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It had been no easy transmat.

What should've been a short drop to the planet's surface became a long fall, as Astro-18 slammed down into a sharp incline. He rolled, head over heels, a one man avalanche. Everything spun around him so fast he wasn't entirely sure if he was rolling, or if the world was rolling around him.

Finally it ended, and he was on his feet and running.

"That could've gone worse," Harwell said, appearing over his shoulder. His blue optic shone as he scanned the area. "I believe we're only three clicks off course, but it's hard to say. A large portion of the available nav-sat picture is missing."

"We'll make it, Harwell," Astro-18 said. "And we'll put an end to the ritual. Besides, what's wrong with taking the back way around? It may end up saving us time."

Harwell harrumphed, his shell contracting into the approximation of a grimace. "Yes, and it could also get us killed."

Astro-18 laughed. "We'll never know if we don't go."

The ground before him ended abruptly, and Astro-18 skidded to a halt, kicking up rocks that rolled down into the dark below.

Beneath him, a score thralls turned toward the sound, and their screeching echoed up the cliffside.   "I guess you were right," Harwell said.

The Wizard appeared, weaving between her mewling children.

It was her, Fushyurus. He would recognize that "L"-shaped scar anywhere. After all, he gave it to her.

Astro-18 readied his pulse rifle in one hand, as his other filled with bristling spikes of arc energy.

"Hey now," Harwell said, worry creeping into his voice. "You're not--"

"Game on," Astro-18 said.

He leapt.