Public Catalyst: Signal Flare (OPEN)

[Eli <redacted>]

Eli watched the pilot wipe at the blood beneath his eye, the faint tremor in the man’s fingers giving away more than any words could. Smoke drifted from the cigarette between those same fingers, curling upward in thin grey ribbons that softened the wreckage-lit shadows around them.

Suspicion clung to the pilot’s posture like a second skin. Eli read it easily. Suspicion meant fear. Fear meant leverage.

He let silence stretch long enough for the tension to become deliberate, then let a small, measured smile touch the corner of his mouth; the kind of smile people often mistook for reassurance. “Imperial?” he murmured, amused at the thought. “No. They wouldn’t waste their time or credits on someone like me.” He didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t need to. “If I were one of them,” he added quietly, “you’d still be in that ship. They prefer casualties that clean themselves up.” His gaze held steady on the pilot, studying every flicker, every breath.

“I’m tracking someone,” he said, tone softening with something almost reverent. “A woman who shouldn’t exist. A mistake or a miracle, depending on who you ask.” His eyes unfocused for the briefest moment, as though following a thread only he could see. “She leaves traces,” he continued. “Little distortions in the places she slips through. I know how to read them. I know how to follow them. I’ve been following them a very long time.” His mouth curved again; not with kindness, but certainty. “She’s close,” he murmured. “I can feel it singing in my teeth.”

A beat passed. The air shifted. Eli’s expression returned to its controlled neutrality, the practiced calm of someone who understood exactly how much power he held in the moment. “You don’t have to trust me,” he said, voice low and steady. “Trust is a luxury for people with options.” He glanced at the wreckage behind the pilot, then back to the man himself; an unspoken reminder of how quickly circumstances could turn fatal out here. “You only need to understand this,” Eli went on, the softness in his tone giving way to something quieter, darker. “If you walk away, you won’t make it far.” A pause. “And she won’t be the reason why.”

He let that truth settle in the air between them, smoke curling through the space like punctuation.

Hubert Starhopper

 

[Talyr Ivaakren]

Hubert Starhopper Liin Terallo Dankaia Virkenn Eli <redacted>

Talyr took a moment to flick her tail and use her organic hand to rub thoughtfully at the underside of her blue-gray chin fur, those rounded ears lowering against her short, unkempt red hair as she narrowed her eyes at the status bar of the task at hand. Her free hand then began to twirl her blaster off to one side while her data scomp worked to and fro, interfacing with the computer to shut off an extraneous file or two to make the download work a little faster...

With a soft blerp! the screen before her gave an antiquated "Download Complete" display for a moment, before the pale blue imagery descended back into standby mode as the Selonian's scomp link withdrew into the tip of her pointer finger once more. A twist of her organic hand disconnected the interface cable of her datapad from the ship's computer terminal, and the slim little scavenger wrapped her interface cable around her 'pad, to slip both items into the back of her new travel pack.

At this point, a few mores rooms on another forgotten part of the ship couldn't hurt, not in the slightest!

Whistling an old Van'Lafftr tribe ceremonial tune, the unkempt outcast began to subtly, slowly and casually hop and skip back up along the path she had come from. She had decided to search a different broken section of the vessel's desiccated remains, her blue-gray tail flicking as she wondered just what she'd stumble across next as she pushed through the hallways, drawing ever-closer back to the surface and into the light again...

 

[Dankaia Virkenn]

​

Tag: Liin Terallo / Talyr Ivaakren

Dankaia shifted without hesitation, boots whispering across the metal deck as she repositioned herself between the two unstable droids and the new silhouette peeling out of the shadows. Her body moved on trained instinct, smooth, silent, precise, while her mind calculated vectors, threat levels, and the fragile psychological equilibrium holding the room together.

She didn't raise her weapon, even as the two droids' sensors flickered at her change in position, their logic trees branching into increasingly volatile possibilities, but Dankaia held steady. She centered herself in the line of fire, eyes locked on the newcomer, ready to intercept whatever danger that quiet darkness intended to deliver. Then the woman spoke.

Dankaia listened in silence as the woman said, carefully, how the droids had begun remembering the wrong things. Not corrupted files, not data rot, but memories that didn't belong to their schematics or their service logs. Dankaia studied her with clinical detachment: noticing the slight twinge of tension in her shoulders when she urged Dankaia not to provoke them.

Those details mattered more than the words themselves. This wasn't a handler trying to maintain authority. This was someone, possibly, who'd already survived a close call and was hoping she wouldn't have to watch another one unfold.

The droids stood motionless in front of her, but their stillness was a lie. Dankaia could sense the micro-twitches of their internal gyros, the anticipatory hum vibrating through their chassis like a heartbeat held too long. The woman insisted she be the one to talk to them, only her, and Dankaia understood why the instant she saw the droids' optical sensors track the woman with almost organic recognition.

