Sablesword
06-15-2006, 01:43 AM
Hyperticklish Part 4
by Sablesword
A nap, a shower, and a bowl of old-fashioned hot-and-sour soup left Cecilia feeling mostly recovered when Dame Ming arrived to escort her to the Catalyst Room. Once again, she let her hands be bound behind her for the barefoot march through the ship.
When she sat in the couch, Sir Frank fastened her ankles in place in the energy stocks but left her hands free. He handed her a reader. "This will be a lazy watch, Your Highness. That last storm left us ahead of schedule, and with clear ether on the sensors. In fact, we should be coming out of hyper by midnight. So you'll only be called on occasionally this time - not for constant live mirth like you were last watch" He gave her right foot a quick tickle as he stepped back to his station.
As Sir Frank promised, this watch went by with very little tickling. Once or twice an hour he would have her place her hands in the upper stocks of the couch. One of the ticklebots would then take the reader, while the other tickled her feet for a minute or so. Then her hands would be released once more, the reader returned, and the 'bots deactivated.
Princess Cecilia found it difficult to concentrate on her reader after the first one-minute tickle. She couldn't put out of her mind the hope-fear-hope that Sir Frank would tell her to place her hands above her head again, in preparation for the 'bots activating for another session. When that second session did come, inflicting its involuntary giggles and squirming on her, she found that she could make herself relax afterwards by an act of will.
The last session of the watch was a bit longer, but Princess Cecilia caught herself feeling disappointed at its briefness. Don't be silly she told herself as Frank released her from the couch and bound her hands behind her once more for the trip back to her prison-cabin.
"We'll be coming out of hyper later tonight, or early tomorrow," Frank told her just before he locked her in her cabin. "You'll have a two-day break before we start dragging you back to the Catalyst Room again."
And so it proved. The next day Cecilia spent locked in her cabin, as the crew of the Merryweather took care of all the little maintenance jobs that had been delayed while the ship was in hyper. That evening, however, Sir Frank and Dame Ming let her out for an exercise session, and the next morning Dame May brought her a set of exercise clothing. This all-white outfit consisted of a comfortably-soft long-sleeved shirt, and pair of pants, a new restraint belt - and a pair of flat-soled shoes. "At least they're not orange," Cecilia said as she pulled them on.
"Don't get any ideas," Dame May warned. She gestured, and Cecilia obediently placed her hands behind her back for binding and let herself be escorted down the corridor.
"Ideas?" the princess asked, all wide-eyed innocence.
Dame May snorted in amusement. "Get that gleam out of your eye. We're in deep space, and we're not letting you run around without precautions. For example, those shoes don't just seal, they lock."
"They do?"
"Try them." Dame May stepped back and used her remote to release Cecilia's wrists. The princess bent down and tested the shoe-straps.
"They do!"
"They work on the same principal as your restraint belt," Dame May explained. "They also have an anti-tamper mechanism, so don't fiddle with them too much. In fact, your whole outfit there is laced with security systems. You won't want to tick off any of your keepers or leave the gym without permission. Well," she amended, "You might want to, but you won't get very far."
"Why not, Dame May?" Cecilia asked politely.
A new voice spoke from the hatchway. "Because of this." Sir Kurt pointed his own remote at Princess Cecilia and pressed a button.
Cecilia found herself floating, the Merryweather's artificial gravity no longer affecting her. And then she felt a thousand electric feathers race across the soles of her feet. She shrieked and giggled at this new tickling, one that was less rounded and sharper than that inflicted by a purely physical touch. Kicking and twisting in mid-air, she found her struggles did not affect the tickling in the slightest. It stopped only when Sir Kurt pressed his remote again.
"You shouldn't waste mirth like that," Dame May chided her husband. Cecilia drifted down to the deck as the ship's artificial gravity slowly took hold once more. She lay there, gasping more in shock than breathlessness, and listened to Sir Kurt's answer:
"She had to know. Better she find out now than the first time she tries a real caper." He looked down on her. "So you see, Your Highness, you had better behave yourself. You'll be good now, right?"
"I'll be good, Sir Kurt," Princess Cecilia said. She took his offered hand, and stood up with its help.
Dame May frowned at her. "You're going to try something, if only to test the system."
"So what if she does?" Sir Kurt asked.
"It wastes mirth."
