Log:Some Things are Best Left Alone - Part 2
Some Things are Best Left Alone - Part 2
OOC Date: June 17, 2021
Location: Space
Participants: Saturi, Netep Muri, Eriu Jynx, B'haav Adasta, and Khalim
The airlock door to the Tactful Nova slides open with a sharp hiss. The pitch of the noise rises sharply until it is abruptly cutoff by the vacuum. Before the party is a dark corridor of an abandoned asteroid station nestled in a poorly charted section of the outer-rim. Sprawling plant corpses line the deck-plating, vines emanating from cracked windows. From the looks of it, this complex is a lab of some sorts.
<"I left the ship's gravity generator on."> Saturi remarks as she activates her suit's headlamp. <"It will have an effect until we get to the center of the station...if I remember correctly."> A sense of dread washes over the woman as she ambles into the hallway. <"I'm not leaving here until I've found my other blaster.">
<"Well thank the moon for gravity, not literally, we should thank Saturi."> This said through the vocoder of her helmet. The void armor does wonders and all the tools she could need are strapped to it, integrated and more. The tetan goggles give her a few readouts but nothing specific. <"What are we supposed to watch out for here? Besides Saturis blaster."> The sword strapped at her side seems far to elegant for her chosen ensemble.
Already her helmeted head swivels back and forth, searching for something to work with. Console, small little intercom, anything. Eriu surges ahead, strides carrying her towards a streamlined terminal. She pulls the access panel off after a slender tool from her wrist is produced. It is set to the side as she inspects the guts. <"Should work..."> she takes a moment to consider the innards further. <"If we can get it some power.">
Khalim steps through the Tactful Nova's airlock door, his armor's maglock boots disengaged for the time being. The ship's gravitic influence was still more than sufficient to meet everyone's needs. For now, at least. His helmet's low-light vision function cuts a bit of green across the visor, as certain wavelengths are artificially shifted to be a bit more visible. Stepping around and just beyond Eriu, he speaks via lightly vocoded (for legibility) transmitter, "Think that panel has... a light switch or something?"
B'haav's had a lot of time to think about this place, and it's with some trepidation that he's setting foot on this asteroid; his first dealings with this place had involved fetching a doctor on Nar Shaddaa, and doing his own ludicrous-best attempt at first aid. The damage he'd seen - and that that had been suggested by a shattered void helmet - had certainly made a lasting impression. Whether he's just another set of eyes, or he's here for medical intervention, he grips his power-cane a little tighter, blade already exposed and humming. Eyes sweep the corridor ahead, seeing vines and old blood - was any of it spilled by the pair of Shadowportians on their last outing? <"I'm not sure... There's old blood... Vines... This door looks like it hasn't been checked."
B'haav opens one of the doors off the hallway, leeading into a lab, illuminated by the lamps on his armor. <"Old datapads, derelict equipment..."> Research materials offered cursory glances. <"Nothing for power in here, nothing to help."> B'haav moves toward the door to rejoin the crew.
<"Was being light on the 'G' what saved our bones, last time,"> Muri takes unhurried, verily cautious steps into familiar ground, her own blaster already in hand. She's usually the last to draw, so that likely says more'n she bothered to. <"Was a pretty far fall...."> Her maglock boots crunch over the bits of glass still littering the floor, bypassing the withered, purple-black leaves that had caught her eye last time. The bachani. <"If you can restore some power, might be able to use the lifts. Last we left our friends they were on the third level, but no telling where they've gone, now."> Her narrow beam of built-in helmet light sweeps the space ahead, floor to ceiling, side to side. Repeat. Slow, prowling steps take her toward the atrium where her old viney friends, aka living ladders, were ever so helpful last time.
And that's where she stops, head craning back bits at a time to look up...up...up...and around. Hunting for any telltale sign of movement that they were not blessedly alone. And so far? Not a shiver of shadow out of place. Except....
<"Found some of your faceplate,"> Netep's chuckle can be heard over comm and she stoops to pick up the fragments from the floor.
