Log:Explorer's Guild: The No-Good Very Bad Adventure

Explorer's Guild: The No-Good Very Bad Adventure

OOC Date: April 13, 2021
Location: Druckenwell
Participants: Explorer's Guild: Nerys Greystorm, Netep Muri, Yoska Lash and Corr Waldin with Special Guest Stars Mandl, Tarq Najjic, and Kasia Ashkuri

DRUCKENWELL

It was a routine expedition, the sort of outing the Explorers have all the time where nothing goes wrong and everything goes according to plan. They'd all piled aboard a small submersible despite their limited experience with such vessels ("How much different than a starship can it be?" Corr had asked rhetorically) and quickly made themselves at home before diving down into the depths.

And so, a few hours on, Corr is sat near the front, peering out at the brown-green murky depths. He's not driving, of course; no no no. Someone else is doing that. He's not operating the submersible's small extensible arms, either. Someone else is doing that. He's SUPERVISING, a word which here means 'watching in a way that is neither helpful nor necessary'.

The vessel, a superlight pressurized tube with a few bubble-like protrusions where the hull is made of transparisteel instead of durasteel for easy viewing, is not exactly cramped but no one would mistake it for spacious. There's just enough room for the group to fit, perhaps with Yoska seated on someone's lap. Screens of the monochromatic variety, toggles, and buttons festoon the opaque walls, while the viewing areas each trail a pair of the small extensible arms curled tight beneath them (unless someone is manning them).

And what can they see beyond the viewports? ...it's very dark. The lights shining out of the sub do little to reveal the great beyond, though a whirling stream of small bubbles, particles of silt, and the odd odd-looking fish do pass by as the craft drifts slowly along, a modest water-repulsor in the rear its main impetus.

"Let's keep going just a little bit deeper," Corr remarks, adjusting his spot in the narrow seat with its thin padding that has compressed down to nothing at this point in the ride. "We've got some nice samples but I feel like nothing we've grabbed yet is really stand-out. I don't want to go home with nothing to show for it, y'know?"

This was the Explorers' Guild, nothing ever went wrong, ever. That was a true fact you could take to the bank. Nerys, of course, very likely did not have her credits in that bank, because that was how they fleeced you. Nevertheless, she tipped her chin at Corr's comment, not looking away from the controls as she adjusted the nose of the craft to dig down a little more deeply into the watery depths. "At what point do we decide we've discovered all there is to discover? Please tell me it's when the running credits total is enough to actually pay us for this expedition. I don't want another gift shop discount."

Mandl's flaps collapse, wry. They barely look up from their viewscreen, a scope throwing a rectangle of blue light across their cheekbones. "... a shame, Nerys, I was all set to give you my book of coupons for 25% off caffless stimcaff at the staff canteen."

At the controls of the front-facing extensible manipulator arms is one Tarq Najjic. His outfit is a concession to the nature of exploring: denim pants, durasteel-toed boots halfway to his knee, a puffy "jacket" that's really more of a vest as it has no sleeves, leaving his collared shirt as his arms only bit of cover right down to his hands, which have orange leather gloves on them that puff out after the wrists. Both those gloved hands are on the sticks that control the front arms, and even though they're not extended right now, Tarq is /ready/, green eyes intent on the front viewport.

It helps that looking out the front viewport lets him have an excuse to ignore Kasia.

"Perhaps grab fish," he suggests for the third time, as a weird aquatic swimmer comes into view of the light and then vanishes again. "Is not much else for last hour, no?"

Yoska Lash is inappropriately attired for this adventure in a purple halter dress made of some kind of shiny plasticky material, 30 lbs of costume jewelry, and big clunky black combat boots. He rolls his eyes when Corr wants to go a little bit deeper. "That's what he -- no, I won't," Yoska comments, then rolls his eyes back the other way when Corr says they haven't got enough with their current samples. A song ensues.

"Under the sea with my boy WAL-D, Lookin around for what else there might be You know I think I heard a rumor That our Corr ain't got no humor? Just sayin between me and you I don't see how could be true He is surely poking fun -- We've seen enough, HELLO, WE'RE DONE."

It's been a good stretch since Netep Muri, Dr Girlfriend, has answered the EXG call. She's been...indisposed. Pieces from her right ear are missing, her facial tattoo is more scar than ink, something Muri did in one of her past lives has caught up to her, looks like.