Whatever broken memories they were clinging to, she was quite possible their anchor point, the last familiar node in a scrambled network. One wrong move, one misread gesture from Dankaia, and those machines could slip from passive confusion into violent self-defense. So Dankaia stepped back, lowering her powered-down hilt; letting the woman move between them like a signal jammer stabilizing a volatile frequency, hoping the machines remembered enough of the right things to stand down.

Dankaia, her eyes never wavering from the robotic duo, kept her voice low, a razor-edged whisper meant only for the woman beside her. "Be careful it's not just these droids that are remembering; there's something else 'alive' in this dead ship, and I think it's been watching since everyone's arrival. Something or someone has awoken it."

Spoiler: Loadout

• Cybernetics / Bionics
  • Left Hand
  • Cybernetic Brain Chip
  • Cybernetic Heart
  • Cybernetic Spine
  • Cybernetic Rib Cage

 

[Hubert Starhopper]

Objective: Stop The Lady



Tags: Talyr Ivaakren Liin Terallo Eli <redacted> Dankaia Virkenn

Gear: Tool-Kit, Custom Blaster Pistol



-----------



Hubert nods, agreeing with the stranger's assessment of the Imperials. "Right, right. Apologies I ain't all here yet." His body from head-to-toe unclenches knowing now that his savior isn't an Imp. His guard isn't down, it's just not all the way up at the current moment. "Kinda' feel like I'm still spinnin'... This lady- I know how it usually goes with this kinda' thing, but- what's the deal? Y'know... I'm inclined to help ya' anyway it goes. Seein' as how you saved my life and offered me a ride outta' here and all... But I would like to know why I'm to shoot at someone I don't know. And please none of that 'Because I asked' kriff. If it's classified so be it, but..."

He takes a long drag from his cigarette, making sure to blow it into the wind in such a way to avoid the cloud from suffocating the man.

"Look- I can shoot with the best of 'em. But if I'm not sure if I'm hunting a terrorist, or just some loose end that needs tied... I can't promise I won't hesitate." His words are calm, resolved now even. This isn't a matter of life-and-death fear to Hubert, no shootout is. Hubert isn't afraid to die for what he feels is right- but that is where his worries lie.

What if this were just some girl that saw something she shouldn't? Or missed a payment with the wrong person? It is unlikely given the expanse of this chase, but not impossible. Would Hubert be able to squeeze? Would he turn on his savior and do what he can to help the poor soul escape? Morality is a big part of the play for him- if it isn't right, it isn't done.

Another drag is taken and let out slowly, the mixture of nicotine and fresh air helping his mind along in getting back on track. A sour look permeates his face in contemplation as he struggles with the thought of whether or not to abandon his code if need be, or if he will die this day in some spur-of-the-moment escape plan. However his face stays sour as if in irritation.

But inside, his anxiety only rises as he further dleves into the situations his mind keeps creating.

A deep breath,

A long sigh.

Hubert looks skyward, squinting in the light shining down into his eyes. A bad feeling is sinking into his gut like a knife. Needless to say, it has been since his engines died on entry. Something about this place is wrong... Hubert is no stranger to listening to what his gut tells him, but this time is different. It isn't a feeling, so much as a presence. Like someone is standing inches behind him, looking over his shoulder. It makes the hairs on his neck stand on end. As a member of the Mandolorian Star Corps- a Forceless mechanic at that, Hubert knows this is likely more than he can chew...

...But at least for now, he has a chance to take a bite, swallow his pride, and get off-world. Which is a lot more than he could say just a few minutes ago.

 

[Eli <redacted>]

Eli didn’t answer right away. He stood beside the open ramp, the cold wind tugging at his coat, pale eyes drifting across the horizon as though considering the shape of a distant thought rather than the man speaking to him. When he finally looked back at the pilot, the shift was subtle; just a narrowing of focus, a thin sharpening of attention that made the world feel quieter around him. “You’re not wrong to ask,” he said, voice low, almost gentle. “And hesitation can get a man killed. So let me give you something real.”

He took a step closer; not threateningly, but with the steady, deliberate calm of someone who already understood the outcome of this conversation. “The woman I’m tracking isn’t a terrorist. She isn’t some criminal scum I want silenced.” A faint and nearly imperceptible smile touched the corner of his mouth. “She’s… complicated. Brilliant. Dangerous, but not in the ways you’re thinking.” Another pause. Thoughtful. Perhaps even too thoughtful. “She was part of a research initiative. Classified, yes - but not in an Empire or Republic sense. More… independent.” He searched the pilot’s face. “Something went wrong. Something that turned good men into liabilities. She has information in her head that other people will kill for. A lot of people.”