<"I'm trying my best not to think about it."> The Pantoran's response to both B'haav and Muri is flat. If she were to give this place a rating for her experience, it would be an easy zero out of five stars. <"We might have missed something, but neither of us saw anything all that helpful down here."> It's a comment directed to Eriu, knowing that the power is going to be a persistent problem. <"Fair warning..."> Her left hand drops to her leg, drawing out her golden blaster. <"...there were very unpleasant droids here. And an anomalous shaking that we couldn't explain."> Saturi wanders down the corridor, skipping past the labs she had already explored on a previous trip.
She carefully walks into the atrium, ensuring that she is behind Muri. <"They're not here."> A glance is given to the busted faceplate...at least part of it. <"We never got around to finding a station schematic.">
With nothing of import and the original explorers urging them on Eriu stands up to look at Khalim and chortles out a laugh. <"Would have been convenient, but sadly, no. I am sure we might find one eventually."> If she could be heard winking, it would be at that moment. The Duchess lets out a breath as they reach the next section, pausing to kick at some of the fragments, noticing the blood as the light from her helmet sweeps over it. <"Blood and fragments..."> The receptical ahead is what stops her as wshe nears it.
Pushing back the top she reaches in and plucks out some sort of grey packaged...food. Reads on the side 'Nerf Patties and Chips'. She can be heard gagging a little. "Reconstituted that has to be rather disgusting... Anyone hungry?"> She checks the bag for a use by date.
Despite the apparent lack of immediate danger, Khalim notes several members of this little expedition exhibiting two things: drawn firearms and that little bit of tension that -says something-. It says, 'Khalim, you should probably draw yours as well.' And he does, that more-compact-than-it-should-be DeathHammer slid out of its cross-holster and held at the low ready.
The Mirialan follows behind Saturi and Muri, somewhat alongside Eriu. The Hapan receives a side-long glance, hint of wry yet tension-infused humor in his voice as he answers, "Blood and fragments is usually a sign to be moving in the other direction." With a glance down at his pistol he adds, "This doesn't seem sufficient all of a sudden." The atrium itself, once the party moves fully within, receives long sweeping looks. "It's enormous," he states, voice a hint more quiet than it'd been a moment before. "What the kriff is this place."
<"Nevermind, no one wants this. The used by date is about...well its over forty years ago...which means even longer since its preserved food. I am now very glad I did not look inside it."> She tosses it back inside the recptical and despite having gloved hands she dusts them together.
<"You would think we should move in the other direction, but when have we thought of preservation over curiosity?">
B'haav rejoins the group in his sun-shiney armor, the lab being a bust. He also follows along to the Atrium, keeping his eyes open but finding little beyond the blood and fragments. <"I've got a bad feeling about this."> Because someone had to say it. He walks past part of the wall, moving a little ways away from the rest of the team, following the hum of his vibro-sword which he cannot hear thanks to the vacuum outside his suit when he spies something on the wall. <"Did any of you see this poster?"> It's a poster of Emperor Palpatine, but it's been hung upside down. With the red rings around his eyes and the odd orientation of the hood... <"It almost looks like an Abyssin with two mouths, wearing lipstick..."> That's an image he won't get out of his head. He turns back to EJ.
<"You don't want to go more than 20 years past date. That's a thought of preservation and preservatives both."> He cranes his head back, looking up the central atrium to the levels above.
<"Maybe later,"> Netep replies to EJ's findings. You know she'd at least give it a lick, just to see. <"Blood's ours, fragments ours..."> You can almost hear the eye roll as she says it. The vividly viridian space gypsy has come to a standstill facing a wall under one of the catwalks of the level above. It's at least a 4 or 5 meter climb. She pulls one foot free of floor and plants it against the wall, alongside a dried but thick enough creeper. Saturi'll remember the show she put on last time, so let's see if Muri'll have a more graceful go of things this time around! The boot adheres, barely, and she holsters the blaster so that both hands may grasp and tug at the vine. Testing, testing, one, two, tug.
It holds. Snerkkt. A snort, her head and helmet beam swiveling around to illuminate the aforementioned poster. B'haav's critique of it elicits a giggle in spite of nerves. What a sight that would be...
<"I'm going up to the next floor. Can't recall if our snooping got halted there or the one above, but...I'm going."> Yup. She's going. Any day now.
The hesitation is warranted, but eventually Muri commits and begins her arduous ascent. Click-clack-umph. Click-clack-umph. Except the only sound she actually makes is her breathing broadcasted to everyone's ears inside their sealed headgear. By the time she reaches the bridge, that breathing's a /bit/ louder and accompanied by a great deal of flustered grunting while she works out how to get up and over at an inverted angle. Maglocks to the rescue, but barely. Gravity's still a thing here, albeit a little less heavy.
<"Graceful."> The Pantoran's compliment is force Muri as she watches the other woman manage to get up the vines on her first try. <"It's the additional pressure that helps, right?"> She jokes, activating her small jetpack. The rocket engages and lifts her off the ground, reducing thrust so that she can softly step onto the second floor's bridge. Her gaze is cast down at Eriu, B'haav, and Khalim. <"I would offer a ride, but I don't think my pack could handle the extra weight."> A look to Muri. <"It was barely able to hold Muri and I during her rescue.">
<"This..this is why we need power. Oh boy....I knew I should have gotten that line put on my pistol. I iknew it."> She edges out, tilting her head back to watch Muri...scale the lift shaft. There is a moment where Eriu seems uncertain, the Duchess staring down at the reinforced boots that are part of her void suit.
She taps each heel and there is a bit of a rush and a poof of exhaust. "Here goes nothing."
She bends her knees and with the preparation of someone who is waiting for the worst she tenses up far too much and pushing off the ground she is launched upwards. Not like a rocket pack but rather as if she had a bit more oomp behind her jump. They throw her off course and she slams into the side of the shaft.
Her hands reach out, scrambling desperately to find a hand hold as she nearly starts to fall back down. And there she is, hanging like some caught fish in the air.
Khalim's gaze climbs that vine-ladder-wall, climbs to that point at least four, maybe five meters up. A deep breath is taken, broadcast for all to hear as the Mirialan shakes his head in troubled thought. "I don't suppose it does much good for me to hang out down here, make friends with dead vines."
His Mer-Sonn is slid back into its holster, and hands clap together in a glove-muffled sign of mental preparation. The scene, for all intents, is one of a man preparing to struggle, but in reality his ascent is swift and smooth and with a low grunt he swings a leg up over the lip of that exposed second floor.
At that same moment Eriu smacks into the shaft side, fortunately missing the Mirialan but suddenly finding herself with tenuous purchase and Khalim darts an arm out and around the hapan's waist. He heaves upwards, as hard as he can, hoping to give her just enough of an assist that she may be able to clamber fully over the side. He himself remains more or less secure, half over the lip.
B'haav watches Muri go climbing a vine, maglock boots turning the wall into a floor and she makes it look easy. Saturi flies with her rocket pack... She has a rocket pack? The Balosar blinks in surprise. So far, so strange, but good. Eriu Jynx's turn as Shadowport ascends the atrium and she's... Just jumping? Then he sees the exhaust, and hie eyes widen again - at this point, they should just stay that way. Probably until they're safely off this asteroid. However the exhaust-fed boots don't steer her true and her ascent is interrupted...
There are times when B'haav wonders why he always keeps this bag of... Things around. All sorts of things. But in a time like this, he's glad. He'd been wondering how to get to the next level without hunting endlessly for a stairwell, and his hand had fished out one of the Theed Arms pistols he had picked up on one of his business trips. Most notable about the weapon, in his eyes, is the ascension cable. If he can aim it. Now, there's no thought for aiming, only for getting- Khalim has their Hapan compatriot secured and the hanging is not likely to lead to a fall. Breathing a sigh of relief, B'haav aims the pistol - with thought - and secures the line easily to the third floor so he can rise to the level of the rest. <"Good catch, Khalim. Are you alright, Eriu Jynx?"> B'haav hits the switch and starts reeling in the line, taking up the rear of this search party as he pulls himself upwards.
<"The frink you talkin 'bout, 'my rescue'??"> Muri argues, still a little out of breath from her efforts. <"You were already on the damn floor by the time my ass fell alongside."> Not /this/ rescue, Muri, the Kavendish estate! Bloodied Muri in a nighty, being rocketed through the air....her brain has not gone back to that place. So she sounds like an ass.
