Private The Quiet Between Worlds

[Iandre Athlea]

A faint look of consideration crossed Iandre's features at the mention of the pills. Not rejection, surprisingly, but thoughtful openness born from someone who had spent the last several days discovering the limits of endurance the hard way.

"I may take you up on that eventually," she admitted quietly. "Sleeping peacefully has been…inconsistent lately." The understatement carried enough exhaustion behind it to speak for itself.

As Judah clarified about the drifting station, her expression softened slightly with immediate understanding. "I did not mean to suggest you caused this intentionally," she said gently, one hand lightly folding over her opposite arm again beneath the soft fabric of her sleepwear. "My wording was poor."

Her gaze drifted briefly toward the debris field, scraping silently against the darkness outside, before returning to him.

"And I understand the limitations of the Force," she continued calmly. "Especially somewhere like this, surrounded by damaged systems, drifting metal, and what is likely a great deal of emptiness." A faint pause followed. "I agree there is a strong possibility I will find nothing at all." There was no disappointment in the admission. Only realism.

As the Challenger pushed deeper toward the station hangar, her attention shifted outward again. The darkness beyond the viewport seemed almost unnaturally complete now, broken only by the sweep of the ship's lights across scarred metal and drifting wreckage.

At the mention of envirosuits, she gave a small nod. "Probably wise," she murmured softly.

Then, quieter, more to herself than him: "Abandoned places rarely remain as empty as they first appear."

Whether she meant survivors, scavengers, failing systems, or ghosts of memory remained unclear as her gray eyes remained fixed on the darkened hangar ahead of them.

Judah Dashiell

 

[Judah Dashiell]

"One way to find out."

Carefully navigating the Challenger closer, Judah eased his way into a massive hangar bay. It remained dark, save for the emergency lights. They often needed little power and ran on auxiliary, so it was little surprise to him. Judging from that alone it meant this spacestation hadn't been abandoned or destroyed long, perhaps in the last two years or so. Power had yet to run out.

"Come on, this way."

He led her to the cargo hold, a row of envirosuits. Judah had his own and worked on pulling the article of clothing over his pajamas. Auxiliary power but guaranteed no oxygen.

"The second one to the end should fit you. If not feel free to experiment. I've got a few on these hooks..I'll grab a blaster just in case. Not sure what else I have that could be a weapon. Bunch of tools in these crates. I'm not overly concerned, just don't want to be taken out by a rabid mynock."

Iandre Athlea​

 

[Iandre Athlea]

Iandre followed him from the cockpit, casting one final glance toward the darkened station before stepping into the cargo hold, where the emergency lighting from the hangar filtered faintly through the Challenger's viewports, painting long shadows across the rows of equipment and storage crates. At the sight of the envirosuits, she gave a small nod of agreement. "That seems sensible."

Before reaching for one, however, she paused. "One moment," she requested quietly, her tone almost absent-minded as she disappeared briefly down the corridor toward the guest cabin she had occupied during the journey. It only took a minute before she returned carrying her lightsaber, the elegant, curved hilt resting comfortably in one hand. The familiar weapon seemed to settle something deep inside her—not because she actively expected trouble, but because the thought of stepping into an abandoned station without its weight nearby simply felt strangely wrong.

Only then did she move back toward the row of suits, her eyes tracking the specific one Judah indicated before she carefully pulled it free from the rack. "I suspect a lightsaber is excessive protection against mynocks," she observed dryly, the faintest hint of her characteristic humor touching her voice, "though perhaps reassuring nonetheless."

The heavy fabric of the suit unfolded between her hands as she examined it. Rather than immediately pulling it on over her sleepwear, however, she glanced toward Judah, who was already actively wrestling his own suit into place.

A small, thoughtful pause followed. Setting her suit aside for the moment and resting her lightsaber atop a nearby crate, she turned fully toward him. "Would you like help sealing yours?" she asked simply. There was no fuss to the offer, only pure practicality; she had worn enough environmental gear throughout her life to know that awkward seals, fastening points, and critical pressure checks always seemed to migrate toward the exact places that were impossible to reach alone. "I can finish mine afterward."

With that, she remained exactly where she was, waiting quietly for his answer before committing to either task. If he needed the assistance, she would help him secure the seals first; if not, she would turn her attention back to fitting her own suit and securing the curved hilt of her saber to the equipment harness once everything was properly airtight.

Judah Dashiell

 

[Judah Dashiell]

"Mynocks? We will be lucky if that is all we see."

Overgrown nuisances who would chew on every powercable known to mankind. He didn't see any on the way in but perhaps he just didn't spook any down from the higher portions of the hanger. His mind was already wandering towards mass suicide or hostile takeover of the vessel. Doubtful anything was alive but still the caution was warranted.

"Oh, no, I got it. Fairly used to doing it myself. Appreciated all the same."

Sealing up the last of the flaps beyond putting on his helmet and ensuring those seals. A blaster was placed on his hip, no need to have it out just yet. Overkill in his opinion when they weren't even sure of life signs on the station itself. Iandre seemed to be handling her own suit just fine and not far behind him.