His eyes softened in a way that wasn’t warmth so much as curated empathy. “I don’t want her dead. I want her found before someone with fewer scruples gets to her. If you fire a shot, it’s not to kill. It’s to slow down anyone trying to take her first.” A breath. A slow one. “And before you worry - no, you’re not helping me tie up some loose end. She’s not my enemy.” His gaze drifted, just for a heartbeat, toward something only he could see. “Far from it.”

Eli straightened, adjusting the strap of his gear. “You won’t be asked to do anything blind. But understand this; if we wait too long, someone far less interested in mercy will reach her. That’s the truth I can give you.” The softness vanished from his expression, replaced by a quiet certainty. “You with me?”

Tags: Hubert Starhopper Dankaia Virkenn Talyr Ivaakren

 

[Liin Terallo]

Something cold threaded down my spine at her words. A whisper-light sensation that did not belong to the recycled air of the derelict ship.

Alive.

I did not look at her right away. I kept my focus on the droid’s exposed panel, fingers wanting to hover just above the frayed circuitry; as if touching it might shatter the thin calm holding the moment together. But I dared not to. The hum beneath the plating was not mechanical anymore. It felt attentive. Like a breath held close to my ear. “I have felt it too,” I murmured.

The lights overhead flickered; once, twice, then steadied. The floor beneath my boots thrummed with a pulse I had not sensed before. Faint but deliberate, as though the ship itself was slowly remembering it's own heartbeat. I straightened and brushed my hands off on my coat, and finally met her gaze. “These droids are not reactivating on their own. Something is prompting them. Coordinating them.”

A metallic groan echoed through the corridor, low and distant, but it crawled through the walls like something turning in it's sleep.

“It is not hostile yet,” I said, even though hearing the words aloud did little to settle my nerves. I lifted my ring, letting the dim emergency lights catch the stone. Just a test. Just in case. The gemstone did not glow. It could be a goodthing. Or bad. I was not sure of which. “But whatever it is; it is old. And it is curious. We move forward. Carefully. If it is watching, I want it to see we are not here to destroy it's home.”

Another pulse through the floor - closer this time. “And let us hope,” I whispered, “that it still remembers what it means not to destroy us.”

Tags: Talyr Ivaakren Dankaia Virkenn Hubert Starhopper

 

[Talyr Ivaakren]

Liin Terallo Dankaia Virkenn Hubert Starhopper

Talyr was a little out of practice.

She had been grunting and straining her weak, pathetic arms for the better part of nearly ten whole minutes in her efforts to haul herself up and over the top of a broken section of tubing, above which was the flickering entrance of a lighted doorframe that the Selonian was stubbornly trying to get to - she could survive the jump back to the sand below if the need to run happened to come up. It was after a gasping, sweat-laden, grunting final effort that the slim weasel-thing managed, at last, to haul her scrawny ass up and over the broken, sand-worn durasteel, where she spent a few moments laying on her back and wheezing from the exertion.

"Damn... Dammit... The uhhhh... Only... Only Star Destroyer... That... Will ever matter... Is... Is the one I... Obtain for... Myself..." She lisped between gasps, then huffed and coughed for a minute or so until, with a kick of her slim legs and a twist of her athletic torso, the flexible alien began to shimmy resolutely into the depths of this new section of the wrecked capital ship. There HAD to be more valuables for her to procure in here...

It was about thirty or so feet inside that she caught the first faint glimmerings of... Damn... Voices - she wasn't alone inside, annoyingly! She slowed her pace, and began to creep along, her lithe body keeping to the shadows that she could find, tail tucked down along the back of one leg, lithe limbs slow and every movement purposeful and laced with caution. She thought she could see a faint outline a long way off, silhouetted by distant light which gave the shape of some distant figure. The Selonian huffed and shivered in nervous anticipation, flicking her thumb to extend her curved vibrodagger from the back of her hand, up between the middle of her knuckles along that same hand, the black blade easily hidden away in the shadows, but to be used ONLY if needed. Even as she hoped she could reason with his unknown party, Talyr withdrew her aged, rusted pistol from its holster at her side.

Hopefully it wouldn't be needed, either. She could always present herself as a mere explorer or Good Samaritan...

She lisped into the darkness ahead of her, as the friendly approach seemed best, "Is someone here?"

 

[Hubert Starhopper]

Objective: Stop The Lady



Tags: Talyr Ivaakren Eli <redacted> Liin Terallo Dankaia Virkenn

Gear: Tool-Kit, Custom Blaster Pistol



-----------



Hubert Listens to the words of the man before him with utmost caution. For the most part, Hubert thinks the guy is just telling him kriff he wants to hear. The step closer causes a quick foot-to-head glance from Hubert, but he remains in place. His arms fold just under his chest, his right palm against his torso just in case he has to slide it over to draw the blaster from his chest. However, something about the way this stranger says that his target is far from being his enemy, telling him not to shoot to kill- but to slow her pace... Maybe his eyes? The slight twitch to his mouth? It seemed almost as if this mysterious shade before him just shimmered with a little light upon her memory.

