"I don't know," Gerrard replied. "I don't know."

Orim stood on the poop deck, gazing aft. She had clambered topside in hopes of dragging Hanna from her post. The impossibility of that quest was soon clear. The impossibility of this battle was clear as well.

"Bring us about," Gerrard's voice came sullenly through the tubes. "There must be something we're missing."

Orim shook her head in empathy. She had repeated those same words countless times as she stared at the rot that was killing Hanna. There must be something I'm missing.

It was Orim's own impossible battle. Without Hanna, how would the ship find her way? How would Orim and Sisay find their way? And Gerrard- he would be utterly lost.

Already, they were lost. The ship roared out above Llanowar, trailing its faithful fleet close behind. They cruised above the field of portals. Not a gun woke fire on those devices. They seemed to form a placid and illimitable sea.

Water. It triggered memories of a far-off place-of Cho-Manno, the Cho-Arrim, and their water magic. When she had left her beloved, she had sworn to take the power of the waters with her. Orim gazed at the shimmering portals. How could she find power in such black waters? If only she could meditate, could draw from the reservoirs within her, perhaps she could find a cure to this plague.

Orim gazed down in desolation on the portals.

Weatherlight stirred a strong, long wake in the portals.

Suddenly, Orim knew. It was a simple thing, the sort of thing Hanna and Sisay would understand implicitly.

Spinning on her heels, Orim rushed to the bridge door. She flung it back and descended.

The cramped room buzzed with activity. Gerrard had arrived on the bridge to consult with Sisay at the helm. Reports poured out the speaking tubes that blossomed here and there: The metallic voice of Karn asked for attack status; the signal officer relayed other ships' queries. Ensigns scrambled up through the lower hatch and back.

Hanna was busiest of all. She worked feverishly at her navigation console. The compass and stylus that walked across a chart of Llanowar dragged telltale lines of red in their wake. Her fingers were knotted in crimson where she clutched her belly wound.

Orim's breath caught at the sight. Blood did not bother her. Its implications did-especially these implications.

Rushing to Hanna's station, Orim knelt, grabbing her friend's arm.

"Hanna, you have to get below-"

"I can't," she snapped, her voice more exhausted than annoyed.

"You can, once we get rid of those portals."

"Get rid of-"

"We couldn't planeshift to Benalia because of the three portals over it. You said they caused spacio-temporal distortions that shunted us to the side."

"Yes, but what does all this-"

"Our own shift envelope is much stronger than any of these. Even at normal speeds, we leave a wake in the portals below. If we were to-"

"Yes," Hanna said. Despite the horrible pallor of her face, a brief and beautiful flush came to her cheeks. "Sisay! Captain! Take us up!"

Without question, Sisay drew back on the helm. Weatherlight responded as though the ship were her own body. Even Karn ceased his questions below, seeming to understand.

Only Gerrard was caught off-guard. He went to one knee and spilled against the bridge stanchions. His face smashed against the bulwark.

Jiggling his head, Gerrard growled out, "What is it? Danger?"

Hanna laughed dryly, "Only for the Phyrexians."

Standing placidly at the helm, Sisay shouted over her shoulder. "What's your plan, Hanna?"

"A nosedive," the navigator returned, "right through the portal sea. We'll see how many we can drag away in our slipstream."

A grin lit Sisay's face. "I like it! Gerrard, you'd better call off the fleet. Tell them to circle and wait for our return."

Clawing his way forward, Gerrard rubbed a lump under his beard. "Wait a minute. What are you three planning?"

"Just the salvation of Llanowar," Sisay said lightly. "More power, Karn." She steered the ship into a nearvertical climb. The air grew thin all around. Clouds dragged away from Weatherlight's raked airfoils. "You asked for suggestions."

With a rueful nod, Gerrard clutched the speaking tubes and barked, "Signal the fleet! Tell them to circle until further orders!"

"That's a dear," Sisay said. "Hanna, how's our position?"

Peering through the sight arrays that jutted above her navigation desk, Hanna replied, "Yaw four degrees port, and let the keel cut for another thousand feet, and we'll be ready for the dive."

"Will we have the velocity for a shift?" Sisay asked.

"Velocity won't be the problem. It's whether we've got time between the portals and the treetops before we crash," Hanna replied easily.

Sisay laughed. "That's the kind of problem I like. Here we go." She shoved the helm hard to fore.

Weatherlight's engines ceased for a moment. She lolled upward in a weightless arc, rolling her stern skyward. Dominaria swept smoothly from aft to fore.

Squee, still strapped to the stern gun, squealed as his feet swept out toward the sun.

Then, greedy and inexorable, Dominaria grasped Weatherlight and yanked her down. Creaks ran stem to stern. The prow seemed to stretch away from amidships, and it from bridge and spankers. The airfoils folded tight along the centerline, spilling air instead of grabbing it. Weatherlight plunged.

Squee was still squealing. Even so, his view of the skies was not as terrifying as everyone else's view of the land. Llanowar seemed a leopard, crouched to spring.

Weatherlight's engines engaged. Intakes dragged a deep breath. A white-hot column of energy formed within the engine. Fire burst from exhausts. To the ship's terminal velocity came impatient force, ramming it down.

Llanowar sprung. The forest roared up to swallow the ship. Its rot-black treetops groped into the sky. The sea of portals seemed only a slim membrane above that reaching place. In moments, Weatherlight would punch through the portals and into the tree-tops.

"Shift to where?" Sisay shouted over the roar of the engines.

"The course is laid in," Hanna called back. "A place in need of Phyrexian bombs."

There was no more time. Weatherlight impacted the plane of portals. They swept from prow to poop in a heartbeat. Spacio-temporal stresses clawed across the deck. Bombs, half-emerged, hung in countless portals, too slow to catch up with Weatherlight. Squee and the folded wings cleared the portals.

"Shift!" Sisay shouted, staring at the ground as it soared up to meet them.

The ship hurtled all the faster. Wind tore at her rails. The black treetops resolved into individual boughs, and the ruined houses on those boughs, and the running figures among them. A jump-envelope welled out from the forespar. It swept a wide wake, encompassing thousands of portals.

"Shift!" Sisay shouted once last.

An enormous bough rushed up to smash through Weatherlight's windscreen-except that no bough remained. Black and green had given way to jittering gray.

Beyond the ship's rail, the envelope rattled. It held back the hissing, glaring emptiness between the worlds. Chaos churned and spun. Nightmare forms reared their heads out of darkness and dissolved again before they were fully created. Lines jagged away in recursive ribbons. There seemed no more horrible place in all the multiverse…

Until chaos transformed at last, solidifying into tortuous Rath.

Overhead, red clouds roiled like boiling blood. Below, red rills coiled like flayed muscle. Arrayed all across those hellish hills were army after army of Phyrexians, waiting to invade.