Well, it's been over a year. How about some fiction?

The interstice rippled open, a blackened wound on reality that gushed exotic particles that wavered in the air as smoke and just as ephemeral before dissipating in sulphur fumes. From it stepped something, a something that didn't walk so much as jump and wavered there on the precipice of being here and being elsewhere. The mind was still trapped beyond, but here, the body seems to shrink while growing into itself, trailing wisps of the exotic that channel off it in an oily aura while slitted neon-green eyes began to adjust to the here, the now and no longer the there, the gone. But even as it landed, it's arms flapped to regain balance while the newly adjusted eyes looked downward, startled. That was when it felt the heat of the air and was nearly blown away.

High above the drifting magma sea of Hulyait IV, the cargo train flew from the mining operations to the main spaceport more than thirteen hundred kilometers away for refinement, processing and shipping. And atop it stood Stent, a Baajin of Daluquen III. Rivers of fire ran in relief down the sides of the blackened husks of mountains in the distance while smoke clung to the sky like an infested, pulsating wound.

Alien, xeno, unknown -- Stent dropped down to hands and knees, clawed fingers and toes gripping the metal roof as the machine clocked in at speeds over four-hundred kilometers an hour. The attempt was futile and the creature began its backward slide into the void and the waiting fire sea below. The Baajin's HUD came to life, a strange mashup of iconography and menus and command lines, all tied into and activating portions of the technology embedded within the body and jumpsuit of the creature. The kinetic accelerator came online creating a shield to divert the slipstream ravaging it. The press of hurricane winds diminished to nothing, but a bar representing the power draw flared to life within Stent's HUD -- time was limited.

Standing, Stent's profile was silhouetted against the red and black. Too, the Baajin was black scaled with some being orange and yellow along arms and legs that could alternate colors and patterns (green and red respectively), a unique method of communication for the Baajin race. Tall, standing bipedal atop hock-jointed feet with a long, curved dewclaw at the ankle, it turned its bald head to look about. Lipless with a mouth, noseless but for two slits, and earless but for two holes representing them, the creature was strange, dressed in a black and orange jumpsuit with sleeves rolled up and the legs cut off below the knees. Tactical gear was strapped onto it, along thighs, waist, back. A strange handgun, diskettes along the right thigh, magazines along the left, a knife on the back of the waist. Utility pouches holding more gear for easy access, and cradled on the back, something akin to a sub-machinegun.

A forked tongue tasted the air as the trim and vaguely feminine form began unfurl the cutting torch from a pouch and began to apply the beam directly to the surface of the train, intent on creating an opening...