He locks eyes with this stranger, his arms unfold and his hands meet his hips. Cigarette smoke billows from his nose as another drag is taken with contemplation. "Alright. And I didn't mean nothin' by it. I've just put faith in the wrong people, like to be sure."

He takes a few cautious steps, slower than usual as to not read hostile. He stops about a foot away and extends a hand to shake, eyes still locked to the other pair staring back. "Hubert Star-Hopper, Mechanic to the Mandolorian Star Corps. Lead the way."

As Hubert trails along behind his new companion, he takes his first good look at the wreckage of the Star Destroyer. The haunting visual of what was once strong, unyielding and virtually impenetrable- now lay frail, giving up, decaying... The structural beams that once held the upper decks in all their glory, broken and jagged- cranked and twisted into a gaping maw that screams silently into the sky.

Hubert takes the cigarette from his mouth with his left hand, his right now gripping and hanging loosely off of the hilt of his pistol. This time however, the intentions were not meant for the man he can see, but those he can't...

"Sure picked a spot for it. Feel like there's someone breathin' down my neck." He takes a quick peripheral glance over his shoulder.

As they grow closer that very feeling grows larger... not as if the presence behind him grows in size, but in number... more and more pairs of eyes on him, sinking paranoia further and further into his head. Still, he steels his resolve. He places the smoke back in his mouth and tugs at his collar with his now free hand. Another puffy cloud meets the air, and through it, Hubert can swear he sees a face...

But he blinks, and it's gone...

"What's the deal with this place? Feels weird."

 

[Dankaia Virkenn]

​

Tag: Liin Terallo / Talyr Ivaakren

Dankaia let the words wash over her, each syllable sinking into the quiet calculus of her mind like droplets of acid on steel, corroding assumptions and illuminating new angles. The woman's revelation, that the droids had been activated and were now moving with an unseen coordination spun in Dankaia's thoughts, connecting threads she had not yet traced. Every motion she had observed, every flicker of preemptive precision, now carried the weight of orchestration, a deliberate hand guiding the chaos, and she adjusted her perception accordingly.

"This all of this feels unnaturally precise," Dankaia murmured, her senses prickling as she scanned the corridor ahead. "We do need to move forward carefully, every step measured, every shadow considered." Her hand relaxing over her hilt as she added, "We must stay alert, whatever lies at the source of this, might already be three steps ahead of us."

A subtle ripple coursed through the Force, a living pulse that carried no trace of heightened power or training, another organic presence, ordinary yet deliberate, moving just beyond her immediate perception. Dankaia's instincts sharpened, the hairs along her neck rising as she threaded her awareness outward, tracing the unfamiliar life with careful precision.

Then a voice cut through the quiet, sharp and uncertain: "Is… is someone there?" and the ordinary, untrained presence she had felt snapped into startling clarity, filling the space with tension and imminent possibility.

"It appears our party of two might grow by one," Dankaia said almost amusingly. "Reveal yourself," she called, the words cutting through the stillness, "friend or foe?" Her fingers brushed the hilt of her lightsaber, the subtle pressure a promise of readiness, a warning that any misstep would meet swift and unyielding response.

Spoiler: Loadout

• Cybernetics / Bionics
  • Left Hand
  • Cybernetic Brain Chip
  • Cybernetic Heart
  • Cybernetic Spine
  • Cybernetic Rib Cage

 

[Talyr Ivaakren]

Liin Terallo Dankaia Virkenn Hubert Starhopper

The Selonian woman froze even as the outline of a humanoid - moderately slender and athletic, it looked it - shifted ever-closer into view, a dark shadow that definitely spoke of some form of alien, its voice imperceptible even as the sounds softly echoed along the forgotten metal corridors that surrounded at least three of them, as it was doubtless that the unknown female was conversing with yet another unknown party. Talyr shivered as she ventured forth cautiously, yet with as much courage as her cowardly heart could muster! Even then, if wasn't a whole lot...

The Selonian found herself trembling ever-so-slightly as she took a breath in an effort to calm herself... Even as she replaced her worn pistol back into its holster. It made far more sense to play the friendly sort, at least for now. Hopefully no bloodshed would be necessary!

Talyr's suspicions were confirmed as she heard the voice just ahead, now, "Reveal yourself," the woman's voice spoke with a calm that Talyr could only envy, "friend or foe?"

The Selonian huffed and rubbed a hand along one pant leg, while using the other to smooth out her frazzled and unkempt red hair. It was now or never!