Fortunately, the rest of the crew is providing amble supply of distraction as they improvise their own ways to make the climb. The sight of their very special Duchess lunging like a horned gwerp only to smack into the lift shaft earns a sympathetic 'ouch' mouthed behind the glare of her visor. She's happy Khalim was there to make the catch because she's a bit too far beyond reach, herself. And that stare down at the caught Eriu tips up, up, up to track the Balosar that casually reels himself through the heights and beyond.
<"I really gotta fit that piece,"> she mutters to self and, by proxy, everyone. Oops. Then, louder, with a look directed to Saturi, <"We didn't get a chance to poke about here, did we?"> Because, as her light aims truly, there is a promising looking hatch. Promising, because of the placard alongside it, spelling out 'Engineering'. <"Let's have a look at this."> And she's already advancing down the length of corridor to that gaping point of access. It's open - mildly concerning - but that doesn't stop Muri from poking her head in and sweeping her beam of enlightenment around the space. <"Looks like the station core. I see -- hey, B'haav! Stairs. Maybe this links up to you."> Drawing her blaster for the second time, Muri timidly steps the rest of the way through, creeping toward the faint glow of a module that appears to still be active. <"Pretty bashed up in here, but some signs of life, so...might be hope for some power, yet. Probably backup juice. Eriu, you've got a job."> Muri stands, facing a wall of electronics - super computer - trying to trace conduit lines from little illuminated lights of 'green' to see whereabouts they lead in the control stations. Working backwards.
Saturi follows Muri through the second floor corridor, she keeps her blaster out, pointing into every small office along the block. She wanders into the engineering section alongside the other woman, looking back at the rest of the group. <"I've not seen a station like this."> The two-level engineering block extends into the third floor. Reserve systems seem to be operating, but everything else is busted. <"I've been in quite a few of these. Normally they're mining operations, but none of them have had a generator this large.">
A faint rumble shakes the deck. If there was air, a low growl would be heard throughout the station. The slight vibrations shake the feet of everyone in contact with the ground.
It's never graceful nor is it impressive when one is hoisted up out of a tangled web of their own making. But grasping at the edge, she lifts one knee and rather unceremoniously scrabbles to help with the lifting of her own weight. She rolls over, legs still dangling over the edge as the main portion of her weight anchors her safely on the next level. <"Th..anks..."> comes the labored appreciation from the Hapan as she takes a moment. A moment that does not last when she hears the call for her. Grunting as the vocoder lets the unladylike sound outward into the open air, EJ pushes herself up and starts towards the terminal. ,<"Yes, of course perfectly fine, Mister Adasta. when am I ever not?"> The tone of her voice once more indicates a wink.
<"Very well, something I can work with."> Hunched over the screen she pulls out the connection from her gauntlet and hooking herself up begins to quickly type out basic instructions which allows her basic access. <"That will simply not do.">
She dials a few settings into the comp on her gauntlet and returns to working at the terminal as a few short moments later she gains access to administration files. <"I am getting errors, the terminal needs some repairs before I can possibly access all information but I will state what might be obvious, this place is working on reserve power and the warning for evacuation was released...an unknown time ago. By the looks of it more than a few decades from what we came across. Anyone handy with fixing electronics otherwise I will get down and into the guts to see if I can patch us through. I don't think any logs exist on this one though...did you two ever find the location of a commander's room?"> This last asked of Muri.
See, Khalim knew asteroid mining operations as well. Perhaps not to the degree Saturi was familiar, given it was her active, present business to be all in-the-know when it came to station tech both new and old. But what he sees now, makes no sense to the Mirialam. To the collected party he observes, "Mining stations take a lot of power. If this were a mining station, which it... obviously isn't... it would have a power core, or generation station, larger than average." He gestures at the banks of readouts. Banks of banks. Saturi's observation is met with a simple nod, Khalim glancing aside at the Pantoran. "I don't know that a /defense platform/ would have a generator this large. What could it possibly be powering?"
His pistol rematerialized in a pear-hued hand, Khalim passes Eriu. The Hapan is clearly deep in slicer-mode, and he's as likely to slow her down as be able to offer any assistance. No more than a handful of additional steps are taken before that faint rumble emerges from the stations hidden depths. Looking down for as moment as the deck shifts with slight but definitely perceptible vibrations, he grunts, "Well that certainly makes me feel better about this entire situation. This station has indigestion."
