sudden absence of thrust all but ricocheting the blood back to her brain and she gasped at the pain of it.  They were on course, the maneuver was good, and Thomy-<br/><br/>Blackness.<br/><br/>This time when the thrust cut out just as they came to a dead stop mere meters from the St. Anne's hull, Iona didn't come out of it and her face was visible inside the helmet, mouth open, blood pooled against the curve of the transparent face from burst blood vessels in her nose.  She was breathing but her vitals were in distress.  The grav sled hadn't pulled more than 4 gees but to Iona that was a much heavier load than it would be to a normal human.