"Uh, Friend, I hope!" The Selonian jogged forward into the light provided, revealing a lanky, alien form of thin proportions, scarlet-red hair atop her head, set against fur colored a strange, rare shade of gray-blue. Her bizarre eyes were heterochromatic - the right sapphire blue, while the left shown an exotic silver. The dull metal of a synthetic hand - a cybernetic replacement - hung from her left wrist, while a short tail that resembled a wire-brush swayed to and fro behind her lithe, weasel-like frame. The strange alien bore the barest hints of feminine curvature along her body, and ill-fitting, loose and hole-strewn pants hung over wiry legs. A patched and worn jacket hung over her tubelike body, with a leather-looking wrapping over her little bosom to keep her modesty intact completed her mismatched outfit.

She bowed to the two females, even while taking in their bizarre appearances and their more intrusive cybernetic replacements or augmentations.

"Talyr Ivaakren, I explore and collect and resell junk, and I was here tracking a strange signal I picked up while passing through this system..." Her voice was afflicted by a lisp, and saliva burst forth visibly into the air even as she spoke, though it was uncertain as to whether she was aware of this or not.

 

[Eli <redacted>]

Eli didn’t take the offered hand at first. He only watched it, the way one studies a tool before deciding whether it’s worth using. Then, after a measured heartbeat, he clasped it briefly; firm, cold, entirely without warmth. “Eli,” he said. “And don’t worry. You’re right to be cautious. Most people should be.”

Hubert’s paranoia didn’t bother him; it entertained him. There was a particular flavor to fear when someone felt watched. And Eli didn’t need the Force, synthetic or otherwise to sense it rolling off the man like steam from a cracked vent. If anything, the mechanic’s unease confirmed Eli’s own assessment of the area.

He turned toward the ruined Star Destroyer in the distance, it's jagged metal carcass half-swallowed by dust and silence. Somewhere inside that wreckage, Liin was moving. Breathing. Thinking. Hiding. Good. It meant she wasn’t dead yet.

“The place feels strange because it’s wrong,” Eli said, beginning to walk, expecting Hubert to follow. His boots crunched lightly over the dead ground. “Whatever hit that Destroyer didn’t just tear metal. It left… echoes. People who walked these halls last didn’t exactly die easy.” He didn’t dwell on it. Those weren’t the echoes he was interested in.

A faint pulse tugged at the edge of his awareness; the signal. Her signal. If the Imperials reached it first, they would track her… cage her… dissect her work until there was nothing left of her but pieces to be claimed. Eli would never allow that.

He glanced back at Hubert. “We’ll shut the beacon down. Quickly.” A thin smile; both something sharp and unreadable crossed his face. “I can’t have the wrong people finding the woman I’m looking for.” He faced forward again, gaze narrowing on the Destroyer’s dark silhouette. “She’s in there,” he said quietly, almost to himself. “And we’re going to get to her before anyone else does.”

The Destroyer’s broken hull swallowed them the moment they crossed the threshold. The light outside died in an instant, replaced by a muted, metallic dimness that felt… heavy. As though the air itself clung to their skin.

Eli didn’t slow. The signal brushed against him the moment he stepped inside; like a thin, trembling thread that tugged at the back of his mind like a whispered name. Faint, but unmistakable. It was her. Even diluted through static and distance, even warped by interference from twisted metal and scorched circuitry, he knew it for what it was.

His pace changed. Not faster, but sharper. He tilted his head slightly, listening to what others couldn’t hear, and lifted his wrist-lamp only high enough to avoid stumbling. The beam caught something at the edge of his vision: faint impressions in the dust scattered along the corridor floor; footprints. Small. Light. Someone trying not to be seen.

The corner of his mouth twitched in something that wasn’t quite a smile. “She’s close.” He crouched briefly, fingertips drifting just above the disturbed dust without touching it. The pattern was recent; no more than minutes ahead of them, if that. The angle of the prints told him something else too: she was cautious, doubling back once, switching directions, never trusting any straight path. Smart. Always smart.

He rose again, following the trail with a quiet, focused certainty. The closer he moved toward the Destroyer’s gutted interior, the stronger the signal grew; not in volume, but in pressure. A pulse behind his ribs, a tightness in his throat, as though the air thickened the nearer he came to the source. “She passed through here,” he said softly. He lifted a section of metal just enough to slip by. “Careful. And quiet.”
Tags: Hubert Starhopper Talyr Ivaakren Dankaia Virkenn

 

[Liin Terallo]

The Destroyer felt different now that we were deeper inside it; quieter, as though the corridors were holding their breath. Dankaia’s words lingered in the still air, and I found myself matching her careful pace, each step measured. The loudspeakers crackled overhead again, pushing another broken sweep of the broadcast down the hall. The sound echoed strangely off the metal ribs of the ship… but beneath the static, something brushed lightly against my awareness. Not danger. Not a warning. But familiar. Eli.

The synthetic thread between us tugged faintly. Nothing sharp, nothing alarming. Just a subtle pressure against my chest like the echo of someone calling my name from a room away. He must have made it inside by now after going off to help the crashed pilot. Good. That meant he was not injured, and it meant that he was following my path toward the source of the signal.

