In a bleary, smeary panic Hugh came to, breathless and deafened by the accelerometer warning horn blasting away as the Diplogen’s main impulse engines plowed the ship forward faster and faster. Something was very wrong and if not for the fact that Hugh’s advanced Biovatar military class body was able to absorb some oxygen through his skin he would be as dead as the rest of the crew who could not expand their chest cavity enough to even sip the smallest breath under the crushing force of the mounting acceleration. Sick from deuterium poisoning, the stench of emesis rank in the stale air he turns his tunnel visioned gaze to see outpost Charon rapidly approaching on the main navi screen. If he acts quickly he can bail his sled out in a lifeboat and just as he begins punching the command into his control panel he realizes that he is not alone in his own mind, someone else is guiding his fingers and using compiling shortcuts that he didn’t even know existed. The hailing alerts and proximity alarm signals ring out as the sled is flushed from the ship out into the jettisoning lifeboat on a dead level trajectory towards Charon’s Rydberg station, pulsing a brake burn, landing square in the middle of an emergency runaway lifeboat net as the Diplogen, pilotless and wildly out of control, rockets away.