"So what if it does?" he echoed himself. "We can afford to spill a little mirth. Especially since Her Highness here is an extra supply in the first place. I'll watch over her so you can get in your own aerobics - and that way it won't be your fault if we waste a little mirth." He then turned and gave Cecilia a slight bow. "As for you, Your Highness, I recommend starting with the elliptical."
It was a good workout, Cecilia admitted to herself. The equipment was hardly up to royal standards, but it functioned well enough. It felt good to stretch, and work out kinks, to shed some sweat and draw some fatigue in a way that didn't involve squirming under the feather. That would return soon enough. Sir Kurt and Dame May both spoke of the jump to hyper scheduled for just past noon tomorrow, the second jump of this journey. Cecilia herself would of course be strapped down in the Catalyst Room for this.
In the meantime, Sir Kurt watched Princess Cecilia closely as she went through her exercise period. She considered the ploy of not resisting when the time came for him to escort her back to her cabin. It was a million-to-one against her getting more than five meters before he stopped her. But on the other hand, he'd be disappointed if she didn't try. For that matter, she'd be disappointed too: If she surrendered meekly, her chances of getting away were exactly zero, and sometimes million-to-one shots paid off.
Thus when the exercise period ended, and Cecilia had finished the cool-down, she made a sudden dash down the corridor. Or started to, anyway. The million-to-one odds didn't pay off this time, and Cecilia found herself floating. She looked down at the deck, floating in the air for a full second before the electric feathers struck.
They were an illusion, of course. Virtual feathers. Neural stimulators sandwiched in the soles of her exercise shoes performed the actual tickling. It just felt like a thousand electric feathers racing madly up and down her soles. Across her insteps. Over her heels and the balls of her feet and the pads of her toes. And between her toes. Every square millimeter of skin received its dose of tickling. Nor was there any escape, no matter how hard she kicked or twisted or pulled at her shoes. The shoes could not be removed; the tickling could not be avoided. What's more, Sir Kurt didn't release her after a few seconds - not this time. She was vaguely aware of Dame May's protesting at the waste of mirth as Sir Kurt lassoed her and towed her like a writhing, giggling balloon back to her cabin.
"You were warned, Your Highness," Sir Kurt said when the tickling ended at last and she sank to the deck of her cabin.
"Yes I was, Sir Kurt," she admitted, sitting on the deck looking up at him. He triggered the release code, and she pulled the shoes off. Her servebot took them and delivered them to Sir Kurt. "It wasn't bad," she told him. "They gave the same ratio as the Catalyst Room."
"The ideal ratio of ten-to-one, you mean?"
"Yes. The shoes were very close to ten-to-one. It's just that they were... were..."
"A shock?"
"Exactly. A shock."
A slow smile spread over Sir Kurt's face. "Well then, Your Highness. Maybe you won't mind going barefoot again for a while." The smile broadened. "It's not like you have a choice."
"No, but I could wish for some shoes without those security devices built in, Sir Kurt."
"I'm afraid not, Your Highness. We'll be making the second jump tomorrow, and you'll be needed in the Catalyst Room. Until then, amuse yourself." He stepped out the door, and Princess Cecilia could hear the lock engage.
#
Early the next afternoon, Princess Cecilia entered the Catalyst Room barefoot once more, wearing the orange prisoner-outfit, and with her hands bound behind her. Dame May delivered her to Sir Frank, and the two crewmembers placed her in the center couch. Once the energy-stocks were activated, the first mate gave Sir Frank and Princess Cecilia a cordial nod and left.
Sir Frank activated a pair of ticklebots and took his station. The Merryweather had entered hyper a little over an hour ago, the engines catalyzed by canned laughter. Now Cecilia watched as the ticklebots rose and positioned themselves by her bare feet, and extended wiggling manipulators to recharge the cans. The furry tickle-tips made contact with the soles held helpless before them, and Cecilia began to giggle and squirm. "General Announcement, Catalyst Room," she heard Sir Frank say. "We have live mirth."
The tickling continued. Cecilia's squirming and laughter continued. It was a pure foot-tickling this time, with one 'bot concentrating on each sole. The sensations produced were familiar; almost comforting in their physicality, even though they made her squeak and twist. Up and down, back and forth, round and round in a semi-random pattern that forced mirth from her to be collected and sent to the engine room.