The Mirialan's dark brown gaze rises, and is momentarily drawn to a collection of sub-system control stations just ahead and to his left along the terminal-cluttered wall. The readouts bear some familiarity, and he crosses to examine them. Power readouts, both primary and secondary. Auxiliary battery status. Khalim's eyes light with understanding. <"Power subsystems here. Including what looks like a power connection relay, not currently active, from the main power grid to the computer core. It might be repairable, it looks mostly intact.">
<"I'm glad to hear that, your grace,"> B'haav replies, with no particular facial expressions besides a flat-lipped, quiet sort of concern: the pyschologist-turned-trader's default face when things feel off. Seeing the others looking about, even a bank of computers marked for EJ's professional examinations, B'haav debates where to go as he hangs from the line, one foot on the edge of the landing. Maybe he can just... Keep an eye on things from above. Spy something useful from the high ground, right? <"I'm going to check the third floor. Purely visual, not going exploring."> Triggering the line again, B'haav reels himself up further, cresting the third floor.
The first thing he sees as he's looking for a place to set his foot is the hovering droid's frame, painted all black as was common for equipment and denizens of the Empire. The many articulated arms remind him of the seeker droid running security operations for the clinic, but... This one is larger. Fortunately, the glowing eye of its sensor array is not pointed at him and he very, very carefully switches the toggle to lower himself back down the cable as Khalim expounds on the power subsystems, willing the cable to vibrate or in any way attract attention. <"Everyone... Not to cause alarm or step on toes, but there is some sort of probe droid on the third floor... I don't believe it saw me. It's like a seeker, but larger. Imperial paint and markings though."> A foot again touches the second floor landing.
<"I have a second ascension cable, and something... Very nasty, if anyone's reasonably good at throwing munitions."> Where does he get all those wonderful toys?
The low 'brrrrrz' of deck plating tremors under foot and Netep goes very still. It's instinctual, the pause to listen, and takes a moment for her logical self to override that directive because she won't be discerning from which direction it originated in vaccuum, anyway. A hasty look up and around to Saturi seeks confirmation that she felt it, too. That Khalim and EJ felt it.
<"We never, no, nothing found but some supply closets and the lab before security started putting holes in our vac suits."> She glances back at EJ and backsteps to see what she's seeing. <"I give the Hermi a little TLC all the time. Maybe somethin'll look familiar."> Or maybe she'll be electrocuted, who knows. Either way, Netep parts ways for a moment, her own steps adding to the vibrations as she clunks around, rummaging about work stations and wall cubbies and --- AH HAH! There's a toolkit in one hand and blaster in the other as she marches back to join /Khalim/ this time.
She's in the process of popping off an access panel when B'haav announces his finding. Something R-rated grumps out under breath, followed by <"Yeah, that'd be a /friend/ of ours...I've got an ion grenade or two. <"If you can lob it within 3 meters of your target, it'll do the trick. If you can't...well, it won't kill anything that's got meat on its bones. Or bones. Or meat."> It's a droid-only deathbomb.
Muri's rooted to the spot though presently, so if anyone would like to throw her arsenal, they're gonna have to come retrieve it first. Because she's elbow deep in --
<"DROYK!"> a yelp, a flash, no telling whiffs of ozone, but Muri felt that one. She pounds once on the deckplating to vent her frustration, then goes back in, muttering all the while. <"I'll get it...I'm gonna....it'll work. Just....it'll work. Sec.">
<"Wouldn't a ion grenade fry your suit?"> Saturi asks with a hint of concern. <"You need your suit to breathe."> She's likely unaware of specialized shielding that prevents that sort of thing, but she won't appreciate such a weapon being deployed near her. <"I think that one of you should dispose of the droid."> Her body ambles back a few steps, standing under the grid-like stairs. The Pantoran doesn't want another face-off with the security. <"I've already had an unpleasant encounter with one of them. I don't want to replicate it.">
Stepping back from the console, Eriu gives the thing a long look and then glances back towards B'haav. <"I am not good at fixing the problem, though I should start practicing..."> She winces in sympathy for Muri's plight before focusing on the problem above them. <"That..is something /I/ can help with. Likely can't shoot anything worth a damn but I can throw...lots of practice with my knives. Something with more heft and no need to stick a pointy end in should be easier.">
Talking happens, likely too much of it but it gives Eriu a chance to roll her shoulders back, wiggling them back and forth to warm up. <"Thank you, Mister Adasta."> She smiles behind that helmet but her fingers shifting, the slight shake of her hand. Nerves.
