The Unforgiven
CODIA SYSTEM
PRISON SHIP "GUARDIAN"
So god damn cold.
It was the first thought that Fenn had- since he woke up. The last thing he remembered, and the details were fuzzy, was the sound of a stun blaster, and the blue ring that shot around him, near him. It knocked him off his feet, and that was the last thing he remembered. He woke up, looking at a reflection of himself. His hair was the same, and he still had the paint under his eyes from his armor. He went to move his arm- but found it detached.
Someone took his prosthetic arm. Whoever they were, that is. From inside his pod, he could see red lights and other pods, blinking green, some red. He looked around for a moment, collecting himself. From what he could tell, he was uninjured, and still wearing most of his armor. His weapons were stripped away, but his compression suit and the armor on his legs and arm was still attached. The chestplate, shawl, jetpack and helmet were all missing, however.
Not a good time.
He grit his teeth and pressed his knee against the glass, forcing the beskar against it. It was either duraplex or transparisteel- but buckled under the force of his leg pushing against it with beskar. He wished, at the moment at least, he was like his father- a prosthetic leg would have been more beneficial than a prosthetic arm in the pod. He forced it open, and a loud hiss escaped as the seals were broken. The door didn't fly open or move rapidly. There was simply no gravity, and it just stood silent.
And he immediately could not breathe, frost forming over his face. He didn't take in a deep breath, and simply stopped breathing. He only had a few precious moments to figure out a solution, which conveniently was on the wall near him. No gravity, either- he knew that as soon as he pulled himself out of the pod, the door pushing away silently. Emergency supplies, to include a depressurization kit. Which meant that the captors were at least humanoid, breathing oxygen. At least he had that much to go off of. He donned the mask and headgear, clearing it by blowing out before breathing a ragged, sharp breath.
No pain, for the time being. No broken ribs, no pain besides the usual phantom limb pains. He looked around the pod area, with some pods blinking green and red, some completely red. The lights on the ship were emergency lights only, some red, some more yellow in color. He narrowed his eyes, keeping himself steady with one hand as he floated around to get a better look at the pods after pushing himself off of the wall.
The people inside the pods were like him, in various states of dress and species. He stopped near six that had failed, with the occupants dead inside. They were wearing prisoner garb of some kind, marked with an Imperial logo on the breast pocket.
He was on a prison ship, and sold, or being transported somewhere. Cryocycle pods. Probably the safest way to transport dangerous people. Put them in a pod, turn it on, and they wake up in a new prison. No fuss, no fights, no worrying about food, water, save for the crew. He narrowed his eyes, planting his feet on the deck as best he could, gripping onto a railing.
Fenn's eyes darted around, and he moved back to the emergency equipment locker, trying to piece together what he could find. A flashlight was helpful- but with one hand, it was hard to wield. He tucked it under his vambrace, giving him freedom with his hand and a way to light his path.
He pointed it around the room, grimacing.
How long had he been in here?
Where was he?
Last edited:
