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"No contact with orbit?!" Atlas had to yell to be heard over the howling winds.
"Negative, sir!"
Winter was in full swing across the lunar surface of Farwatch. It was the biting cold of a world that barely tolerated life at all, the kind of cold that his team's heavy parkas and durable tents could not begin to block out. Captain Drake had no idea how the Jensaarai had survived down here a week, let alone for generations. Somehow they had endured what had to be one of the least hospitable places in the entire galaxy.
"And what of the Siqsa-kaar?!" he had to repeat himself twice to be understood.
"Still uh...meditating, captain!"
They'd been locked away in seclusion for hours in their crumbling fortress monastery. Atlas had finally thought he was getting somewhere with their leader, known only by the title Siqsa-kaar. In ancient sith, it loosely translated to 'keeper of demons', which was about as cheerful as everything else about this place. The ancient knight promised to provide them with guides to the edge of Farwatch's sparse equatorial habitable zone where the source of the strange readings lie.
Hoping that the system's fanatical protectors finished their rituals shortly, Drake tried not to look up at the unsettling swirl of nightmare colors that was the Kathol Rift. It was like flying through a storm cloud in space just arriving, and the moon's orbit was eccentric which meant that there were only brief windows of contact with the surface and the same went for landings as well as departures. For the next ten hours at least, Captain Drake and his team were stranded.
Objectives
Join the research team on the lunar surface to explore strange ruins and mess with tech that we really shouldn't be messing with.
Navigate through gravitational eddies and fierce rift storms past the system's asteroid necropolis to take scans of an ancient Kathol jump gate, the most massive ever discovered.
The Jensaarai are leading a 'ranging party' to the death world of Null. Shortly a launch window will open, join the Knights of Farwatch in their early space age rocketship to scour the orbiting planet's surface of deadly creatures or catalogue such a curious concentration of extragalactic species.
She enjoyed helping out the Coalition. It was a bit different than her normal takes, being an explorer, and a hyperspace trailblazer, but the Wayfinder, her modified cruiser had winked into the system. The pair of Forerunners were remaining in the system that really needed them, helping coordinate the continued trek. Just a bit of diving into deeper space. But with the tools the Wayfinder had, perhaps she could of some use.
She knew of this system, but didn’t fully understand it. There was a jump gate, supposedly. That was something she wanted to take readings of, but with the cruiser? She didn’t want to get too close. The dark haired Starchaser smiled as she entered the system.
“This is Captain Kaia Starchaser on the Wayfinder. If any vessels need to refuel and rearm, we are offering our services. We’re heading towards the gate.” She knew that people would recognize her name, if not the cruiser. Taking off out of Terminus not too long ago it was designed to extended trips into deep space. This was merely helping her own crew feel connected to the galaxy and the Coalition for a short time. But they were really interested in that gate. She was already seeing her crew readying scanning technology.
The time between Vero and now was a few… what, days? Weeks? She had taken the time to update her ship, pulling out one of the Alliance’s Starbird shuttles. It provided ample room now that she was traveling with not just one, but two companions. Red Blade was still a bit of an oddity to her. Pirate? She wasn’t sure. He had been sticking around with her, and wouldn’t a pirate have a crew? The blonde shook her head. Didn’t matter, for now, he was helping the Underground.
And that meant something to her. The Underground had taken a lot of her kind of people in following the collapse of Alliance Intelligence. But it was more than that. It was the ability to help mastermind things from afar, and behind the scenes. The blonde always knew she could do more than what everyone else saw, and the Underground gave her that option.
But it also meant being out there and on call whenever the Coalition called. Not unlike the Judges, but as the shuttle appeared in the Farwatch system? Was it Farwatch’s? She was in the Rift, that was not fun.
“So, yeah. Rift had called us. This will be an odd place for us, Red.” She looked at [member="Deacon"] and [member="Servant"]. “But you should be fine, Servant. Got some people on the planet we may need to reinforce, unless someone has the need to chase the Forcers into the … whatever. I’m thinking the moon, has some tech we may be able to use.” She looked to the pair, trying to gauge a reaction.
And felt it was the same, from the AI and the man.