The fact that she is here now in spite of her dislike for water of substantial depth (a large puddle could give her the creeps) is testament to just how much she's missed this dysfunctional family. Emphasis on the 'this' because Muri is a woman of many 'families' and none of them are particularily up to code. ExG is likely her most sane bunch. Which brings us to the 'now' of her listening to Corr's painfully optimistic determination to perservere through more of this watery, turbid tomb.

"Y'know, there's lots to uncover in a desert, too. Plenty more air and considerably less likelihood of imploding, should seals fail, too," Muri notes through slightly tone-altering comm after cleaing away a dry tickle in her throat. She's been breathing filtered air since they climbed into this thing - filtered through her EVA suit, that is. It's the closest thing she's got to diving gear and she's not taking it off. Not even to piss. That's what other filters are for. Her helmet dips aside to bump against shoulder, rub at a chin that's separated by two inches of air and visor. Habit. Her hands maintain a grip on the little toggle sticks that guide her prosthetic sampling arm outside the craft.

Kasia is here in her too nice expedition gear that looks as though it must be relatively new, hair up in an elaborate twist of braids to keep it up and out of the way. She has a bag that, when on the move is worn across her body but is currently sat on the floor by her feet, within reach but not in the way. Her gaze has mostly been on the limited view ahead, though every so often she shoots Tarq a look that is part study, part suspicion, but for the time being it is all limited to looks and nothing more. She's torn away from one of these looks as Yoska bursts into song, the eloquent artist that is the reason she's got a perfumed handkerchief in her hand that she holds up to her nose every so often. "Nicely done."

"Do you know how many people die in the desert, Muri?" Corr replies, shifting to look over his shoulder at the beat-up scholar. "I don't, but it's not zero. People die all over the place. They die in space. They die in the ocean. They die in bars and on the toilet, I bet. Are you goin' to stop using the toilet? Don't answer that." He looks back out the viewport, glancing down at the depth meter, which reads.... 1000 meters. "We're not even that /deep/, in absolute terms, I mean, it probably goes much deeper than this," he continues, like that is somehow a comfort. "You might even survive if the sub /did/ crack."

Something on the panel array beeps at them, then, a beep that hasn't happened before. "What is that?" He cranes his neck, trying to see it better. A spinning line outlines a large dot, back and to the right of the center. Then it spins around and hits it again. Beep. It's closer now. "What /is/ that?"

There's an observation bubble on the aft of the sub, and a spotlight with controls inside to direct it.

"Speed us up and dive us down," Corr instructs to Nerys, some tension in his voice, but the limited view in the front abruptly fills with chimneys and spires of whorled rock jutting up from the ocean floor, pocked by decaying grey coral-like growth and lichen. "And watch out for those."

"I know I would," Nerys offered to no one in particular, and only partly in answer to Corr's comment on surviving the depths. her eyes lifted from the controls, trying to cut through the darkness to try to see what it was that was setting off the alarms. "That's moving way too much to be a fixture on the floor." And then she dove, because Corr was the boss, moving perhaps a bit too fast as she tried to both dive and try to put the coral chimneys between the ship and whatever it was that was winking at them from uot of the darkness. This did not go well, as the lone beep was now overwrought trying to be heard above the series of many other beeps and alarms as the vessel shuddered, the metal screaming as it scraped up against the living rock. "It's fine, we're fine, go about your business."

Mandl's species is weirdly-adapted to 'dim light, cramped conditions, computers keeping us alive;' but then, anyone who's been to Clak'dor wouldn't second guess that. They steer the craft's lamp with mathematical precision, all the better to survive-- oh say ten minutes or so--

The Kuati fop turns to look where Mandl aims the spotlight, letting go of the manipulator controls as he twists around in his chair. He narrows his eyes, stares - stares harder, opens one eye back up. He maintains his focus even as the vehicle scrapes along the rocks around them. He raises his voice: "Tarq Najjic sees big, big shape, coming for us. Writhes; hard to see." He says sideways to Nerys, "Must go faster." Yes, we're still ploughing through rocks, but we need to be doing so at /higher velocity/. He glances at Kasia, then at Yoska. "Miz Kasia, have spare scented kerchief? Do not want to die with stench in nose."

