'As before, sir, none whatsoever,' the Choir-Master confirmed, 'and an additional message will take more time to send out.' She'd been leading the choir in the process of distress signalling for most of those two days - "We are in peril, unknown enemies pursuing our ship, send assistance immediately", roughly encrypted as follows: [i]A tide of teeth pursues a lone grox across an empty plain, attempting to devour it. It is destroyed by a solid projectile rifle from a distance, a flurry of shots shattering the teeth and allowing the grox to turn and slay what lies underneath.[/i] Well, she suspected they could destroy this unknown foe with support. The problem was getting the support, if it was even forthcoming - and since the message took several hours to even contemplate, let alone properly encrypt, they had broadcast a grand total of four actual distress signals so far. Which, granted, was a great deal better than most astropaths could pull off in just two days, helped by the fact that the actual content remained similar from projection to projection, but came at the cost of physical exhaustion and sleep deprivation even beyond the usual for her and the rest of the choir.

And it wasn't as if she hadn't tried to find life elsewhere. But, within so many Void Units, there was just theirs and the pursuing ship, and its strange xeno minds. She had yet to establish what those were, only that they lacked humanity - but then that was obvious by the ship's actual design. And whilst she had the theoretical option to insinuate fear into the attackers or make their ship appear to be in many places at once, with great effort on her and the choir's part of course, those only really mattered if and when the ship started firing at them again. Maybe she should start practicing her telekinetic abilities to try and break something on the other ship... or figure out how to convey Voidfrost across as vast a distance as its nature implied.

Still, she [i]had[/i] the option of enfearing them if they attempted to invade, or empowering the crew if they boarded back, or even trying to make an enemy gunner aim incorrectly if they began firing again. For now, she and her choir could only continue the process of contemplation anew - and she had to ensure her choir remained healthy, as well. If anyone burned out, it was on her head; she knew very well the agony of burnout and how it aged its victims, and she was quite intent on keeping the Rogue Traders' in good health for a long time.