After a time, the tickling paused, with the 'bots drawing back and going on standby but not deactivating. Sir Frank stood. "The cans are full now, Your Highness, so you can take a break. I'll get you a reader again, if you li-"
His last word was chopped in half by the sudden hooting of an alarm. He sat back down abruptly, peering intently at the workstation display. Cecilia saw him mouth bad words. His fingers stabbed down and the two ticklebots surged forward again. This time their tickling was frenzied, and Cecilia exploded with laughter. "Hahahaheheeheeheehee! Oh heeheeheeheehahaha!"
And in the background Diane, the Merryweather's computer voice, announced "Emergency. Can rupture. Emergency. Engine Failure Sixty Percent. Emergency. Can rupture..."
"Ming!" Sir Frank called into the comm. "Beat feet to the Catalyst Room!"
"General announcement, Bridge," the captain's voice came out of the air. "Ming, May, both of you get to the Catalyst Room. We're going to need three feeds of live mirth. Frank, do your best until they get there."
"Aye-aye Captain!" Sir Frank shouted, still furiously working his keyboard. Cecilia felt the energy stocks holding her ankles shift. Now they grabbed her toes as well. Before they were able to clench and squirm, even if they were too far apart to cover each other. But with this new configuration, they were held rigidly in place, toes spread for maximum vulnerability to the 'bots tickle implements. I didn't know the stocks could do that. Cecilia though.
Then the wave of tickling hit, washing over soles that seemed to grow to twice their normal size and three times their normal sensitivity. Tears ran down her cheeks as the laughter poured out of her. The tickling continued to inflict one part agony for every ten parts pleasure, but this time the tickle implements spun and wiggled and twisted with implacable vigor. They ran over her soles and between her toes, up and down from her heels to her insteps and the balls of her feet and the pads of her toes. And back and forth, across her soles as well. "Heeheehahahaha oh hahahaheeheheheeheeheeeeee!" Cecilia laughed, eyes screwed shut, squirming in her bonds.
More male shouts, unintelligible over her own giggling. Then a badly needed rest break. Cecilia gasped for breath, and finally noticed the two women strapped into couches on either side. Dame Ming was to her right, giggling wildly as a 'bot feathered her feet and another pair wiggled rubbery fingers over her nude upper body. To Cecilia's left, Dame May shuddered and squirmed, giving out little squeaking noises as two bots ran rotating brushes over her soles and a third applied a feathery touch in and around her belly button.
And now Sir Frank was pulling off her blouse, leaving her topless and exposed to a third tickle bot that hovered over her. The two by her feet rose and advanced once more, and the tickling began anew.
It lasted for hours - and seemed to last for eons. The Catalyst Room was filled with the giggles and shrieks of laughter from the three women, except for the all-too-brief rest periods when two of the women howled with mirth while the third gasped for breath. Each woman had three ticklebots attending to her, applying dozens of implements in patterns mathematically designed to drive her wild. The 'bots tickling Cecilia alternated their focus: One would apply an upper-body tickling - ribs and belly and around and around her breasts - while the other two would apply lazy gentle strokes to her soles. Then the focus would shift: The belly-bot would give lazy strokes around her belly-button while the two 'bots at her feet applied themselves so as to make Cecilia feel as if ninety percent of her being was in her soles - and that it was all being tickled unbearably. Not agonizingly - the ten to one pleasure to torment ratio still held even under these extreme circumstances - but with such intensity that Cecilia was sure she had temporarily lost her sanity.
Even so, the relentless ticklebots weren't enough. Sir Frank came around to apply the occasional human touch. Here he would tickle an instep. There he would wiggle fingers up and down helpless torsos. Elsewhere he would gently tease an exposed belly. Thus it was that pairs of feminine eyes would occasionally open wide in shock, taking in Sir Frank's application of his own tickling style in addition to what the ticklebots were doing to the helpless feminine bodies.
Sir Frank was applying a bit of silk to the soles of Princess Cecilia's feet when the Merryweather emerged into normal space. "Ooooh heeeheeheehee," she giggled, unable to do more than twitch weakly after hours of tickling, but still responding to the soft tickle-touch on her helpless soles. Still feeding much needed mirth into the failing engines. He picked up a feather, but before he could apply it a single word ended the desperate triple-tickle session.
"Emergence," Captain Manning's voice announced. The Merryweather had survived, and was now back in normal space.