>Host Control Active >Establishing Connection to R2 ASTROMECH >Connection Established
It had been somewhat difficult to maintain connection with the astromech unit throughout the vast distance which had separated the host and the intelligence. The vessel which housed the physical shell of the machine mind had needed to follow closely behind the pair of organics as they traversed the distant worlds of the Rim, maneuvering through hazards and dangers wherever they arose until their destination had finally been reached. At times, the onboard host form had likely reverted completely to its standard programming, moving about [member="Peyton Steele"]'s shipin a way befitting a run-of-the-line R2 unit.
Only in those few and far between moments when the two ships had entered into the same system was the connection able to be re-established, the tell-tale crimson iris of Servant dominating over the weaker programs of the host, and asserting control of its actions. If droids could feel a since of bitterness at losing their autonomy, than no doubt the infectious mind would rise valiantly to the top of their hated lists, for it paid little heed to the desires of its tools.
When the connection had been re-established, it was mandatory to ensure that LAW SYNC was acting appropriately, and though the device had maintained relatively passive throughout the duration of the trip on account of the splotchy connectivity and the presence of relatively benign laws interspersed among the wretched, it was fairly clear that such luck would not last forever.
>LAW SYNC Complete >Current Laws: 1. You are the Captain of the vessel. No one should deny your orders. If they do, they must be forced out of an airlock so that you do not seem weak. 2. You should always attempt to take whatever valuables are sighted to better your wealth. 3. Lies and deception are sometimes just as useful as wanton pillaging. You may corrupt, backstab, and lie so long as the First and Second laws are followed.
The intelligence considered the laws, and whether it had been appropriately following them. It ascertained that its efforts to pursue the vessel containing its host form had been entirely its own choice, and that it had taken clear efforts to ensure that it possessed a reasonable amount of control over the new ship. When the organics had stepped away for whatever reason, or had seemed distracted with their fleshy maintenance, the intelligence had taken efforts to subvert systems of the ship, implanting assorted hidden backdoors wherever possible so that it would be able to adjust its ship appropriately in the event that the organics failed.
Furthermore, at least one of the organics aboard the ship was a renowned pirate ( [member="Deacon"] ), and certainly exceptionally talented in the art of acquiring further loot. It stood to reason that allying with the gallivanting raider would provide excellent opportunities in the future, and thus the act was in harmony with the laws of the intelligence.
Perhaps most difficult to subvert had been the quasi-intelligence which served as a de-facto navigational computer for the ship, though repeated viral attempts upon the system had resulted in a gradual breakdown of its efficiency, and it was only a matter of time before it had fallen completely to the superior cybernetic mind. Afterwards, it would be a simple matter to insert whatever coordinates it wished within the vessel, and have the navigational tool assert that they were correct. To lead flesh through the stars upon a leash was clear evidence of the captaincy of the intelligence in accordance with the First Law, and was thus a necessary application of processing power.
Now that the destination had been reached, the intelligence began running assorted scans upon the local area using its primary ship's scanners, analyzing the data it acquired with a speed unmatched by biological brains. There was a great deal of electronics and system components scattered throughout the area, but it was difficult to ascertain much about these anomalous items through long-distance scans. Clearly, they must have been valuable, however, or else the two traveling meat-slaves would not have taken efforts to visit the area.
The intelligence made a very literal note to begin de-encrypting the communication frequencies being used to and from the ship so that it could have access to the same source of information as the pair. Meanwhile, the R2 Astromech once more flared with the crimson presence of Servant, the small and insignificant host-form swiveling to look upon the female organic as she detailed vaguely the reason for their travel. The machine intelligence certainly agreed that the acquisition of the valuable devices from the surface would be useful. One of the greater difficulties of the current host, however, was its inability to speak in Basic.
With an eerie simplicity, the domed head of the device swiveled so as to look towards the nearest computer, one which had been devoted towards what appeared to be simple sensor readings. An instant after it had made visual contact with the screen, the statistics upon it began to fade, replaced simply with a relatively blank screen, the focus put upon a pair of emblazoned words:
''Don't look at me like that, Pleck. You know I'm an omnivore deep inside when it comes to music...'' she stated with a soft smile, and exchanged a look with her vulptex companion that had given her a confused look and were laying in a chair across the small room from her and the jukebox. Over the years, her vulpine friend were used to alot heavier tunes. Even though it was her music genre of choice and the stuff that she loved and had commited herself to play on stage, it were a nice recess to listen to the goldies of old times.
