A contribution by Ty52

It's like blindly stepping into a pothole - only not with your leg but with the collective mind: a hollow in the branes-strings continuum, an event loop with no horizon, and our whole team has fallen into it.
Dumb luck.
But no time to lose! Already the alluring beeps of the predatory Modularks lurking in these wrinkles in time are very close. The walls of our robotic Tongkonan must be sealed with everything that the lab, galley, cockpit, and quarters can offer.
They are good people, whom I have joined, all of them long since on the run from the miasma. I trust them and their walking ancestral home that scrambles over the mountains and through the pillars of quaternity. No one has to shout commands; we all know what to do. This includes the one who sits motionless and with closed eyes in the midst of our hectic activities, meditating treasurer of inner values, which we must never abandon lest we become the plaything of some obscure foreign interest.

(7/10. Next up: “Seventh Heaven“)

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