End of Part 4
by Sablesword
A nap, a shower, and a bowl of old-fashioned hot-and-sour soup left Cecilia feeling mostly recovered when Dame Ming arrived to escort her to the Catalyst Room. Once again, she let her hands be bound behind her for the barefoot march through the ship.
When she sat in the couch, Sir Frank fastened her ankles in place in the energy stocks but left her hands free. He handed her a reader. "This will be a lazy watch, Your Highness. That last storm left us ahead of schedule, and with clear ether on the sensors. In fact, we should be coming out of hyper by midnight. So you'll only be called on occasionally this time - not for constant live mirth like you were last watch" He gave her right foot a quick tickle as he stepped back to his station.
As Sir Frank promised, this watch went by with very little tickling. Once or twice an hour he would have her place her hands in the upper stocks of the couch. One of the ticklebots would then take the reader, while the other tickled her feet for a minute or so. Then her hands would be released once more, the reader returned, and the 'bots deactivated.
Princess Cecilia found it difficult to concentrate on her reader after the first one-minute tickle. She couldn't put out of her mind the hope-fear-hope that Sir Frank would tell her to place her hands above her head again, in preparation for the 'bots activating for another session. When that second session did come, inflicting its involuntary giggles and squirming on her, she found that she could make herself relax afterwards by an act of will.
The last session of the watch was a bit longer, but Princess Cecilia caught herself feeling disappointed at its briefness. Don't be silly she told herself as Frank released her from the couch and bound her hands behind her once more for the trip back to her prison-cabin.
"We'll be coming out of hyper later tonight, or early tomorrow," Frank told her just before he locked her in her cabin. "You'll have a two-day break before we start dragging you back to the Catalyst Room again."
And so it proved. The next day Cecilia spent locked in her cabin, as the crew of the Merryweather took care of all the little maintenance jobs that had been delayed while the ship was in hyper. That evening, however, Sir Frank and Dame Ming let her out for an exercise session, and the next morning Dame May brought her a set of exercise clothing. This all-white outfit consisted of a comfortably-soft long-sleeved shirt, and pair of pants, a new restraint belt - and a pair of flat-soled shoes. "At least they're not orange," Cecilia said as she pulled them on.
"Don't get any ideas," Dame May warned. She gestured, and Cecilia obediently placed her hands behind her back for binding and let herself be escorted down the corridor.
"Ideas?" the princess asked, all wide-eyed innocence.
Dame May snorted in amusement. "Get that gleam out of your eye. We're in deep space, and we're not letting you run around without precautions. For example, those shoes don't just seal, they lock."
"They do?"
"Try them." Dame May stepped back and used her remote to release Cecilia's wrists. The princess bent down and tested the shoe-straps.
"They do!"
"They work on the same principal as your restraint belt," Dame May explained. "They also have an anti-tamper mechanism, so don't fiddle with them too much. In fact, your whole outfit there is laced with security systems. You won't want to tick off any of your keepers or leave the gym without permission. Well," she amended, "You might want to, but you won't get very far."
"Why not, Dame May?" Cecilia asked politely.
A new voice spoke from the hatchway. "Because of this." Sir Kurt pointed his own remote at Princess Cecilia and pressed a button.
Cecilia found herself floating, the Merryweather's artificial gravity no longer affecting her. And then she felt a thousand electric feathers race across the soles of her feet. She shrieked and giggled at this new tickling, one that was less rounded and sharper than that inflicted by a purely physical touch. Kicking and twisting in mid-air, she found her struggles did not affect the tickling in the slightest. It stopped only when Sir Kurt pressed his remote again.
"You shouldn't waste mirth like that," Dame May chided her husband. Cecilia drifted down to the deck as the ship's artificial gravity slowly took hold once more. She lay there, gasping more in shock than breathlessness, and listened to Sir Kurt's answer:
"She had to know. Better she find out now than the first time she tries a real caper." He looked down on her. "So you see, Your Highness, you had better behave yourself. You'll be good now, right?"
"I'll be good, Sir Kurt," Princess Cecilia said. She took his offered hand, and stood up with its help.
Dame May frowned at her. "You're going to try something, if only to test the system."
"So what if she does?" Sir Kurt asked.
"It wastes mirth."