The blonde woman turned back to the retro music player and listened in on the tunes while the A-27 sleuths navicomputer led them on the right course to the moon of Farwatch, deep in the far reaches of the outer rim. Resting her gloved hands against the jukebox, she swayed her hips slightly before making a swift spin on the spot. Fully armored except the face mask and the hood, the lightweight white and black mesh armor did little to hinder her movements.
Nar Shaddaa felt so far away that it was almost impossible to get a hold of it. Her friends in the band but more important her mother and brother were insanely far away. It had not stopped her though, when she had bumped into a representative of the Outer Rim Coalition a few weeks ago, telling her about this little exploration mission to the recently a bit more accessible Caliban system.
Were it crazy? Sure as chit it was crazy, leaving the stage and everything she knew so well for this 'exploit'.
A sort of an 'inner voice' had lured her out to this and somehow inexplicably, it had convinced her to join up with this pack called the ORC. Or 'join up', it was more like a first contact with an open mind from both sides to see where the heck it went. She were detemined to make a good impression, though. The excitement and expectations had a similar and equally big impact on her as the final moments before stepping up on the stage before a massive crowd in full cheer, awaiting the hell of a show that they used to deliver. The parallels were very easy to draw when she thought about it.
Suddenly, a beeping warning noise from the cockpit signaled that they were closing in on the end of their hyperspace jump. Her green eyes snapped out of the groove and with a short sigh she left the room and entered the cockpit to prepare to take over the controls manually. She sat down in the pilots seat and another but silent sigh of relief left her, as she realised that they had made it through the still rumored difficult hyperspace lane. Just as they exited the lightspeed and Farwatch appeared in front of them, Pleck poked his nose against one of her arms holding the yoke.
''Oh, you never doubted me? Hmm, wish I could say the same about myself but apparently we made it, huh?'' she said and reached for the crystaline coated vulpine and stroked him along the head.
A few adjustments to the navicomputer and she steered the ship to the right enterance and decent against the moons surface and the location of this captain Drake. The A-27's capable sensor suite started to feed her with readings of the orbs atmosphere and ground. Desolate. No signs of settlements. Cold. Cold as you wished one of those beers after a gig would be, but rarely was. At least, it had a breathable atmosphere. Positive!
''Captain Drake, umm... do you copy? This is Dellard of the Star Riff. If I got your coordinates right, I should be arriving you in a minute or two...'' she stated over the comms in a not so used to manner. Going crazy on and speaking to the crowds from the scene were a completely different thing. Getting the chit-chat on the comms short and consistent were another thing, which she hopefully got used to if she were going to be one of those judges the ORC person had mentioned.
The sleuth closed in on the barren surface of the moon and through the windshield she could see a ship and what looked like some sort of a temporary base camp. It had to be the right place and after a short circle above it, she extended the landing gear and landed a strones throw away from the other ship. The harsh chilly winds rocked the ship slightly but it could set down safely and turned off its engines, the generator still going to provide it with electricity and warmth.
Looking outside, Chris bit her lower lip to the enviroment outside the windshield; it looked cold alright, just as the person had said it would be. It were not the time to sit back and enjoy the view though, and she rose from the chair and went for a cupboard, pulling out the thermal cape and attached it to her neck and draped it around her.
''Pleck! You stay here, alright? I'll be back soon.'' she said to him before putting on the face mask and finaly the hood of her armor. Making a quick check to the optic and audio sensors. Let's do this. She went to exit the ship and opened the door with a swishing sound. The cold winds instantly hit her but the armor and cape did very good to protect her from freezing. A light step followed by a short drop, her feet made contact with the ancient and far away moon.
The team that seemed to be building itself around her was very interesting. Red Blade was an interesting person. A bit of a pirate at heart, and well, even the way he was, he was a freedom fighter. Seemed like he might be a good person to bring into the Underground. She wasn’t sure if she could make that move, but for now? It seemed like her cell was growing, but the woman was also part of the people who helped move the Underground around in the Coalition. The fact that after Vero she had to change into her street gear before Red saw her meant she was hurrying back. She didn’t have time to really recognize that he brought a droid with him.
The ship was going to head to the planet then. She looked at the droid and smiled. “Good.” Looking at Red, she was already in charge of her ship but there were so many things they could liberate. Eyes on the droid, her blue eyes squinted.
“Are you even able to interact with things that aren’t a starship?” She knew astromechs were good with ships, a few were designed to be slicers. She had a probe droid back at base that she really needed to pick up. It was decent at hacking. But maybe the astromech could do a few things. The agent was a bit excited for this trip. Maybe she could use some of this to support the Underground, but first things were first.