Yoska Lash shrieks and tries to climb onto Tarq's chair like a backpack when the vessel shudders and the metal makes that tortured sound. "Aiyaahhh!" he wails, "CORR WHY!" This is his sole contribution to the operation until he brightens up and offers, "Ohh, does anyone want to buy a good luck charm? This is a very good time for a good luck charm! We're probably all about to die so really, no time better, what are you going to do with your money anyhow. Dr. Girlfriend? Good luck charm??" Said charms have appeared dangling from his fingers, slender red cords cleverly knotted into various patterns, with beads strung along them.

"Not me, I don't die in the desert. I have approximately one hundred-fifty kinsmen livin in the desert. I farkin love the desert." Netep blows a sigh through puffed cheeks and squints at the tiny porthole bubble she's facing, starboard side. "You would not survive if th--" What WAS that!?!?!? THERE WAS A BEEP!!!

Netep's gloves perceivably tighten on the joysticks, causing the coil of hydraulic tubing to unfurl and reflex, snaking around nothing but water.

THEN THERES A SCRAPE!!

Muri's visor acquires a foggy cloud in its center, comes and goes with the increased rate of her respiration. She is SO far from her deities, down here. Now's not a great time to die. If ever there was. "How bi--FRINK!" Her face collides with viewing bubble on the next bounce with a 'clink' as she strains to get a better look from her vantage point. "Yeah that's...that's somethin." She eases back into her seat and retracts the collection arm as far as it'll go, in toward the body of the sub.

Seconds later, there is a grip-studded palm full of credit chits and a piece of candy and half a tabac stick being offered over shoulder toward Yoska in exchange for a good luck charm. The last time she rolled her eyes at the Lash siblings' charms - Mai's lucky rock - she fell about thirty feet into an ice crevasse, so. Can't hurt, right?

Kasia cringes and grips the side of her seat with one hand as a shudder moves through the submersible, tense for a few moments after as though waiting for signs that they're taking on water. When she's not immediately drowning the grip on her seat relaxes. The request has her side-eyeing Tarq for a moment, but without a word she leans forward and slips a hand into the bag at her feet, producing a small blue square of cloth that she holds out to him by one corner. It has been pre-perfumed and is ready to go, she's been on these missions before and knows how fragrant they can sometimes get.

The beeps from the panel continue to increase in frequency as the creature moves closer, though there is suddenly competition in the cabin for the loudest noise after their largely peaceful outing prior to this. "We're all in the sub, if it's good luck for you it should count for the whole thing!" he yells back at Yoska, slapping at some of the flashing lights in the hopes of turning the alarms off. They do not turn off. 1100 meters.

In the rear viewing area, anyone inside the small transparent bubble can now see what's coming through the darkling waters for their little sub: a mammoth undulating creature, its long shape slowly solidifying into finer details as it writhes closer. A pair of massive grasping pincers are the main shape discernible through the fine cloud of silt and bubbles left by their passing.

Something amidships groans alarmingly, and then a bulkhead buckles in, setting off more lights. "What was THAT?" Corr's eyes are wide, now, and he stumbles out of the front into the middle of the sub to investigate. "Angle us up!" He stares at the kaleidoscope of flashing lights, some set next to buttons and switches, others just... flashing. "...we are not gonna get the deposit back on this."

Mandl's skilled, dispassionate demeanor quickly dissolves into frantic button-mashing as the warning-lights skip around, taunting them. *SMAK,* *SMAK.* "Accursed machine!"

"Go up, go down, make up your mind!" Nerys, though, only sassed with her mouth. She did not allow Fearless leader's indecision to sway her hands as they held firm on the course. or rather, as Nerys continued to try to steer them clear of the obvious obstacles and get them into some patch of water that the whatever it was creature could not reach them. And then, because she did not like for an offer to go unanswered, she freed a hand long enough to rap on the disc that was maglocked to her back, Bitty's lone eye winking as she woke, momentarily, "Got one right here, thanks." And then it was back to piloting. "Someone on that?" Nerys did not look back to see.

Tarq accepts the handkerchief from Kasia with a grateful nod and then - wraps it around his nose, squeezes to hold it in place, then rotates the swivel chair, swinging Yoska on the chair's back abruptly into Nerys's business. Then his hands fly over the buttons and toggles. "Is... uh... /are/ buttons to 'activate deflation failsafes'.