But she does not fail them, drawing her arm back when she gets a good angle and throws it as accurately as she can with as much ooomph as the twist in her hips, shoulder and wrist will muster.
And its enough as the ball with its ion charge slams into the droid and the sparks fly and the thing begins to jiggle and jolt about. <"HA HA!"> The posh victory sound echoes a bit.
As Muri settles in to do, well, whatever it is she's doing at that semi-functional sub-system panel, Khalim looks up in the direction he'd earlier seen B'haav cable-climb. B'haav's transmitted warning is followed by Saturi's suggestion to dispatch it. A probe or seeker droid of some kind, here. Imperial. Though hidden behing a plastoid helmet, the Mirialan's expression darkens. Khalim's free hand rises in an unconscious movement, a gloved finger pressed against armor, hovered over the complex inked geometry below. He stands, motionless.
The discharge of a sharp electrical crack behind him breaks that momentary freeze and with a half-turn Khalim asks, <"Are you alright, Muri?"> A frustrated stomp on Muri's part seems to indicate the answer to that question. Eriu's throw - the Hapan nearer that opening from second to third deck - is missed, but the Gungan ball's energy discharge is not, and Khalim shifts his position just enough to get some kind of angle on the droid above, should it need additional fire. It does not, the unit sizzling for a moment with electrical discharges before it jiggles and jolts, and then presumably collapses. "What was that, a grenade?" He hadn't seen the toss. "Very nice throw if so." That aimed at Eriu.
B'haav, setting foot on the 2nd level and tying off the S5 for the time-being, he takes a knee and pulls the bag of many things from his back and unzips it. When the top opens, a shifty, eerie glow comes from the bag. B'haav produces that Boomer ball from the Gungan Grand Army and offers it up to EJ. <"Always happy to be of cervice, Duchess Eriussa Jynell."> We can all use titles, and B'haav hopes that EJ's will give her that little jolt of confidence. It must have, though, because with only his point to go off of, she hurls the grenade from the second floor to the third, and the shower of sparks is sign enough to her efficacy. <"Nice SHOT, EJ."> She has a lot of names, clearly. B'haav looks past her towards Muri and Saturi.
<"Were there any identifying traits of the one you tangled with? Perhaps we just got some revenge as well as some breathing room..."> B'haav looks to Khalim. <"A boomer ball, from the Gungan Grand Army. Core Matter from Naboo, and it will eat anything it breaks on."> And he had one in his bag! Well... From the way the bag still glows, more than one. B'haav holds up another ascension-lined pistol.
<"I don't have ammunition for it, but if someone wants it for traversal, I have a spare.">
<"Uh huh...jus' need a little dirty talk, eh? You old, dried up pi--"> Netep flinches her hands expectantly back when a light buzz is felt amid the connections she's tampering with, but it's a GOOD buzz, evidently. Power connected. Her own little whoop of triumph is aimed up under the 'skirts' of this terminal and into everyone's ear. <"Looks like something's nibbled around in here, is all. Likely mynock. Buggers probably got in to scavenge after the place evac'd.">
Then, wriggling back out, clutching some frayed bits of garbage wiring, <"Grenade? Well done....well done."> Grunting her way up into a sit, Muri tosses the junk parts to land wherever they will. <"One we tangled with was of the leggy variety, bipedal, had a little difficulty with the low-G and null-G but it managed to do us in all the same. There were a couple probe droids, sure. One blew up the other...well. It's also blown up."> Now. <"Also, stairs!"> She points helpfully, after all this time to the stairs linking this engineering deck with the one above. <"Thirdly, subsystem oughta purr real nice, now."> A point backwards at her handiwork. <"At least a /little/ nice. Might be a touch angry yet, but...let's give it a go!">
<"Do you think that it got off a signal?"> Saturi steps out from under the shelter of the stairs. She looks up at the third floor, not having a good peek at it. How was EJ able to hit that so easily? Her facial expression is hard to gauge through the backlit mask, but she is impressed with the throw. <"It might have gotten a signal off."> There is a degree of nervousness to her voice. The trauma starts to surface as Netep describes the security units.
