[Zeiram's "hat," with that horrible little white face, is safely contained.

Iria stands calmly nearby and types on a small handheld device. But this time she glances up to regard all of you.] I'm sending Bob our coordinates. The transporter can only handle so much matter at a time, so I'll go last. After Zeiram.

Are you ready?

[You better be ready because the next post is here!!]