"Repressurization protocol... uh- look, words are large, not a sub-mariner, but can fix hull deformity before we die if find the right buttons - mostly. Find buttons, press them!" Tarq Najjic, tech support extraordinaire.

Yoska Lash is happy to hand Netep Muri a knotted charm in exchange for her handful of coins, tabac trinkets. It's actually quite well made, another one of those occasional glimpses one gets, hints that the Lashes could be useful, skilled people if they applied themselves to anything ever, which they never do. "Anyone else want a charm? A real actual charm?" Not that he's doubting Nerys's form of good luck charm. Well, yes, he is. "Nooooo offense, but that wasn't made with secret magics, ya feel? Secret Ryn magics." Like space meth.

"AIYAAHHH, ow, rude?!" Yoska protests when Tarq's incautious swivel flings him into Nerys. He collects himself and asks Tarq, "...Didn't I meet you in a bar once? Did I make fun of you in a bar? Or try to pick you up in a bar." Yoska's big golden eyes look upwards as though the list of people he's made fun of in bars is just over his head and slightly to the left. It's too long a list. He doesn't know. Despite impending death, he brightly suggests, "We should go out sometime! What are you doin later? If we don't die?"

Focus, Yoyo! He is, vaguely, somewhat, trying to press the right buttons and switches, of what he can reach. The general impression is that he is only, /only/ helping because sudden brutal implosion of watery death would cramp his charm selling game and his dating opportunities.

"WHO CARES ABOUT THE DEPOSIT!?!?!" Cap'n Muri is losing her cool. She is not okay - this is not okay - earlier today she was sharing a Firingi Spice Cake with her friendly, neighborhood Balosar psychologist, let's go back to that. Can we? No...

Is that a /tear/ shimmering behind the glare of a millionblinkingwarninglights across her faceshield? It might be. Netep is out of her seat, eyeing that inward bulge of bulkhead like it's a newly discovered zit four minutes before happy hour starts at her favorite pick-em-up dive. NOT TODAY

"Why is the ballast filling!? Is it compensating? Did we accidentally take of water in the right?" No, probably that sensor would've alerted first! "Okay. Okay there's gotta be a way to vent the ballast, yeah? Vent and repressurize. Balance out.." Tarq's named the way! And Yoyo's found switches? Netep eyes the charm still clutched in her hand. Okay.

There's a sudden shifting of the groans and creaks emanating around them - Muri can feel the change under her hands as she pushes against that little bulkhead bulge. Pressure issues in space are a 180 from their current predicament, but Muri knows a weakened infrastructure when she sees it. "S'gotta be a tool kit 'round here to reinforce..." And she starts prying at some access panels underfoot. A few tools ( mag-wrench, mini weld, epoxy-patches) get pulled out into a heap and there, tucked along the side of this maintenance hatch, is a tiny pair of switches with some shadowed labeling. Muri's helmet clunks against the narrow opening, lights activating to illuminated the space as she reads aloud "Vent...VENT! Venting ballast!" If she can reach it. She's lain on her left shoulder, arm curled up into the space and fingers groping awkwardly in unfamiliar terrain. "Aight, think I..." The switch is flipped. FOr better or worse.

This is the the first time Kasia has been in a submersible like this, which means she isn't exactly familiar with how it all works. She is a deft hand at flying and doing minor repairs on ships, and how different could this really be? Okay probably very different in a lot of ways, but using her misaligned expertise, intuition and probably a little bit of luck she's there helping to press buttons, and pull levers, maybe even flip a few switches here and there on panels that seem like they need attention. She twists around to look back at Muri as she mashes her helmet against the small hatch. "Let me know if you need any help." Not that she's small enough to get into cramped spaces, she's probably the worst pick for that among those currently present, but the offer of assistance is given anyway.

Miraculously, the switches sort of work, and the hull balloons slightly outwards where it had caved in, in much the same way a water bottle will if snapped back out after being dented. It's never quite the same, but it's almost like it didn't happen. It clearly did, and Muri's repairs are strapped across it like flextape on a water tank, but the lights have dimmed and maybe they'll make it out alive after all!

Except that the sea creature chasing them is closer than ever. Peeking back through the sub to the rear, the pincers on its head are now terrifyingly large, the head and long, serpentine body snaking through the water behind it far too close for comfort, a maw of needle-like teeth yawning wide.

