Holding Galley's hand while he was navigating lumpy space was a mistake. You knew that even as you did it. He seemed to find the steadying touch helpful, so you did it anyway. You didn't know what the consequences might be, but you were willing to take them for the sake of your matesprit and your ship. In retrospect, it's possible you lacked imagination. Even before your vision clears, you know you're not on the Sunslammer anymore. The smells, the air movement, even the gravity -- you're downwell, and if not on Alternia, then somewhere that's been terraformed to be very like it. Either that or a simulation much better than officer training had the budget for. There are other trolls nearby -- highblooded, aggressive, recently laid. At least one is emitting the stink of fear. You hold very still, blinking purple afterimages from your eyes, waiting. You're unarmed. You're out of uniform, dressed for a party. Whatever's going to happen now, diplomacy's your best option. You can figure the rest out later.