Beacons blare their silent song, the grate ripples invisibly through the great nothing of space, and then all is quiet. There is blessed nothingness. There is silence, darkness, a dreamy-fogged lack of gravity, and all of the stars go out.
+One.
+Two.
+Three.
+Four.
+Five seconds pass of bated breaths and unblinking eyes before the first creak hits the ship, the first shudder of the flooring, and the first sighs of relief as the Hapax Legomenon slips seamlessly into the chimney, that disruption in space and time that lets the ship wander between the stars over the slow months rather than long centuries.
+