Drifting

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A quiet distress signal came from the deeper parts of space around Telos. It originated just on the edge of the system, and the signal with which it transmitted was dangerously weak. With each hour, that signal declined further. It was a small blip in an area where no souls traveled, for there was nothing there, save the signal.


The source floated dead in space. Its hull was potmarked with charred metal and holes the size of your average speeder. The engines had long since died, and the occasional dark shape floated around it like a ring around a gas giant--they were in the shape of bodies, twisted and broken; left to the cold vacuum of space.

It was a transport of sorts, unlike anything commonly employed by most beings. The few weapons it possessed were primitive and ineffective against anything the average smuggler flew. no visible marking were shown along its durasteel skin, and it possessed only one visible hanger. The ship itself was a bit larger than the average transport, and could have been mistaken for an exploration ship or a scouting vessel were it not for the meager shielding and the primitive technology. From the look of it, one could even question if it carried a hyperdrive or not.

A scan would show one singular life form hidden deep in the bowls of the ship. The slightest sign of power emanated from the same area, and it seemed to be the source of the distress signal.

The craft continued to float in its dance of death, twisting and twirling in the void of space as it rolled the frozen corpse-shapes around like toys tied to strings.

[member="Strider Garon"]

 

[Strider Garon]

The distress signal forced the ancient gunship known as "Adenn'kad" out of hyperspace to investigate. The klaxon alarms forced the old mandalorian warrior out of his bunk in a haste to the possibilities of emergency or combat. Only took Strider seconds to get to the cockpit, his eyes glued to his datacom and other computer read outs. His sensors quickly marked the unknown ship as the source of the distress signal.

With a through scan for life there was only one signal to showing sign of life aboard. "Well, this could be a rescue mission or a profitible salvage op. Or both" The old man contemplated with himself. "Only one way to find out"

With that he piloted the Adenn'kad into position for boarding, extending her airlock tube to and around the other ship's airlock doors., making a perfect seal. Strider would arm and ready himself for all possible outcomes, including leaving his ship ready to bug out with slave controls. The old man covered his head with his helmet, ran through the HUDs and then made his way to board the disabled ship.

Before entering the other ship Strider made sure the Life Support was functional. with a huge thump the doors slid open exposing Garon to the ship's environment. There was no telling how long the ship had been in this condition but first thing was first. Strider would coutiously make his way down towards the life signal, making sure to keep his EE 3 carbine at the ready as he cleared room by room towards his target.

[member="Book"]

 

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Something moved within the ship, something organic. He knew it had to be, for the caretakers of the dead vessel were entirely silent. No organic could ever hope to achieve such; whether it be the beat of the heart, and quiet muffled sound of one taking a breath, and the occasional foot scuffing against a wall,; they could never hope to achieve perfect silence. Normally, these things would be mute to Book. He was organic as well, and the only way he knew another had arrived was his connection to the ancient ship.

He wore his combat suit like a second skin--the armor of the DG-Mark II's, and for a time, the face of the ASA's greatest soldiers. The Dreadguard had been abandoned however, and the shadow war they had been bred to combat brought to a cease fire. So many had died in that final battle....Book shuddered, and with him, the ship creaked.

Nothing would bar Garon from making his approach. Doors that seemed to have lost power months ago creaked open. Faint flickering lights came to life to guide the Mandalorian further into the ship's innards.

The interior of the ship was one massive room. It seemed to be a sleeping quarters, kitchen, training area, and recently, a fire zone. Frozen bodies floated lifelessly in the main section where gravity had been lost. All wore unique armor, though if one were to truly look, they would be able to see the unifying feature in all of them. They were all Dreadguard suits. A handful of the standard Dreadguard floated about as well, one torn in half, others with their white face plates caved in.

Yet, for all the force dead corpses, not one of their enemy's bodies could be seen. A single door led onward at the end of the room...beyond it came the distress signal.

(Apologies for taking so long to reply. Had to go to work.)

[member="Strider Garon"]

 

[Strider Garon]

Strider was on full alert as he swept past the numerous lifeless bodies of the former Dreadguard. There was evidence of foul play but no evidence of the culprit so Garon kept his senses on full, his weapon up as he marched forward and prepared for the unknown. The old warrior gain access through the door with relative ease and pushed forward futher into the belly of this horror show.

The signal was getting stronger, Garon's heart beat was racing with anticipation. Was this a trap? Will this be the end of the hound of keldabe? Maybe best to turn back now and feth it all.......

"Nut up!" The warrior hissed at himself, re focusing his mind on the task at hand and not letting it float into fear and panic. He was a warrior's warrior, he was above silly emotions too damn old to acting like a pup. But, then again he was human and fear was a useful tool. It kept you alert an alert kept you alive.

He moved through the door towards the signal, EE-3 carbine at the ready to lay waste to any threats that may appear.

[member="Book"]

 

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The doors parted without any resistance. Whatever still controlled the dead ship wanted Garon to come; wanted him to dive into the belly of the twisted metal wreck.

The room he found himself was much smaller than the first. Blood stained the silver floors and part of the walls, yet no bodies could be seen. A single used bed was tucked into the corner of the room flanked by cabinets and a dresser.

Someone lived here.

Then, from the darker corner of the room, something stirred. Only then would the figure be visible. Armored in a manner similar to the other Mark-II's, but most certainly alive. It stood up well over two meters, and it turned about slowly toward Garon.

It's face and gender were hidden by the armor well, and thus, it had anonymity here. Wordlessly, it tilted its head forward in some kind of greeting.


[member="Strider Garon"]

 

[Strider Garon]

Strider's ancient but trust worthy EE-3 blaster carbine pounced up and braced against the inside of the old warriors shoulder, combat ready. Garon was an old grizzled veteran of many wars and battles. He knew how to handle himself and keep his cool under extreme and weird circumstances. "On your knees, hands clasped behind your head!" He would command and test the what ever he was's compliance. Strider had no idea who or what this thing was, let alone what threat it was to him. He gave basic orders, if such were not obeyed the consequences would be "DO IT NOW, OR DIE!"

[member="Book"]

 

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The figure simply stood for a moment. Its shoulders rolled, and the head tilted back in some sort of challenge. The hands at its sides balled into fists. "Salvager," It grunted, the voice unmistakably male.

Regardless, he complied for the moment. Book went down on his knees, and stuck his hands behind his head. He might have stood a chance against a single soldier--his shields were charged, and if he sprinted, he might make it before Garon could burn through his armor. Still, at this range, he wasn't going to be the one to test that theory. Besides, he had called for assistance, and it was rather rude to bite the hand that fed you.

"As you say."


[member="Strider Garon"]

 

[Strider Garon]

Good, good! The soldier was obeying commands. This was a good start to ending an escalated situation and getting to the bottom of this. Strider would not move closer, he did not have backup to keep overwatch if he wanted to place restraints on the suspect. Instead he would have to use his verbal skills and come up with his own conclusions of his heighten curiosity.

"I boarded answering a distress call! Were you the one that made that call?" He would inquire, keeping his senses sharp and his 360 degree of view aided incrediblly with the process. His HUD sensors were on high alert, with IFF tracking set to movement just in case there was more to this story then what has been discovered thus far. "And what the fek happened here?"

[member="Book"]