Ramp went down and he descended, trying to keep his head up. Light from his headset bounced around the hangar. Nothing was unusual or out of place, the normal scattered items of an abandoned station. Carefully he walked to an access port on the wall, trying to see if a map of the station would work.

It did not.

He turned back to Iandre Athlea instead.

"Which door do you want to go through first?"

 

[Iandre Athlea]

Iandre finished securing the final seals of her suit shortly after Judah declined her offer, attaching her lightsaber to an equipment loop before settling her helmet into place. As they stepped onto the abandoned station, the atmosphere shifted immediately; it wasn't openly threatening, but it possessed a heavy, hollow emptiness that only accumulated when a place built for thousands was suddenly left to none. Her helmet light swept slowly across the hangar, illuminating scattered equipment and crates left precisely where they had been abandoned. Nothing explicitly suggested violence, yet nothing pointed to a deliberate, organized evacuation either.

When the access terminal failed to cooperate for Judah, she found herself entirely unsurprised. "That would have been too convenient," she observed with a trace of dry humor. Turning slowly, she let her gaze travel across the cavernous hangar where several dark corridors branched away into the gloom. "If I were responsible for a station this size, I would place emergency systems, communications, and operational controls somewhere reasonably central. And if there is still anyone alive aboard, I suspect they would eventually gravitate toward those same coordinates."

She paused, looking back toward him with a faint lifting at the corner of her mouth. "So either we find answers, or we become thoroughly lost together. One outcome is admittedly more useful than the other."

Matching her pace to his, Iandre waited for Judah to join her before moving toward the larger corridor. She kept him comfortably alongside her as they ventured into the dark, her light sweeping carefully across the passing bulkheads and floor markings. She wasn't actively looking for danger just yet; instead, she was searching for the subtle signs of a story, knowing that stations rarely became ghost towns without leaving a few clues behind.

Judah Dashiell

 

[Judah Dashiell]

"I actually find both useful. Central will be the controls, naturally as you mentioned. However, getting lost is also beneficial. Not many keep the more interesting things easily accessible. Not that it will deter me from coming back, I've already marked this station for salvage."

Headlamps bounced as he craned his head up, looking for any signs above the doors. One looked larger than the other, and he decided that was the more logical of the choices.

There was no big fanfare, he moved closer and worked his fingers in-between, pushing the two apart. There was little sense to try to see if they were automatic, power did not seem to be strong enough to open them if it was flowing.

Greeted with a corridor, he paused to listen. Wide, it was clearly a thoroughfare for the station.

"Main entrance it seems. Let's move forward. You would probably be better at myself at detecting signs of a battle."

He was capable. Carbon scoring, blaster and tool marks, gutted wires were all signs he used. Yet it was wise to ensure Iandre Athlea felt useful and not third wheeling on some work trip.

Because he knew instantly this had dissolved to a work side quest.

 

[Iandre Athlea]

Iandre stepped through the doorway beside him, her headlamp sweeping the corridor in a slow arc. Emergency lights threw everything in red and amber, stretching shadows across the walls. For a moment, she just stood there, taking it in. These places always had stories to tell, if you knew how to read them.

"You've probably walked through a lot more abandoned stations than I have," she said. "If something feels off here, I'd believe your instincts over mine."

She moved forward at a steady pace, her gloved hand brushing against the wall. She knew the signs, the fine layer of dust where there shouldn't have been any if this had remained populated, emergency systems still running long past their expiration date, that particular heavy silence you only get in places that were once full of people. Judah would look at this like a salvager, systems, patterns, and opportunity. Iandre would see something else. Even if she couldn't say exactly what that was.

Her light swept the corridor again, lingering on the bulkheads and deck plating.

"No blaster marks," she observed.

She crouched briefly by the wall before standing again.

"Not here, anyway. If there was a fight, it happened somewhere else, or someone cleaned up after it."

Neither possibility felt right.

They moved deeper into the station. The quiet felt off, not dangerous, just... unfinished, like they'd walked in after the story had already ended. She looked down the long corridor ahead, then threw a glance back at him.

"Honestly," she said, a faint smile touching her lips, "I'm getting really curious about why a station this big seems to have been left behind without much fuss."

"You salvage things for a living," she went on, her tone light. "Does any of this seem...normal to you?" If this were normal, he would be able to tell long before she ever could.

Judah Dashiell

 

[Judah Dashiell]

Headlamp bounced around the corridor as he continued to look, allowing Iandre Athlea to speak upon what she saw. If he had to hazard a guess, she was a little concerned about the space station and its current state.

"Actually, this all seems fairly normal in my experience. The only thing giving me pause is the fact it drifted close to a hyperlane without being marked on any maps."

He paused for a moment in the corridor to listen before continuing on forward, his eyes looking at the symbols on the piping.

