Callin' All Survivors

The Dreamer sighs, his victory achieved, and delivers a dream on this gentle night, from the alien bubble cities of Kahlannal. We see Protector Zhyffor, looking out from the top of the Kahlannal Spire with arms folded behind his back, expression sour. He was in a voice call, using one of the peculiar non-psychic comm units Captain Hamat had left behind.   The Dreamer flies closer, and allows us to listen in.   Imryll Novaheart: "--until the latest models can make the full trip, we need Ezorod as a stopping point."
Zhyffor: "What about the Sun Diver? Or the Atlas Diver?"
Imryll Novaheart: "The Deep Cultures Institute and the Atlas Sun Divers are currently focused on Noma with Atlas Diver. The Sun Diver... Nib and Taeress stole it."
Zhyffor: "Excuse me?"
Imryll Novaheart: "They took it to Ezorod, and they're conducting experiments on the barrier surrounding the city."   Zhyffor perked up at that, despite the implications. Outside his need for Ezorod as a waypoint between the Anassanoi and the Pact Worlds, he was concerned for his friends. He put no stake in the recent allegations against the Dream Team, but without their voice, they had no way to defend themselves.   Zhyffor: "Then they are in range of our psychic comms. I could request they continue their journey, and visit Kahlannal before returning."   The other end of the line went silent -- Zhyffor was becoming very familiar with Imryll's habit of muting, so that she could speak privately with her advisors. On the one hand, he admired that she sought the opinion of others. It was also very rude, but such was the price of diplomacy. Zhyffor waited patiently, and then the line went live again.   Imryll Novaheart: "Please send the request, along with a stern warning that they are needed back at the Archipelago. If you would like to send the first parcel of the trade agreement back with them, we'd be very pleased."   Zhyffor grinned darkly, staring out into the partial ruins surrounding the Spire. It'd been nearly two months since the Malikah Conflict, when the Servants of Sakalayo slaughtered their people, and Rastelviri came to destroy their city. Only the Dream Team had come to save them.   The Anassanoi had asked for building supplies, food, water, and other resources, all promised in trade -- not charity. The Pact Worlds wanted their technology, and the Anassanoi wanted to live. So they had agreed. But even now, with the first trade now weeks behind, they ask him to send the first shipment.   Money for life.   Zhyffor: "We shall prepare the parcel, just in case. I will report back to you if I can."
Imryll Novaheart: "Thank you, Protector. We look forward to hearing from you."   The call ended, and the line went dead. Zhyffor threw the comm unit on the ground, and gripped the railing, feeling the metal twist between his fingers. Then he paused... There was a sound -- a low clicking, which echoed throughout the half-repaired walls of the Spire. Zhyffor turned, hands cautiously landing on the blaster on his belt, and then his eyes narrowed.   It was a Human.   Zhyffor: "Who are you?"
Valentina Terris: "I'm the answer to your prayers, darling."   Zhyffor shifted his hands in askance, and then began to correct himself... But the woman recognized the customs of his people, and gestured behind him.   Zhyffor gasped.   There were disks of light -- hundreds of them -- floating above the city. Anassanoi began to fill the streets, shouting and pointing, as they recognized some of the things on board. Plants, livestock, machinery, water... Everything they needed to survive.   Valentina Terris: "Where can I put my things?"

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