I exhaled slowly, letting that small comfort steady me. But before I could call back to woman I first encountered; a nervous voice piped up from the dim ahead. I stepped forward just enough to raise my flashlight. A small figure emerged; long‑limbed, fuzzy‑furred, clothes worn thin with hard use. She looked like she had run straight into this nightmare of a ship without thinking twice. “Talyr?” I asked softly. “It is alright. We are not here to hurt you. If you traced the signal in here, you are far braver than I would be alone.”

Another pulse rolled through the broadcast overhead; just static to the others probably, but to me something beneath it shifted. Not loud. Not dangerous. Just a faint ripple that made the synthetic thread between Eli and me tighten for a moment, then relax. I blinked, steadying myself. “He is close,” I murmured under my breath; not in fear, but in quiet reassurance. Eli must have reached the outer corridors by now.

Aloud, to both Talyr and the other woman, I added, “We should keep moving. The signal’s strongest ahead, and if we can shut it down, the Imperials will not swarm this place.”

A faint boot mark in the dust caught my eye. The stride was unmistakable. He was navigating these halls too. Following the same trail I was. I let a small breath out. Not panic. Just focus. “Stay close,” I said, lifting the flashlight a little higher. “This place shifts. It is easy to get turned around if you fall behind.”

Tags: Talyr Ivaakren Dankaia Virkenn Hubert Starhopper

 

[Dankaia Virkenn]

​

Tag: Liin Terallo / Talyr Ivaakren / Hubert Starhopper

In the dim arteries of the starship, where coolant mist curled like ghosts around the ceiling struts, Dankaia halted as the furry, unfamiliar alien stepped into the corridor's pale glow.

Instinct and analysis collided within her; threat parameters flickered red, then softened to amber as her eyes mapped its posture; not a hunter's crouch, but a wary, sentient poise: one hand drifting near her blade while her mind reached outward, brushing the edge of its presence with cautious, resonant curiosity, then slowly relaxed her hand entirely.

Dankaia gave the furry alien a sideways glance, one brow arching, and called out toward them both, "Well, congratulations to our mysterious beacon out there, it's just reeled in another curious soul for its collection." With a faint smirk in her voice, she added, "Nice to meet you, Talyr. I'm Dankaia."

Dankaia cast her gaze down the cluttered corridor, where loose cables, shattered panels, and forgotten modules lay strewn like the bones of dead machines, and remarked dryly, "If you're here to collect, you've chosen a very generous hunting ground."

A faint metallic echo threaded her tone as she gestured to the wreckage, adding, "There's more junk here than a scrapyard's dream. Depending on how all this plays out, might be your lucky day."

Dankaia's eyes then flicked toward the woman, acknowledging the sharp edge in her voice, and she nodded, letting a wry curve touch her lips. "You're right," she admitted, her tone a mix of grudging respect and urgency.

"We can't linger, whether it's that signal or the Imperials, there's something else at play here."

Dankaia's gaze sharpened, letting the moment hang between them, a flicker of recognition passing through her eyes to the woman's eyes; a whispering name was caught. Then with a subtle tilt of her head, she gave the woman the benefit of the doubt, letting the silence speak for her restraint, and began walking down the darkened corridor, her vampiric eyes scouting ahead.

Spoiler: Loadout

• Cybernetics / Bionics
  • Left Hand
  • Cybernetic Brain Chip
  • Cybernetic Heart
  • Cybernetic Spine
  • Cybernetic Rib Cage

 

[Talyr Ivaakren]

Liin Terallo Dankaia Virkenn

The Selonian trembled with faintly nervous energy, even as her cybernetic hand clicked softly, clenching and unclenching as she carefully used those bizarre eyes to scan the scrap nearby her and the other two women as she licked over thin, furred lips slowly.

"Very kind of you." She nodded politely to Liin Terallo , even as she cast a wary, though not unfriendly look towards the slender, ghost-looking alien. Her gaze took in her newfound companions' more impressive cybernetic work, and she felt only a small twinge of jealousy - she still had more of her organic self, and that did count, in a way. "Though I'm not very good at it, I do try to occasionally be brave." At this, she hung her head in shame, raising her cybernetic hand to smooth her forelocks away from her eyes.

Her gaze shifted to Dankaia Virkenn as she squinted a bit, and found herself unable to guess at what species that other cyborg was... Too pale to be a Chiss, that's for sure. The shy Selonian decided not to press the matter, for now.

"If you must know." she lisped softly into the grimy air, "I deal in information and code cylinders - historians across the Galaxy pay a decent amount for even the smallest bits of recovered info. Every little bit helps, no matter how obscure, in their eyes." Upon saying this, her little pipe-cleaner tail wagged, the exotic gray-blue fur shifting into an overhead ray of light for a few moments, even as she made her way to follow, slowly and cautiously, behind Dankaia Virkenn . She pressed her organic hand to the holster of her worn blaster and silently lamented the fact that she hadn't been able to find a viable replacement for it, as of yet. Thankfully, they WERE aboard a military vessel. It should only have been a matter of time!