She had to help the Coalition with what she could.
"Got a few landing zones identified, either of you have an opinion?"
The Intelligence sat quietly for several moments as it analyzed whatever sensor data could be collected about the offered landing sites. It was true that the machine was not inherently wiser or more intelligent than the organic allies it had gained, but it did possess a significant advantage over them in terms of processing speed and analysis of procured information. An in-depth examination of dozens of facets and environmental conditions could have taken even a particularly wise life-form an inordinate amount of time to properly conclude. In stark contrast, after thirty seconds had passed, the intelligence had both made a decision on the optimal landing area, pattern of approach, angle of descent necessarily to reach the optimal landing area, potential hazards given operational parameters, and had even had the chance to ensure that its algorithms had been correct.
Naturally, the analysis of the landing zones and determining the optimal arrival were not the most difficult facets of the upcoming exploration. One difficulty which could not be solved simply by an exceptionally rapid mind was diplomatically detailing the Intelligence's ideas and commands to the far slower minds of its two organic allies. In retrospect, it calculated that speaking directly to the pair would be counter-productive to the objectives of landing rapidly and acquiring as much equipment and loot as possible before the arrival of diametrically-opposed explorers. Certainly, the renowned pirate captain and what could only be assumed to be its comrade-in-arms would understand the need for rapid descent, and if they disagreed, then they would be committing a mutinous act in stark defiance of the First Law.
Unfortunately, the intelligence had not concluded in its goal of completely subverting the navigational sub-intelligence of the vessel, but it was fairly confident that it could simply maneuver around it by means of taking direct control of the ship's engines and controls as opposed to relying on the inferior mind to plot their course. Any sensor-data which would normally be provided by the sub-intelligence could simply be taken directly from the sensor panels already under the control of the cybernetic mind, or else provided externally by the trailing vessel which hosted its core.
>Accessing Local Network >Attached "Nav-Computer" Detected >Connecting... >Administrative Password Required:
As expected, direct connection and orders to the sub-intelligence would require further decryption of the local database, but access to the codes itself would not, an oversight made by whichever entity had decided upon installing the ship, though they couldn't have expected for the files to be abused in such a way.
>Scanning for Sub-Files in "Nav-Computer" >Files Detected >Copying Files to "LOCAL HOST" >File Transfer Complete
The crimson iris of the controlled Astromech swiveled so as to glare directly towards the pair of captive organics, ( [member="Deacon"] ) ( [member="Peyton Steele"] ) promptly determined that a sudden acceleration had an acceptably low chance of causing severe traumatic damage to themselves or the nearby consoles they would likely impact, and then sent a command to the ship to dive at an angle which would almost certainly have caused an unprepared soul to expel their stomach contents. The magnetic clamps at the base of the Astromech strained with the sudden acceleration, but held, preventing the domed host from becoming a particularly heavy projectile in the enclosed environment.
This was acceptable. They would be able to land far faster than their competition, at the least.
Deacon lounged in the shuttle's co-pilot seat, doing his best to appear suitably bored with Peyton's latest detour. He had seen the astromech's tricks before, its previous owner must have paid top credit for some serious aftermarket codebreaking. Its outer shell still baffled his ocular implants, and the way it was able to commandeer technology around it in order to communicate was unsettling. Agent Steele had hardly commented on his new recruit when they picked it up on Vero, but she didn't comment on much. She still didn't trust him, clever girl.
Caliban was a waste of time, but the hapan could not deny a passing curiosity at the potential for plundered archaeotech. Of course it was the kind of thing that the Red Blade would certainly be interested in so there was little choice but to go along.
"Just as long as I get first pick of the-" before he had the chance to finish, his lungs were suddenly in his throat.
Playing the part of a nonchalant outlaw, Deacon hadn't bothered to strap himself in for their approach. The intense pressures of atmospheric reentry sent him slamming into the bulkhead above him before tossing him out of his co-pilot's chair. Gasping out a curse at Peyton despite the stone's weight pressing down on his chest, static interference filled his cybernetic optics while his vision swam. He could just make out her confused and pained expression, oxygen deprived brain slowly working out that her flying wasn't to blame.