"So what if it does?" he echoed himself. "We can afford to spill a little mirth. Especially since Her Highness here is an extra supply in the first place. I'll watch over her so you can get in your own aerobics - and that way it won't be your fault if we waste a little mirth." He then turned and gave Cecilia a slight bow. "As for you, Your Highness, I recommend starting with the elliptical."
It was a good workout, Cecilia admitted to herself. The equipment was hardly up to royal standards, but it functioned well enough. It felt good to stretch, and work out kinks, to shed some sweat and draw some fatigue in a way that didn't involve squirming under the feather. That would return soon enough. Sir Kurt and Dame May both spoke of the jump to hyper scheduled for just past noon tomorrow, the second jump of this journey. Cecilia herself would of course be strapped down in the Catalyst Room for this.
In the meantime, Sir Kurt watched Princess Cecilia closely as she went through her exercise period. She considered the ploy of not resisting when the time came for him to escort her back to her cabin. It was a million-to-one against her getting more than five meters before he stopped her. But on the other hand, he'd be disappointed if she didn't try. For that matter, she'd be disappointed too: If she surrendered meekly, her chances of getting away were exactly zero, and sometimes million-to-one shots paid off.
Thus when the exercise period ended, and Cecilia had finished the cool-down, she made a sudden dash down the corridor. Or started to, anyway. The million-to-one odds didn't pay off this time, and Cecilia found herself floating. She looked down at the deck, floating in the air for a full second before the electric feathers struck.
They were an illusion, of course. Virtual feathers. Neural stimulators sandwiched in the soles of her exercise shoes performed the actual tickling. It just felt like a thousand electric feathers racing madly up and down her soles. Across her insteps. Over her heels and the balls of her feet and the pads of her toes. And between her toes. Every square millimeter of skin received its dose of tickling. Nor was there any escape, no matter how hard she kicked or twisted or pulled at her shoes. The shoes could not be removed; the tickling could not be avoided. What's more, Sir Kurt didn't release her after a few seconds - not this time. She was vaguely aware of Dame May's protesting at the waste of mirth as Sir Kurt lassoed her and towed her like a writhing, giggling balloon back to her cabin.
"You were warned, Your Highness," Sir Kurt said when the tickling ended at last and she sank to the deck of her cabin.
"Yes I was, Sir Kurt," she admitted, sitting on the deck looking up at him. He triggered the release code, and she pulled the shoes off. Her servebot took them and delivered them to Sir Kurt. "It wasn't bad," she told him. "They gave the same ratio as the Catalyst Room."
"The ideal ratio of ten-to-one, you mean?"
"Yes. The shoes were very close to ten-to-one. It's just that they were... were..."
"A shock?"
"Exactly. A shock."
A slow smile spread over Sir Kurt's face. "Well then, Your Highness. Maybe you won't mind going barefoot again for a while." The smile broadened. "It's not like you have a choice."
"No, but I could wish for some shoes without those security devices built in, Sir Kurt."
"I'm afraid not, Your Highness. We'll be making the second jump tomorrow, and you'll be needed in the Catalyst Room. Until then, amuse yourself." He stepped out the door, and Princess Cecilia could hear the lock engage.
#
Early the next afternoon, Princess Cecilia entered the Catalyst Room barefoot once more, wearing the orange prisoner-outfit, and with her hands bound behind her. Dame May delivered her to Sir Frank, and the two crewmembers placed her in the center couch. Once the energy-stocks were activated, the first mate gave Sir Frank and Princess Cecilia a cordial nod and left.
Sir Frank activated a pair of ticklebots and took his station. The Merryweather had entered hyper a little over an hour ago, the engines catalyzed by canned laughter. Now Cecilia watched as the ticklebots rose and positioned themselves by her bare feet, and extended wiggling manipulators to recharge the cans. The furry tickle-tips made contact with the soles held helpless before them, and Cecilia began to giggle and squirm. "General Announcement, Catalyst Room," she heard Sir Frank say. "We have live mirth."
The tickling continued. Cecilia's squirming and laughter continued. It was a pure foot-tickling this time, with one 'bot concentrating on each sole. The sensations produced were familiar; almost comforting in their physicality, even though they made her squeak and twist. Up and down, back and forth, round and round in a semi-random pattern that forced mirth from her to be collected and sent to the engine room.