The weasel alien sighed, "Did you two merely come to find the signal, or do you have other reasons for being here, in addition to that?"

 

[Hubert Starhopper]

Objective: Stop the Lady



Tags: Eli <redacted> Liin Terallo Talyr Ivaakren Dankaia Virkenn

Gear: Tool-Kit, Custom Blaster Pistol



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Hubert studies the decrepit halls of the Destroyer, imagining what the hustle-and-bustle looked like before it came crashing down like so many fallen stars, and left to rot like it were just another carcass on the prairie... squads of Troopers marching the halls, their Commanding Officers clomping their overly-stiff shoes- feeling all full of themselves as they make their way to go tattle on a family that may or may not have information on their current goal. Huberts jaw clenches as his hatred for the Empire becomes so strong, it's sickening.

Cowards, traitors to their kinds, brutish thugs that do nothing but wreak havoc on those doing nothi g but simply trying to live their lives... Disgusting- HORRIBLE creatures that need to be abolished from this plane of existence- and the next! Tortured like we are, beaten like we are- scared, scarred and hopeless as the opposing power only grows in size and number!

Huberts gaze becomes blazing hot, yet distant. His own thoughts being replaced with anothers. No- being riled up by anothers... Death to the Empire, and the rivers their blood would create. The land quenched- bathed in the blissful peace that is the crimson tide of Imperial life essence.

Hubert drops to his knees just behind Eli, a sweat beginning to break out so powerful it pushes past the grease clogging his pores. With heavy breaths, he leans forward and pushes himself up with his hands, standing straight.

"I don't like it here one bit, fella..."

he stoops down and retrieves the lit cigarette that dropped from his mouth, putting it back in its place promptly. He feels like he's gonna' need it...

 

[Liin Terallo]

Dankaia’s acknowledgement barely eased the tension thrumming beneath my skin, but at least she understood we could not linger. The ship felt… aware. Watching. It's silence was not empty. It was listening.

The information broker’s lisping explanation only confirmed what I already suspected: everyone had their own motives here. Good. At least she was honest about hers. While mine were harder to explain. “I did not follow the signal for profit,” I said, keeping my voice low as I stepped deeper into the corridor behind them. “We need it off before someone else traces it. Anyone still loyal to what this ship once belonged to is not the type I want showing up behind us.”

My fingers brushed the wall - cold, dusty metal - and something old pulsed beneath it. Not energy. Not machinery. Something older. Like pressure shifting beneath deep water. I pulled my hand back quickly. “It is not just a beacon,” I murmured. “There is something under it. A call… or a warning. I cannot tell which.”

The signal; that was the priority. If it was not shut down now, then the Imperials, or worse, would be on this broken hull before we even found the source.

The corridor opened into a wider chamber, it's walls pitted with age and streaked with grime. The air hummed faintly; a vibration I could feel more than hear. The source of the signal pulsed somewhere deeper, and the moment I stepped inside, the sensation wrapped around me like an invisible tide. I froze. My synthetic abilities flared in response, faint sparks crawling along my nerves, something almost alive brushing against the edges of my awareness. This was not a normal signal. It was not even fully technological. Something older, something almost conscious, was interacting with the small, fragile thread of power I had stitched into myself.

The source of the signal sat in the center of the chamber on a low pedestal, partially obscured by decades of dust and corrosion. At first glance, it looked like a crude transmitter; jagged, angular panels fused with wires that had long since frayed and curled like tendrils. But the closer I got, the more impossible it became to pin it to a single origin. Crystalline components jutted from the sides like faintly glowing ribs, pulsing in rhythm with the signal itself. Tiny arcs of energy traced along etched circuits that did not obey any pattern that I recognized, weaving in and out of both metal and crystal. The hum it gave off pressed at the edges of my awareness, and when my synthetic abilities brushed against it, it did not just respond; it reacted, nudging back with a deliberate awareness.

The pedestal itself seemed partially grown rather than built, as if the device had fused with the floor over centuries, rooting itself here like a living thing. Shadows flickered across the chamber walls as the crystalline elements pulsed; refracting the dim light into patterns that made the air feel almost liquid.

I knelt slightly, reaching out just enough for my abilities to sense it. The signal was sharp and insistent, much like a heartbeat trying to tug my own pulse into sync. It was not merely transmitting information. It was communicating, and however ancient or alien it's origin, it seemed aware that we were here.

Tags: Dankaia Virkenn Talyr Ivaakren Hubert Starhopper Eli <redacted> The Lord of Hunger

 

[Eli <redacted>]

Something small skittered across the scorched deck plating, drawing Eli’s attention. The pilot’s cigarette had rolled to a stop near his boot. When Eli looked back, the man was on his knees, shoulders tight and breath unsteady, as if the weight of the place had dragged him under all at once.