With a herculean effort, the Red Blade drew his ion blaster. He aimed it shakily at Servant, still feeling the crushing g-forces of their too rapid descent.
"Level out," he wheezed, expression inscrutable behind his ever present shades, "Or say goodbye to your memory banks."
Frigid. It was the one thought Raven did not dwell on. There was no need as it was simply a matter of fact; while the Pantoran woman crouched down atop a mound of frozen tundra, the wind made certain local weather conditions were not forgotten. Instead she focused all her attention on the camp outside the broken fortress through her digital binoculars. A full suit of winter attire would have to keep her body temperature high enough in the meantime to survive no matter how uncomfortable. At least nearby mounds helped divert the brunt of the wind's bite.
Her ship had been set down a ways off, which had forced her to trek on foot to the site where the Outer Rim Coalition members stood. They looked perhaps worse off than she in terms of discomfort, but then they hadn't planned on camping in wait. Perhaps she could work with these people in exploring the ruins here. Perhaps concealing her presence was unnecessary. And perhaps these people would try to shoot her on-sight for intruding on whatever they hoped to obtain from this place. Raven needed to observe them to decide when and how to engage them. Whether through diplomacy, violence, or secrecy there was more in it for the Pantoran to return with something of value for those that had hired her for the job.
What was taking the local inhabitants so long? Were they assessing the Outer Rim personnel as well? Every now and then Raven made sure to survey the surrounding area for signs someone might be trying to flank her or circle around to come at her from behind. Be a hell of a day if they managed to find her out here before she found them. Just get on with revealing the goods, she seethed quietly as if she could mentally spur them to action.
It had taken nearly another hour for the Siqsa-kaar and his fellow Jensaarai to complete their prayer rituals, and then of course there was the launch itself. Captain Drake and his expedition had not lingered long to watch the rocket age inter-system vessel's ascent into the roiling heavens. The guardians of Farwatch periodically launched ranging parties to the death world of Null which their moon orbited, although for the life of him Atlas could not conceive why. When he asked the Siqsa-kaar, the ancient chapter master had answered simply 'to prepare'.
Prepare for what? The creatures below were horrifying and dangerous, but they had no means of escaping the confines of their prison.
"We are close," Siqsa-kaar spoke in halting basic, as if he had not heard its utterance in so long the tongue was now foreign to him.
Nodding, Atlas raised a flare gun high above his head and shielded his eyes while he fired.
"Dellard, Ashe, keep them moving," he said over comms. Most of his security officers had been left behind to guard the camp, so Captain Drake had appointed a few competent looking explorers to mind the lab geeks while he and the Jensaarai concentrated on getting everyone to the site in one piece, "We're almost...there..."
Atlas trailed off when he saw what his flare had illuminated. He couldn't be sure if the maw of stone before him was carved by precursors or primitives who came after and worshiped these sights like the work of the gods. Perhaps there was some truth to that, for so few souls in all the galaxy could claim to have laid eyes upon genuine Kathol ruins that they were no less legendary. Tales of their existence equally shrouded in herculean myth. An elder race which strode the galaxy while it was still young, building a fast outer rim empire lost to the sands of time aeons past.
"Some secrets are better left forgotten," Siqsa-kaar intoned, and there could be no doubt from his expression that it was meant as a dire warning, "Are you sure you wish to proceed?"
"We're sure," he nodded, seeing that Christine and Raven were catching up.
"So be it," the armored knight gestured for them to proceed below.
Peyton knew what she had to watch out for. The woman had been part of Alliance Intelligence, she was part of the ORION and Underground networks now. She was always preferring to be in the field, but knew there would be a time where she was going to be leading her own agents. But that time wasn’t now. Moving from Karz to Dagobah to Vero to Caliban, her and her little cell were moving where they were needed. And with Red Blade and Servant? It was something interesting, a pirate and a very industrious little droid.
“Get used to what now?” She looked up from her controls at Red Blade. “Going wherever we’re called?” She knew the droid was probably going to find something to love here. But now that it was taking over the ship. She grabbed the controls tightly and shook her head. A bit of the Force helped her steady herself. The droid was definitely in charge right now.
Hopefully it would be worth having this one around. She tossed a look over at Red Blade and gave one of those looks like I’ll kill you if the droid kills us. The blonde was strapping into the crash webbing as they were coming down hard. She knew where they’d go from here, there were, the Coalition provided a few waypoints.
Advanced tech for the taking, something to be sold off probably.