The station lets out another low groan. Some of the systems light up as Muri finishes her repair. Emergency lighting flashes on, causing bright red to illuminate the area as the station computer starts to reboot. <"Khalim. You got your wish."> The hall lights flick on, their blue hue highlighting back down the second story corridor.
Eriu herself takes a moment to appreciate the success. Smugness may coat the first few words but she flexes, cracking her fingers as she heads back for the terminal, but not without clapping B'haav on the shoulder and nodding to Muri and Khalim. Having hacked past security measures she now has access to information stored in the subsystem thanks to Muri.
<"Let us see here...."> Whatever rabbit whole Eriussa begins down it catches her up and reroutes her, causing her to quickly lose what she had been searching for admist side folders and files. <"These files appear to be from corporate entities...some fifty odd years ago...it can not be the Imperials that owned this, that I can at least surmise but the rest...I am not finding any clear answers yet. I might just be looking in the wrong place. Why the station is here is still unclear.">
She makes room at the console in case others wish to read over her shoulder or have a chance at searching through the files that she has open access to.
The stairs, right over there! The light! It shines from above, banks of industrial fixtures raining photons down upon this motley crew. Saturi's quip draws a quick grin from the Mirialan, and a nod. "And a good thing, I forgot to pack extra batteries for this helmet's low-light module."
Eriu's breaching of the terminal's file system draws Khalim to stand next to her. He pulls down what information he's able, verbally adding to the Hapan's description of what she finds: "Hard to work through all of this. Not sure if it's corrupted storage or just... well... it looks like multiple research teams, an administrative team, security details, and maintenance. Each with their own directory structures. It's hard to make out exactly who had priority, or who they were." Looking back to the stairs, Khalim ventures a suggestion. "Shall we go up? There may be actual offices up there."
<"I don't know about a signal, but I'll keep another of those handy just in case... I didn't see its sensors, and it hadn't made any aggressive moves when I came back to second level."> There's something a little uneven in B'haav's voice, and he goes off-comms to cough, or just... Look away for a moment, hidden behind the reflective visor of the void armor, no one sees the red tinge on his cheek. Zipping up the bag, B'haav slips it over his shoulder and behind him again, taking the S5 and hitting the switch to recall the ascension line. B'haav crosses over to look at the readout while EJ works, a small crowd of Shadowport looking on.
<"May I?"> Something got under his skin and caught his eye, likely at the same time. A subfolder hidden in the corrupted files Khalim had mentioned. <"Wait, no... Here."> The Balosar pulls up the folder, the shorthand he'd spotted standing for the Command folder, and all the juicy bits are here. A message log between Station Commander and Research Director.
The Commander didn't approve of the Director's methods, and the Director did not care about it. The Commander went to corporate but did not succeed in having the Research Director removed. The research program doubled in size, expanding the station. The Commander, seeing no other option, took his concern to the Imperials, but they - likewise - did not respond due to lack of interest.
<"Well, that's certainly inform-"> A memo from the chief engineer catches his eye. <"What's this?"> B'haav opens it. <"The crew was evacuated due to major structural failure on the West side. The bloat of the research department, and subsequent expansion, fed that instability. There was an explosion in a primary power junction, and it blew the wall out. High instability..."> Shadowport? They're on the East side. <"Now I really have a bad feeling about this.">
<"Research?"> Netep doesn't appear concerned about why the station is still here on asteroid. She's concerned about what they were doing when they WERE. Namely, could things be replicated and/or tweaked for future PURELY HYPOTHETICAL uses....<"Any word on botany lab or bachani production or...pharmaceuticals? Explosion definitely explains how things went tits up so fast."> Muri lurks now over shoulders after her eyes catch sight of some key words that might pertain to the information she's hungry for. Her fingers waggle into the mix, coming in on slow approach to stage a gentle takeover of search rather than violent coup.
