The relentless grey covered Georgiana's heart in a blanket of despair. It had no end or beginning, just an expanse of solitude. They had been traveling down dimension for weeks without a clue as to what they were doing, only drills and maneuvers in the tight confines of the Quantum Boat.

Yesterday had been her first taste of the tight squeeze. Going up dimension was like an adult being pushed through the birth canal. It was unbearable as Georgiana felt her essence being stretched beyond mental or spiritual comprehension. She had climbed into the conning tower, with the buff Sergeant pushing her up into the little hole.

"Get going missy, we have a three second window to get Astrid. Go now! Go, Go, Go.

She released herself to the elements for the first time, unencumbered, purified. The pain ripped through her mind, then she was hanging half naked out the conning tower, reaching one gloved hand out to the silhouette hanging in the obscure distance. To Georgiana, she had no idea she was under water and the fact she was getting older didn't bother her. The mission was over before it had even begun. She had retrieved Astrid from the warm water of the Southern Ocean, leaving Kato behind to fend for himself. That was yesterday, now she was down in the hold of the ship, doing what all bored military personnel do.

Georgiana had the privilege of entertaining the company of a few officers who, despite regulations, found a constant excuse to be in her presence. She was a grunt, old guard Marine from a better banished time, but she found herself privy to classified information as well as a healthy dose of training on the side.

"What's the real name of this tub, anyway?" she asked after knocking the buff Sergeant flat on his back for the third time. He was married, and decent as far as she knew because he hadn't hit on her.

It was a relentless battle for any young woman. The good ones were few and far between. She was only twenty three, yet she had a variety of techniques to ward off the unwanted advances of the male species. Often, just pretending she wasn't interested or ignoring their advances was enough to maintain a safe distance. But when that failed, she knew it was appropriate to use her rudeness. It was a subtle cue, not blatant and outright nasty. She would make specific comments and niceties to let him know that he needed to back off. Then, there was the direct approach.

Please leave me alone.

That makes me very uncomfortable.

Get the heck away from me, now! And then she would punch them in the face.

"Barron-shark. The name of the ship is Barron-shark." He smiled at her faraway look. In this line of work he was used to it. The detachment that accompanied personal issues. "You know we're here because of the Bots, don't you?" he continued. She was too good at what she did to keep her in the dark, even though he was disobeying a direct order.

It was the first time she had any useful information regarding the mission. Why were they keeping it a secret Maybe they would be captured and she would crack when tortured. Could some entity read her mind? Did they think she was a spy? Why wouldn't they tell her?

"No, I know nothing about any scrubby bots." She held out her hand and pulled him off the thin carbon weave floor. "Tell me about the bots, so when I surface and kick some freaking humans butt, I won't have to feel guilty." That made him smile.

"Purline is our primary interrogation source. He has been blindsided by unknown information that doesn't fit normal protocols."

"What are you talking about?" she asked.

"We believe there is an alien presence that only certain bots can detect."

Georgiana was curious. "So we have an enemy, but we've never seen them."

"That about sums up the mission."

"And we are relying on a robot for our information?"

"Yep," said the buff Sergeant. "I have to go on duty now. Thanks for the workout, Private First Class." With that he turned and left the gym. She was puzzled as she wiped the sweat from her brow and made her way down to the bottom of the ship. She wanted to see this robot for herself, and no one stopped her.

Restricted Area, the small sign read, but the bulkhead door slid noiselessly aside and she entered unchallenged. Down here was the narrowest part of the ship and the room was a single hallway with banks of computers and equipment lining both sides. Hot and stuffy, it was a claustrophobics' nightmare, but there was something different about the way it was organized. Everything was jumbled and seemed out of place, with wires and electronics hanging out into the walkway. Further along she could hear banging and the light clink of fine tools, but there was also singing. It was a happy tune, with the faint hint of words, but the back-beat was pure techno.

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