Hugh climbs out of the crash couch, stumbles into the next lavatory and revisits his breakfast. Now considerably lighter but feeling better for the experience, he climbs back into the main passenger space.

"We can't stay here forever, they'll spot us from the air if they come around. Bello, are there any caves in this canyon big enough for the Morningstar? I don't want the added visibility of rising back to ground level."

He looks around to the huddled masses.

"Once we've got the Morningstar hidden, we can start a rescue op - and fetch the Resistance leaders."

"It's going to take us some time to get ready to go pick up Max, Arketta and Angel anyway," Davis says. "Bello, we're going to need to...modify your gravsled. We're going to need it if we're going to pick up our teammates, and since we want to be as fast, low and dark as we can when we do it, I want to strip everything not necessary to it flying and staying in one piece off. Of course, we still need to be able to get out of here." He thinks for a second. "Do you know anyone with a gateway-max freighter who will help us?"

Angel moves faster as Arketta's explanation develops.

"Sounds like the best bet is to try and outpace them then, and hope they don't pick up a trail. Military means we're not going to get any more free passes."

Bello looks decidedly peaked. He stumbles up to take a look at the ship's surroundings. Luis already has a map imposed with their location marked.

"If we head up this canyon for another 10 kilometers, yes, there should still be a large overhang that may work."

"As for the sled," Bello turns to Davis. "Do what you need to it. I don't think it's a good idea to call for anyone's help, however. We won't have much time to move as it is before they'll have reinforcements over that wreckage back there, and once they confirm we're not dead they'll be listening for anything that might give us away. In the city, we could at least use codespeak over vox, but using a transmitter out here would just be giving away our position."

"And thank you, pilot," Bello tells Luis. "I would have not thought it possible for this ship to outwit two interceptors."

"I'm with Bello on this on, vox is out of the question. Also, they jammed our radios in the city, it stands to reason that they might be able to zero in on those, too. I say we move to the overhang quickly, go to EMCON and make our move when its dark. Angel's with the team outside, I'm sure they can make it for a couple of hours."

Davis nods. "Sounds good to me. We can worry about getting the Morningstar out of here after we're all back together and clear of the Imperium. One-Ton, it's been a few years since I've chopped and sectioned a car, but I'll lend a hand once I've taken care of other business." He walks back to where Ngawai is, and helps her out of the couch. "You need anything? You were screaming pretty loud back there."

Semo is glad to be on solid ground when he finally crawls from the crash couches. *Any landing you walk away from...* he repeats over and over in his mind.

Not having anything better to do, the big Samoan will help with hiding / disguising the Morningstar, and field retrofitting the gravsled, in that order.

Luis kicks the skids up and takes the team up the canyon, moving the big freighter slowly but surely through the meandering rocky walls. A hairy tusked beast the size of a large bear scampers downriver on six legs at the Morningstar's approach. Sure enough, there's a huge overhang, a natural shelf extending up into a rocky bridge stretching over the river below. The overhang's barely big enough for the Morningstar to slide into, but Luis does manage the task with a host of tiny nudges to the impellers.

"Some painkillers," Ngawai manages. "Felt like my arm was getting ripped off again." Davis inspects the bounty hunter's wound. The skin hasn't regenerated, but the muscle and tendons are growing back as far as Davis can tell. Ngawai can move her fingers, although she prefers not to - her nerves are switching back on, sending white-hot pins and needles coursing down her arm.

With Ngawai passed out on painkillers once more, Davis and Semo turn their attention to Bello's gravsled. One-Ton and Bello's driver, Aq, are in the cargo bay as well.

"Gonna take down anything that's white on it," One-Ton says. "Break up the lines too. Take off anything that's luxury or touches a cortex or vox network. Semo, can you head outside and collect some of that scrub off the canyon walls? My idea's to make it a kinda cage-body, open-air to save weight. We'll sling your gear up top - it's soft fabric, it shouldn't give off much of a signature. On top of that, and to break up the lines we'll fix some scrub or branches. Davis, you and Aq get on the bodywork. I'll see if I can't rig 'er to run quiet. We won't go as high, but somethin' tells me you won't wanna go high."

Davis nods. He's taken his armor off and has a pair of welding goggles on his head. "Low, fast and dark is the name of the game," Davis says. He puts the goggles over his eyes and picks up the first completely recognizable tool he's seen since he's walked through the gate: a plasma cutter. He pushes the trigger a few times and watches the short white-hot burst of plasma pop out the end, and smiles. "Shall we?" he says to Aq.