The ballast filling and being promptly vented sends the sub first dipping and then abruptly lifting outside of Nerys's dedicated control, causing the ride to veer unexpectedly while she's trying to pilot them and tossing everyone not firmly planted in a seat lurchingly in the opposite direction as inertia holds them back.

"Grab a buddy!" Sage advice, as the ship began to rock upward. On the side of good, they are not now taking on water through an unfortunate tear in the submersible's hull. On the bad, the ship was now trying to shoot out of the water like a balloon, which was no good, no good at all. But Nerys was mostly on top of it, as she gripped the controls as if she intended to choke the life out of them as she fought the unexpected buoyancy of the ship as she tried to control their rise. Too quick and they would all end up with pressure sickness. "900 meters, 850, 800, 775, 700..." That seemed hopeful, right? And they were not now flying into the maw of some oversized space flounder. Ahead, through the viewscreen it was possible to see the ship shooting out of the chimneys, but all was not well, "Sea wall, right ahead, which way are we going? Up or through?"

Mandl, having learned their lesson about chasing errant alarms with their fists, takes a deep breath beneath their straps and attempts to blind their pursuer with another smooth tactical application of the spotlight! This they can do! Focus. Mathematics. Angles. Precisio-- aaand it's blind. "It's blind! Of kriffing course it's blind..."

Out of the chair and onto the deck (ships have decks, this is a ship, right?) spills Tarq He bounces off Yoska, who is off reaching in places humans cannot. His denim! It still bear the Lash odor forever. Off goes his perfumed good-luck-against-Yoska-stench charm from his nose, and he grabs it from the floor after a moment's hesitation. "Maybe is averse to sunlight, then, if used to - ugh - depths. Up! Up!" Going through a wall sounds bad.

Perhaps happily for everyone, Yoska is yeeted (yoten?) out of proximity of several people as he goes tumbling and wailing off his feet, rolled up into a little ball that only serves to propel him further rather than protect him. His jewelry jangles every time he hits a bulkhead. THUMP, jingle! THUD, jangle! Sad Ryn noises.

"DO NOT GO THROUGH THE WALL!" Muri climbs to her feet with fists full of tools just in time for things to go WHEEEEEEE! Fortunately, this void suit is meant to deal with unanticipated changes in gravity - it's definitely not her own grace that saves her. The boots clank down onto the deck plating and anchor her there in bowlegged stance to weather the abrupt shifting about of trajectory.

Which leaves her facing Kasia. A woman who appears cool and collected regardless of how hard the shav's hittin turbine.

"Here," Netep hands her a patch while she takes the other and presses into the former bulge with intention to overlap. "Just place these aaaand a little HEAT.." the welder is less messy than the arc-welding variety. It simply jets a very precise stream of heated air to spark that chemical reaction needed for materials to seal and bond together. Might as well be a hair dryer, really. Netep Muri wields it like a pro, or would, if that richocheting ball of Ryn hadn't pinged on collision course next time he struck bulkhead.

The two collide as messily as could be expected, Muri losing her grip on welder - it's up to Kasia now! - in exchange for Yoska tail and fistful o'dress. Her boots maintain their steadfastness while the rest of her crumples backward, tangled up in YOSKA. Itsy bitsy cocktail dress and....and whatever's underneath.

Fleas, mostly. Can they find their way inside a vac suit?

The sounds of Netep's lamentations keen shrilly over whatever warning klaxons might kick off next. Still, she's locked onto the fellow, unwilling to let him steamroll the rest of the crew. Her steamy GLARE drilling through her faceshiled into Yoska's armpit is suggesting he not enojy this too grandly.

A patch is offered to Kasia and she accepts it, placing it exactly where she's told and holding it in place while the little welder does its job of fastening the patch securely. Or starts to. Things get a little bit wild and things star flying. Luckily she's a substantial lady who isn't tossed around easily, so while others are yeeted, or yoten, or in Muri's case a yotee, she remains pretty firmly in place. The hand not patch holding is clinging to the edge of the hatch, so she's swaying at best, flinching back as tools go flyin. "Careful!" The cry is more reflex than useful advise in the situation. Once steady she reaches down to snatch up the little welder and resume the work of affixing the patch, which is luckily something she has experience in and is competent enough at doing to eventually get the job done.