<"I thought I..."> she backs out of the memo. Back again. And a side folder. A low whistle fills Muri's helmet when her probing leads her to some research files. More light browsing ensues, mentally discarding bits of data here, following others there...ahhh. <"Looks like two research teams operating here. One dabbled in herbalism..."> Which would explain the 'illegal' substances planted in the entry corridor. <"The other was..."> a little ice creeps along her spine just now and there's a subtle shift in her voice. Just a touch of dread. <"Cryostorage solutions, basically. Longterm freezing of organic life...success reported. Allegedly."> The lights on her helmet have dimmed, responding to the increase of ambient illumination. <"There's um...heh."> A glance cuts left and right to those huddled 'round. <"There's a facility, here. Cryostorage, lifeforms. If I had to wager which research team outgrew its power supply, I'm going to bet it was theirs. So."> She clears her throat and backs away from the terminal to aim a look up at that level above, like Khalim's query just re-registered in her brain. <"D'ya think they took it all with them? The...y'know. Specimens?"> Hopefully specimens, hopefully not /patients/. Muri feels an uncomfortable quease in her gut. <"I mean what if the power.."> Oh, the smell. Can they imagine? She can imagine. <"I don't.."> Neurons are firing faster than her mouth can keep up, hold on.
The little green disaster pulls up something in the upper left of her visor. Gets her bearings. <"Do we dare take a westernly drift?">
<"Ground instability is the second most common cause of asteroid miner accidents."> Saturi immediately thinks of the worst. <"Following operator error, of course...and machinery problems. Third...third most common cause of death."> At first, it sounds like a vote down to the idea. <"I think, with care, that we could explore the western section of the station, but everyone needs to understand that collapse would be /very/ dangerous. Rescue won't be feasible.">
<"And that's not to mention the security presence that we haven't resolved.">
A nod is made to the computer. <"They left for a reason.">
<"I agree and that rumbling? Is that machinery? You say lifeforms....and what else was on here and been thriving all these years in their absence? Could be anything..."> Eriussa steps back when the others find more info and then turns her helmeted head towards Khalim. The visor reflects him and she considers what he says for a very long hesitant moment. <"I am up for exploring with the caveat we take it slowly and watch out for your ..friends. I don't mind unleasing another boomer ball at them."> She looks ready to accept the challenge. Her arm is golden tonight.
<"Shall we?"> Saturi sounds hesitant.
Muri's stream of consciousness observations - the Lorrdian standing just to Khalim's left at the data terminal - are punctuated by little blips and bleeps as Khalim's hands move with a determined pace across his side of the terminal's control panel. "Uh-huh," he says, nodding along. As she continues, the bleeps and blips intensify, and it soon becomes apparent the Mirialan is now several levels into a game of 'Space Minesweeper', the operating system's built-in game's icon having been waiting for a click for at least forty years.
Eriu, speaking at him, seems to jog Khalim's attention back to the moment at hand and that dark brown gaze shifts over to the Hapan. He points at the display. "High score. I beat every engineer that was assigned to this station." Of course 'Space Minesweeper' hadn't been reset, right? Ever? Of course not! He nods though, adding, "Everyone on their toes. Electro-balls at the ready. We all have sealed suits." He turns away from his winning game. "Let's."
B'haav considers who or what could have been frozen, decades-back... Not great food for thought. With the rumbling in the ground beneath them - a rumble even he's starting to notice - B'haav may prefer to chew on the much-expired food packet found down below. <"So... Operate nothing... Stay away from machinery and... Don't touch the ground. Fair enough,"> the psychologist replies, looking between all of them. <"I'm in.">
The Balosar won't back away from the terrifying parts. He doesn't have Space Minesweeper to blame for his bravo. Just... An infallible faith in his compatriots.
<"Ooh, nice score.."> Muri leers a little at Khalim's handiwork there--OH right. Focus, Muri. Focus. <"Yeah great, structural collapse and we all die, got it. Not so different from the Aurea glassworks' lava leak, it'll be fine."> It wasn't fine, ask the Glassworks. The Explorer's Guild shall never be invited back.....ever.
<"I'll uh..."> A look goes to Saturi and her obvious feelings of trepidation about this whole foolhardy affair. <"I'll take point?"> Said no Muri ever, including this one. Her tiny shoulders square up just a bit. <"Right, yup. It'll be this waaaaaa-no, no."> Her two steps beyond the hatch pivot and go in reverse. <"This way.">
Maybe.