After a time, the tickling paused, with the 'bots drawing back and going on standby but not deactivating. Sir Frank stood. "The cans are full now, Your Highness, so you can take a break. I'll get you a reader again, if you li-"
His last word was chopped in half by the sudden hooting of an alarm. He sat back down abruptly, peering intently at the workstation display. Cecilia saw him mouth bad words. His fingers stabbed down and the two ticklebots surged forward again. This time their tickling was frenzied, and Cecilia exploded with laughter. "Hahahaheheeheeheehee! Oh heeheeheeheehahaha!"
And in the background Diane, the Merryweather's computer voice, announced "Emergency. Can rupture. Emergency. Engine Failure Sixty Percent. Emergency. Can rupture..."
"Ming!" Sir Frank called into the comm. "Beat feet to the Catalyst Room!"
"General announcement, Bridge," the captain's voice came out of the air. "Ming, May, both of you get to the Catalyst Room. We're going to need three feeds of live mirth. Frank, do your best until they get there."
"Aye-aye Captain!" Sir Frank shouted, still furiously working his keyboard. Cecilia felt the energy stocks holding her ankles shift. Now they grabbed her toes as well. Before they were able to clench and squirm, even if they were too far apart to cover each other. But with this new configuration, they were held rigidly in place, toes spread for maximum vulnerability to the 'bots tickle implements. I didn't know the stocks could do that. Cecilia though.
Then the wave of tickling hit, washing over soles that seemed to grow to twice their normal size and three times their normal sensitivity. Tears ran down her cheeks as the laughter poured out of her. The tickling continued to inflict one part agony for every ten parts pleasure, but this time the tickle implements spun and wiggled and twisted with implacable vigor. They ran over her soles and between her toes, up and down from her heels to her insteps and the balls of her feet and the pads of her toes. And back and forth, across her soles as well. "Heeheehahahaha oh hahahaheeheheheeheeheeeeee!" Cecilia laughed, eyes screwed shut, squirming in her bonds.
More male shouts, unintelligible over her own giggling. Then a badly needed rest break. Cecilia gasped for breath, and finally noticed the two women strapped into couches on either side. Dame Ming was to her right, giggling wildly as a 'bot feathered her feet and another pair wiggled rubbery fingers over her nude upper body. To Cecilia's left, Dame May shuddered and squirmed, giving out little squeaking noises as two bots ran rotating brushes over her soles and a third applied a feathery touch in and around her belly button.
And now Sir Frank was pulling off her blouse, leaving her topless and exposed to a third tickle bot that hovered over her. The two by her feet rose and advanced once more, and the tickling began anew.
It lasted for hours - and seemed to last for eons. The Catalyst Room was filled with the giggles and shrieks of laughter from the three women, except for the all-too-brief rest periods when two of the women howled with mirth while the third gasped for breath. Each woman had three ticklebots attending to her, applying dozens of implements in patterns mathematically designed to drive her wild. The 'bots tickling Cecilia alternated their focus: One would apply an upper-body tickling - ribs and belly and around and around her breasts - while the other two would apply lazy gentle strokes to her soles. Then the focus would shift: The belly-bot would give lazy strokes around her belly-button while the two 'bots at her feet applied themselves so as to make Cecilia feel as if ninety percent of her being was in her soles - and that it was all being tickled unbearably. Not agonizingly - the ten to one pleasure to torment ratio still held even under these extreme circumstances - but with such intensity that Cecilia was sure she had temporarily lost her sanity.
Even so, the relentless ticklebots weren't enough. Sir Frank came around to apply the occasional human touch. Here he would tickle an instep. There he would wiggle fingers up and down helpless torsos. Elsewhere he would gently tease an exposed belly. Thus it was that pairs of feminine eyes would occasionally open wide in shock, taking in Sir Frank's application of his own tickling style in addition to what the ticklebots were doing to the helpless feminine bodies.
Sir Frank was applying a bit of silk to the soles of Princess Cecilia's feet when the Merryweather emerged into normal space. "Ooooh heeeheeheehee," she giggled, unable to do more than twitch weakly after hours of tickling, but still responding to the soft tickle-touch on her helpless soles. Still feeding much needed mirth into the failing engines. He picked up a feather, but before he could apply it a single word ended the desperate triple-tickle session.
"Emergence," Captain Manning's voice announced. The Merryweather had survived, and was now back in normal space.
End of Part 4