Corr is yeeted and yeeted hard. The explorer is chucked directly into those readouts with gusto, cracking his head and staying down for a moment as he thinks about whether he wants to go home and rethink his life. Eventually he gets up again, rubbing his forehead, and joins the consensus. "Up, take us up."

Glancing back through the sub now reveals that the monster is CLOSE, jarringly close, and as the sub struggles higher through the ocean waters, the creature seems to slow somewhat, perhaps sensing the changes in pressure, the light shining on its eyeless face, the- the pincers clutching at the side of the sub! Metal shrieks as they scrabble for purchase along its sides, slipping off and smacking into the repulsor! The sub's upward momentum slows. Not a good sign.

Luckily, the pincer's momentum pokes the creature in its own face, and feeling the sting of embarrassment, it drifts back rather than immediately attacking further. The crew is now a mere several hundred meters below the surface, but the 'mersible is barely moving.

"It'll buff out!" Nerys was rallying the troops, you guys! As the woman kept her death's grip on the controls, trying to wiggle the submersible free of the creature's grabby little grab hands. Whether it was her effort or its own hubris that knocked them free, but they were free. They were not, however, making at progress at all, as the ship seemed to be flat our refusing to climb higher. It clearly wanted to die a watery death. "Looks like we've got some damage to the propulsion system," offered Nerys, who was the queen of the obvious today. "Just rub really hard and get us going again!"

"Creature is further away! Situation way better." Tarq reclaims his seat at the front, dusting off his jeans and then clapping twice. "Just need to get sub moving. Are doing great," Tarq tells the others with false conviction. "Has been honor - being stuck underwater - in such company, but will soon be safely - surfaced." His eyes flick to Yoska for a moment at the word 'honor'.

"Go, repair-team! Rah rah!" He has run out of inspirational rhetoric. You're lucky it's so tight and cramped in here or he might high-kick.

Fake it till you make it, guys.

The dulling whrrrrrrr of propulsion system fades under Muri's back and the fact that objects and bodies suddenly become fairly stable in a state of idle drift are cause for concern. She slowly detangles from the Lash on the floor. Slowly, in case he spontaneously starts to roll elsewhere. It's after she's picked herself off the deck that she sees IT. "WOAH!" Netep cries out, having really seen a closeup of their pursuer's ugly maw for the first time as it appears to back off. A little.

All thoughts initially geared toward repairs are refocused on another immediate need, seeing as how Mandl and Kasia appear to be handy enough with the fixings.

"Not keen on being any beasty's hors d'oeuvres today," she grumps, fumbling her way forward to the main control hub. "S'gotta be.." And there is. Located on the vertical face, between two of the forward facing seats, is a 'Repellent Systyem'. Clearly this is the fallback plan when local wildlife gets frisky. She wedges herself there between Nerys and Corr, and pokes around the little screen until some options pop up.

Electro-probe. Chem-deter. Why not both?

She selects both. "Specimens we collected so far are in an insulated tank, right?" Not that their status is going to impact her decision. Priority number one is to avoid anymore hull damage. So. "I'm buying us a little time for you folks to get our props back online! If you've a finger free to cross, do it."

ZAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAP an invisible pulse crackles through the water, emanating from the belly of their vessel at the same time that a trio of cannisters fire from aft, port, and starboard sides. They spin and flip several meters out before detonating noxious clouds of additional murk to cloud the...murk.

Kasia finishes one patch handily, and moves on to the second that overlaps it, using that small hand held torch to attach it. "I'm never keen on being hors d'oeuvres, and I just keep ending up in these situations. Not under the water though, that's a new element." She uses the sleeve of her new jacket to sweet sweat from her brow, leaving behind a faint smear of makeup that will probably never come out, but these are the risks when you live a life of adventure. "Okay, patches on," she says, clicking the small welder off so she doesn't accidentally burn anything or anyone, or put a hole through the side of the craft. That'd probably be bad.

Suitably dissuaded, the creature from the depths gives the sub one last lingering non-look (no eyes), and slithers off back to whence it came. The power flickers out momentarily when Muri engages the defense systems, but when it comes back online, so does the repulsor, letting Nerys command the vessel once more. "Looks like we're not getting anything special after all, except uh, the video feed of this thing attackin' us," Corr grouches as he jabs a finger towards the mammoth thing that almost used them to pick its teeth. "Take us up out of here and let's forget whose idea it was to go deeper. Next time we're going to a kriffing desert."

Another job... done!