First Reply Friends In the Dark

[Amos Bel]

Dead Space - The Uyerra

This wasn't his ship.

Thank fuck for that, this thing was about as shit as they could come. An old hauler, something from off world one of those fancy New-Corps made. Amos was thankful he hadn't paid for it, what with the giant hole now settled into it's belly. No one would be fixing that. Least not without a drydock and a whole lot of engine grease. Nice bit of salvage though, for anyone honestly enterprising or not.

Which was sort of the point. That along with what was sitting in the cargo bay.

"She's bright as twin suns settin' over old Tatooine sand,
And when she smiles, even stars quit their shine on command."

Amos sang to himself as he floated through the cockpit, his eyes flickering to the sensors every now and again as he let out a yawn. Fingers drawing over his hair as he made himself a bit more presentable to whomever had decided to show up. Fingers drawing over the back of his seat as he pulled himself towards the console, flickering off the emergency signal so that no one else would show up.

"She moves like a starship driftin' soft through the night,
With a heart that could tame any ol' fool in sight."

As his voice drifted, he flicked another switch, this one for the comms-relay. "'Morning folks, Mighty thankful you decided to stop on by. Mind if I catch your names?"

The man asked casually, leaning back as he took the headset with him.

 

[Laphisto]

Laphisto's reply hit the open channel a moment after Amos finished speaking, the returning voice a low, steady rumble threaded with the faint distortion of a warship's communications suite coming online. It was the kind of voice that carried weight even through static calm, measured, and unmistakably accustomed to command. "High Commander Laphisto of the Lilaste Order, aboard the Tracyn," he said, projecting with crisp clarity that filled the cockpit of the gutted hauler. "Your distress beacon cut through our patrol grid. Looks like you've gotten yourself into quite a situation out here."

The pause that followed wasn't hostile, just analytical someone reviewing sensor feeds as he spoke, taking stock piece by piece. "Your hull's sheared open at midships, stabilizers are nonfunctional, and your reactor's hanging on by a thread. Frankly, captain, I'm surprised you're still breathing in that tub. Consider yourself fortunate we were close enough to respond."Another low hum the kind a battleship makes when its tractor arrays begin to spool up.

"We're locking onto you now. The moment your vessel stabilizes against our grav-wells, you'll have a liaison team waiting for you in the hangar. They're already prepping medics incase you or your crew in need of medical attention."The hum deepened into a controlled vibration Amos could almost feel through the deck plating.,"Sit tight and keep your systems idle. We'll haul you in clean. Try not to jostle anything that's liable to explode on the way in."

Amos Bel

 

[Amos Bel]

Huh. Looked like there were friendly people left in the galaxy. Amos sort of felt bad, but then again it wasn't like he had a choice in all of this either. Everyone had to make their way in the galaxy, and surviving wasn't always easy. Not when you had little choice and a knife being held at your back. Proverbially speaking anyway.

"Well ain't that mighty fine of ya'." Amos said with a wide smile into the comms-aray, leaning back and wondering if he'd had good luck or bad.

This situation was going to get complicated pretty quickly, but that didn't mean it had to get bad for him. Wasn't that what was important? He was only looking out for himself after all. "I don't have many systems to idle, Hoss."

Amos answered.

"Not sure anyone else aboard is left alive, but I don't need no medic." He told the man, not wanting him to waste the resources. One of those small kindnesses he was capable of. "I'm waitin patient."

He was sure that the rest of the ship was depressurized, but as soon as he could, Amos would make his way towards whatever entrance these new fellas would greet him at.

 

[Laphisto]

Laphisto listened to the man's drawling ease with a faint, almost amused rumble deep in his chest. For all the smoke and ruin clinging to that hauler, its pilot still sounded like he was leaning on a bar counter instead of sitting inside a floating coffin. Admirable, in a way.

"Understood, captain, We'll keep medics on standby nonetheless. Protocol and all that. As for your ship what's left of it we'll see what can be salvaged. or fixed If nothing else, you'll walk off this deck with your hide intact."

He paused, glancing over the damage readouts streaming across his console. The wreck looked half a breath from collapsing into molten scrap. "Why you're drifting this far out is none of my concern, Everyone's running from something or chasing something. Makes no difference to me. Just know that hauling a dying barge through the void and keeping her from exploding takes a particular brand of skill. The Diarchy can always use haulers who don't panic under pressure. Consider that a thought to chew on, captain should you find yourself wanting steadier pay."

The tractor fields finished locking, and the dull tremor of mass being reeled toward the Tracyn vibrated through the deck.

---

By the time the crippled hauler settled onto its landing struts inside the Tracyn's massive hangar, Laphisto was already crossing the upper catwalk on his way down. The space below buzzed with activity. Amos would be met the moment he stepped out.

A medical team waited off to the side kits open, scanners warmed, but respectfully hanging back until called. Directly ahead stood several deckhands in grease-stained overalls, each with a sidearm holstered at their hip. Their posture wasn't hostile, just prepared.

And near the landing ramp, at parade rest but visibly alert, were nine soldiers in full LO-58A armor. The polished teal-blue border markings gleamed under the hangar lights, and each soldier held an LO-20D rifle across their chest with the casual familiarity of people who'd lived with the weapon longer than most lived with family.

They weren't pointing them at Amos but they were watching him. Quietly, professionally. A subtle perimeter, not a threat. Across the hangar, Laphisto descended the final steps, the sigils on his armor catching the light as he strode toward the gathering. The High Commander's voice carried easily."Welcome aboard the Tracyn, Captain. Let's see what we're dealing with."

Amos Bel

 

[Amos Bel]

Amos stepped down the landing strut without much of a care in the world. If he was worried about soldiers, the smuggler didn't show it. His hands were held loosely upward at his waist, a small smile on his face as he let his gaze flicker over the many men with rifles. Keeping his palms far away from the blaster hanging off his thigh, Amos waved as he stepped to the side.

"Feel free to explore every nook and cranny." He offered with a smile. "Ain't nuthin onboard you wouldn't expect."

Though he supposed that would depend on what they were expectin'. "Mighty thankful you decided to pick me up. Don't think I would have lasted much longer."

Not exactly true. He'd have enough oxygen, but he was worried about one thing. Particularly now that he had seen what sort of ship he was on, and the sort of thing he'd found himself involved.

"Though, I must admit rather awkwardly, I need to ask ya'll a favor." Amos flashed a smile. Already knowing this was probably going to end badly. "And understand, I need you to understand how ridiculous it'll sound when I ask."