Eli didn’t need enhanced senses to understand why. The corridors here were steeped in old fear; oppression clinging to the bulkheads like residue. Anyone with a conscience could feel it pressing in.

The pilot forced himself upright after a moment. His eyes were still distant when he retrieved the cigarette from the floor. “I don’t like it here one bit, fella…” he muttered, trying - and failing - to hide the tremor in his voice.

Eli shifted aside to give him room. “You’re not wrong,” Eli said, voice low and even. “Places like this don’t forget what happened in them.” He brushed his gloved fingers along the wall; barely a touch, but enough to feel how the cold seemed deeper than metal ought to hold. “We’re not here to linger,” he continued, "We get what we came for, then we leave before this hull decides to bury us.” He glanced back at the pilot; not judging, but just assessing. “Stay close. And if this place gets under your skin again, speak up before it gets too far.” With that, Eli moved forward, his steps steady on the fractured deck, letting the pilot follow wherever his nerves would allow.

The next step hadn’t even finished echoing when the metal beneath them groaned - long and low, like something enormous exhaling in its sleep.

Eli froze.

A heartbeat later the entire corridor shuddered sideways, a sickening, rolling lurch that sent dust streaming from the seams in the ceiling. Loose plating rattled. A dangling conduit swung like a pendulum, crackling faintly.

Eli steadied his footing, weight shifting automatically to counter the tilt. “Structural shift,” he said, more to keep the pilot calm than because the man needed the explanation. “The hull’s settling.”

Another groan reverberated through the ship; deeper this time, as though the vessel objected to their presence. The floor bucked once, sharply, then stilled again.

Eli turned his gaze upwards, checking the ceiling and the corridor ahead. No immediate collapse. No shearing plates. Just the lingering tremor of a wounded beast remembering its injuries. He glanced back at the pilot. “You still with me? Stay close,” Eli said, turning forward again. “And watch your step. This place is held together by memory and rust.” He pressed on, each footfall deliberate, listening for the next warning the ship might give.

Hubert Starhopper Talyr Ivaakren Dankaia Virkenn

 

[Dankaia Virkenn]

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Tag: Liin Terallo / Talyr Ivaakren / Hubert Starhopper / Eli <redacted>

"My reasons for poking around this derelict Star Destroyer were born out of pure curiosity; an impulse that would've earned me a month of disapproving lectures back when I was a Jedi Knight," Dankaia said with a wry twist of her mouth. "But that's a story for another Star Destroyer adventure, preferably one that isn't actively trying to spook us."

Dankaia moved in wary silence, her thoughts a low, electric murmur beneath the hum of the derelict warship. Why in all fractured star-maps had her nav computer locked onto this planet on its own? She hadn't touched a single coordinate, hadn't even been thinking of this world; and yet the ship had dropped from hyperspace like it was obeying an order she never gave.

Now here she was, stalking through the marrow of a dead Star Destroyer, shadows pressing close, old circuitry whispering in languages that had no right to still exist and a signal that needed to be shutdown properly. The deeper she walked, the more she felt as though something had pulled her here, not by accident, not by error, but by intention, ancient and patient, waiting for her to notice the threads tightening around her.

Dankaia stepped into the chamber, and the air changed, as if the atmosphere itself paused to watch her. At the center stood the signal, a crystalline lattice of unknown alloy and strange geometry, resting upon a pedestal that looked grown rather than forged. Its surface was smooth in some places, ridged in others, like the bark of a metallic tree coaxed upward by careful, artificial evolution.

Tiny arcs of energy skittered around the signal and the pedestal alike, blue-white threads weaving in restless, silent loops that illuminated the chamber in pulses. The floor hummed beneath her boots, resonating with each flicker, as though the entire structure was breathing in slow, mechanical rhythm as the other Woman; ever fearless, ever too curious, had already knelt beside the pedestal, tracing the arcs with her eyes as if trying to memorize their pattern.

Dankaia circled the structure, fingertips hovering just above its surface, close enough to feel the temperature shift with each passing spark. She leaned in, studying the organic curves where metal should have been molded, noting the faint, almost skeletal branching beneath the top layer. No welds. No seams. No maker's mark. A pedestal born, not built. "This wasn't placed here," she murmured, half to herself, half to the trembling air.

"Now that we've found the source, what's our first step in shutting it down before it broadcasts our coordinates to every set of hungry eyes in the galaxy?" Dankaia said, glancing between them with a grim half-smirk. "Because the kind of attention this thing invites isn't the pleasant kind, not unless you enjoy being hunted."

Spoiler: Loadout

• Cybernetics / Bionics
  • Left Hand
  • Cybernetic Brain Chip
  • Cybernetic Heart
  • Cybernetic Spine
  • Cybernetic Rib Cage