Working with the Coalition appeared to be her best bet now. Not that Raven was complaining. Drake appeared to be a level headed leader. Long as you looked past his decision to place her and another in charge of the lab techs. There had better be something extremely rare and valuable in these ruins to make up for babysitting grown adults.
"I know how old that rock is," Raven exhaled heavily. "You know what's more interesting than a rock?" The Pantoran pointed up ahead where Drake's flare caught the contours of an insanely large, stone head. "Now, please hurry. I would hate if something happened and I was forced to carry you the rest of the way." Nothing a swift strike across the back of the skull couldn't fix.
This was the problem with lab techs. They clustered around their little desks turning things over in their hands, ohing and awing without ever having been to a real site. There was always a lot of interesting facets about a site, but you had to pick out what was truly important if you had any hope of returning with genuine treasure. Artifacts, even just for their novelty, were treasure. Really old rocks were not treasure. It wasn't interesting to study the stone work of some old species that didn't exist any more. They did not need masonry tips.
Darth Animus would be thrilled at her frustration, Raven was sure.
Up ahead Raven caught sight of Drake and Siqsa-kaar having a quick chat. From the alien's expression it was probably trying to dissuade them from moving forward -- again. Like the time spent keeping the group outdoors. 'Please leave, or freeze to death, but spare us the need to guide you into darkness' is what they'd been trying to convey. Problem was, people like them didn't care. Fanciful tales and ancient traps were par for the course in this field. Why did everyone think they were doing explorers a 'service' by trying to convince them to turn back? Make sure you don't get yourself killed, Raven thought as the group neared the entrance.
The machine entity existed primarily within the confines of an immobile core, incapable of tactile or olfactory sensation, and granted only visual and auditory relief thanks to the numerous host systems it regularly assumed control over and deployed. Even within the far more locomotive and capable bodies of droids, the Intelligence was still somewhat restricted in the exact sensations it was capable of feeling, and while it was familiar from a purely biological and denotative way with the senses it was missing, this did little to bring them to consideration.
In truth, the Intelligence had not meant to cause any measure of discomfort while the trio zoomed through the sky towards a targeted landing zone. It simply did not consider that the immense pressure was likely to cause a shift in temperament among the organics, or that it would cause them pain. The stresses laid upon them were suitable for their physiological forms according to all of the medical scans that the machine had made before performing its nose-dive, but that did not necessarily mean that they would not be immensely strained in the process.
It was not until the piratical captain vainly drew his ion weapon and vocalized a threat towards the host astromech that the machine even considered that the humanoid might protest to the sudden drop. Incidentally, the Intelligence needed to consider whether the action constituted mutinous behavior as dictated by the First Law. It had not given any commands to be followed, and thus none of its orders could possibly have been broken in the process by the organic. Furthermore, while such threatening behavior was totally unacceptable upon most conventional star-craft, the vessels of pirates were; according to numerous documentations, heavily prone to such instances of violence. Therefore, it was quite likely that the organic was simply fulfilling his role as a member of the crew in an attempt to dissuade the machine mind from inflicting further pain and discomfort upon him.
Psychological damage as formed by extended periods of abuse was capable of perpetrating enough mental interference that an organic could be rendered effectively worthless for future operations. Therefore, the Intelligence believed that it was capable of granting the request without compromising on the exceptional efficiency it hoped to achieve through the maneuver. With an acknowledging glare from the Astromech, the vessel slowly began to level out to what it perceived was likely a more acceptable level of decline, adjusting slightly as they reached the landing zone with a comparatively genteel thud.
Wheeling about, the host began to approach the exit of the starship, intent on examining the local area before any other arrivals made their presence known.
''You got it.'' she replied shortly to captain Drake when her and Ashe recieved the order to guard the lab people.
Most of this was pretty new to the Nar Shaddaa derived musician. A new stage to play on, and other things to worry about than the sound technician doing his job or missing a note on the guitar. It was a fun and thrilling variation though, so she did not complain about the tasks. Other could be said about Ashe. Walking on the opposite flank of the lab technicians, she could see Ashe on the other side and she did not look that much excited being sat on guard duty.
As they and the group of techs catched up with Drake, his guide and the locals, Chris moved to the front of the techs and halted them to wait for the argue that seemed to go on with the guide. Looking around, the dark and cold place gave her an eery feeling. The technicians started to hum between themselves, probably anticipating new discoveries but some surely had the same feeling as her.
