Cyne shot a sickly glare towards Gerad, leaning against the inner framework of the [i]Crimson Fang[/i], [color=00746b]"My stomach disagrees..."[/color] 

Gerad however wasn't wrong though; they were so very close from becoming stranded due in part by the neutrino wave were it not for the last second jump. Had the moment been any longer, they probably would have been at the mercy of cosmic forces around them. If not that, then the remnants of the SSA and the KOT would be upon them for sure. Thankfully in the end, it was their head start against the other mercenary vessels, more so with the artificial singularity, that was enough to keep them out of death's grasps or in a confinement cell.

With an amalgamate of effects from dense neutrinos and rough vertigo plaguing him, no thanks in part with their frantic and rushed docking within the [i]Legion's End[/i], Cyne struggled to bring himself to his feet. His suit's exo mechanisms compensated for his erratic movement as he lurched forward and caught hold of one of the railings and leaned into it, trying to fight off the daze. He didn't know how Garundin or Fungai responded to the same abuse but he knew it would be minutes before his body would naturally adapt and eventually recuperate.

Hours later, having rid himself of his suit, bathed, and donning is casual fatigues, Cyne was once more in the bridge helming communications. While they were now hundreds if not thousands of light-years away from Poseidon's Belt, some chatter could be picked up from numerous relays and outbound transmissions. The broadcasts were barely what one would consider quality and not at all surprising, given they were in FTL transit. Nevertheless, he was able to at least piece together the events that transpired after they booked-it out of the system.

The moment Gerad's device went off, it had gathered the attention of everyone in the system. Fighting between the SSA and KOT forces immediately ceased with an apparent understanding coming together between the two factions. Everyone else uninvited were wise to leave rather than dealing with two larger parties whom were in mutual agreement. The details became sparser but it seemed that an investigation regarding the [i]Balrog[/i]'s complete destruction had taken place afterwards. Cyne leaned back into his seat and rubbed his eyes between his right hand's index finger and thumb. The dwindling facts and reports eventually evaporated as the ship finally came out of range where it's subspace transmitter could no longer pick up outgoing transmissions. 

Cyne continued to lean back and stare at the ceiling. Their debrief was, unsurprisingly disappointing. What was originally believed to be a huge paycheck in their laps turned out be less than half than the crew were looking towards. Selling of Macklyn's ship and their loot of weapons would guarantee their income, it simply wasn't the same than what everyone had been preparing for. All the mental and psychical preparation that went into such a mission seemed devalued although there was no doubt it was that same preparation that got them off the [i]Balrog[/i] in one piece. There was that positive at least.