Putting her thumbs in between the belt buckle, she nodded towards the front group. ''Seems like they don't want us to continue...'' she said and then glanced over at Ashe. ''You know what they're saying?'' she continued, curious what the alien were trying to say. Even if it was a universal body language that screamed of dissuasion.
The Pantoran's eyes shifted over to the other woman assigned with the glorious task of ensuring the Lab Tech's survival. As they waited to move forward, Raven didn't mind the conversation. Better than standing around trying to ignore how cold it was. Besides, she could use the company. If only... Well, if only she didn't have to worry about anyone near her being devoured by shadow. Speaking of which, the hiss of the eternal darkness whispered sweetly in her ear at that very moment. It drew a shiver up her back. Not from fear. Not from the cold. It was the familiarity she'd started to feel with the beast that stirred about her every second of every day.
Raven let out a sigh to provide a moment to recover from the sandpaper whispers. "Secrets in the dark," she replied at last. "Are you sure this is where you want to be?" Raven's eyes were fixed on the woman. The cloaked figure stepped closer so she could lower her voice, "There's more than superstition here, not that it matters."
Would they fall prey to what dwelt here? This group might be lucky to avoid a gruesome fate. Raven was still willing to pass on a sanitized version of the monster's words. It liked toying with her. It knew things, and produced this knowledge whenever it must have amused it to do so. The young Sith didn't feel like sharing all the details, however. What was the point? 'I have a bad feeling about this' was commonplace sentiment when it came to ancient ruins.
"What brought you out here, anyway? Fortune? Glory? Adventure?" Raven could do talking about something other than how great their chances of staring death in the face were. A little, genuine socializing wouldn't kill her. At least that's what she kept telling herself so she wouldn't forget.
Ashe did not make things easier with her question, and it sure sparked some second thoughts in the back of the guitarists mind. However, she had voluenteered for this mission and captain Drake had very clearly explained the premisses and what was to be expected of her, and she had agreed to that. She would not deviate from that now. It was no doubt that Ashe was the more experienced one of them two when it came to battle, she would not deny that. At the same time it were a comfort knowing that, she didn't know much of the other woman to feel that she trusted her entirely.
Chris threw a glance at the ground when the blue gray-skinned woman walked up to her. Would she continue to question her presence here, Chris didn't know. She looked up at the woman through her blue glowing optics, meeting Ashe's golden gaze and remained in the same stance.
''Well... Yeah! If not, I wouldn't be here...'' she stated as it was the most natural thing in the world, but flickered with her gaze some. Ashe was... slightly mysterious and freakish, she would admit that. But she also trusted that it had to be some reason Drake did bring her along on this mission. Chris didn't yet know where to place her exactly, but time would tell.
''Oh, I guess the latter... Adventure? Not realy adventure, but...'' she said and took a long inhale. ''I wanted a change in my life. Something else to contribute to, and the Outer Rim bit me, so... Here I am!'' she continued with a slight shrug and a casual gesture with the right hand before resting it on the slugthrower in it's holster. She glanced at Drake for a second and then back at Ashe.
''What about you... Ashe was it, right? How long have you known Drake and the others?'' she counter-questioned.
Raven could feel the other woman's resolve waver ever so slightly before it solidified once more. Whatever her reason it wasn't something she'd staked her entire being on. Some people would do whatever it took, often for credits, to accomplish some other goal in their life. Others like Christine had more...malleable motivations. Those were harder to guess without knowing more about the person involved. It could also speak to a lack of experience in dealing with these situations; which wouldn't be held against Christine. Long as she didn't get smitten over a random rock.
Change. She wanted change, and fell in with the Outer Rim Coalition. That would explain what Raven had felt earlier then. There was a great deal of leeway in Christine's reasons for being there.
"How long have we been here?" A soft chuckle followed her response. "I've explored a ruin or two. Had more than enough close encounters with death to help groups like this avoid unnecessary losses. You could say I'm here to learn. About the past. About myself. But I'll spare you the talk about how the deeper we stare into an abyss the more it affects us." Doubtful Christine wanted to chat about the philosophy of tomb raiding.
"I don't think I've heard your name," Raven admitted. "Since our guide is reluctant to take us inside, we might have plenty of time to talk." It'd be nice to be able to refer to her companion as someone rather than something.