"We find these abandoned quite frequently. If I had to guess the station might have been on a skeleton crew or decommissioned then another group like pirates or smugglers took advantage. When you don't pay for the station initially, tends to make it easier to just pick up and leave."

Another pause and he motioned they should take a right at the upcoming corridor.

"Perhaps more answers in the central control. Or not. Sometimes these things are just mysteries."

 

[Iandre Athlea]

Iandre nodded as she listened, her headlamp sweeping across the pipes and walls before pointing ahead again. The explanation fit. Better than some big mystery or hidden disaster, anyway. Stations were pricey. People were practical. Sometimes the real story wasn't nearly as exciting as the rumors.

"That would explain the lack of obvious damage," she said. "Most folks leave things behind because they're no longer useful, not because something awful has happened."

They kept moving down the corridor, their steps echoing in the emptiness. The sound just drove home how massive the place really was. Once, people had lived and worked here. Argued over maintenance. Grumbled about their shifts. Eaten together. Now there was nothing but quiet.

She glanced at a sealed door as they passed. "Though I'll admit, places like this are a bit creepy." A faint smile touched her lips. "A whole community can just disappear and leave nothing but dust and paperwork behind."

She looked ahead again, adjusting her grip on her helmet light. "Still, if there are answers, central control seems like a decent place to look." The smile returned, carrying a hint of humor. "And if not, we can always add another mystery to the pile and pretend that was the plan all along."

Judah Dashiell

 

[Judah Dashiell]

"Yeah, you get these small groups that move in and have zero idea what it takes to maintain them. I mean for the most part things run themselves but stuff does break and one must be prepared. Doubt they even figure out to invest in a older maintenance droid. So since they didn't pay anything to begin with, abandonment comes pretty easy."

Stopping to check the direction, he motioned to turn a corridor. They were met with immediate carbon scoring. A facedown body. Very old dried blood, given the color and state of things. Nothing looked fresh. Judah moved closer and flipped the body over, studying it for a moment before putting it back it is original position. Salvage was often met with the dead, especially after major battles.

"Or there was a battle. A while ago from the looks of it. Can't really tell who was involved, if it was a government or not. Could have been pirates or bounty hunters...maybe. Or a company got attacked, haven't seen a logo yet though."

Iandre Athlea

 

[Iandre Athlea]

Iandre slowed as they turned the corner, her headlamp catching the carbon scoring on the walls right away. She spotted the body, but her face didn't change. Years of being around battlefields and disasters had killed the ability to be shocked by death itself. Instead, she stepped aside and watched Judah work, noticing how easily he moved through the grim task. Whatever had happened here, it was long over. Old blood, older damage. Just another story the galaxy had already left behind.

"You know," she said thoughtfully, looking up and down the corridor, "when I was younger, I always figured abandoned places had big, dramatic reasons. Ancient secrets. Catastrophes. Conspiracies." She smiled a little. "The older I get, the more I realize most mysteries are just people being people. Though getting attacked by pirates is still pretty dramatic, I guess."

She focused on him again as they kept moving. "That's what gets me about how you talk salvage," she admitted. "Most people see a place like this and immediately start imagining what went wrong. You seem more interested in why people made the choices they did afterward. Abandonment's easy. Maintenance gets skipped. Someone decides it's not worth the trouble anymore." She shook her head slightly. "It's a very practical way of looking at things."

Judah Dashiell

 

[Judah Dashiell]

"Sometimes there are ancient secrets. Rarely find those though. Normally its just this. Pirate battles. Poor maintenance. Governmental collapse."

Leaving the body, he straightened again and started moving down the corridor once again. Lights bounced around the space as he moved his head, carefully picking his way through. There wasn't much to see beyond what looked a small, personal battle.

Hard to make conclusions from it but so far nothing pointed to a large, nefarious plot. Could be wrong, he was certain Iandre Athlea would mention if something was amiss or if she noticed something he didn't.

Sometimes being close to the action made one blind to it.

"Salvage is a very practical job. Guess one gets used to looking through it in one manner or lens. Which is good you're along. You can tell me if this looks out of place or just plain suspicious."

Slowing down, he pulled out his datapad to fire off a small note about the station to his second-in-command.

"We can poke around a bit more. If you think its all clear I'll send my crews out. Looks salvageable so we can tow it to one of our yards."

 

[Iandre Athlea]

Iandre closed her eyes for a brief moment, letting the Force wash quietly through the abandoned corridors. The lingering echoes of fear and violence remained, dulled by time, but they were only echoes now. Nothing fresh. Nothing living.

Opening her eyes again, she gave Judah a small nod.

"I think it's clear." she said. "I don't sense any life aboard besides you and me."

Her gaze swept over the scarred corridor one last time.

"Whatever happened here...it happened a while ago." She rested a gloved hand lightly against the bulkhead before letting it fall away. "It feels more like the aftermath of desperate people than anything organized."

She looked back toward Judah with a reassuring smile.

"I'd say it's safe to bring your crews in." She gave a small shrug. "Though I'll admit you're the one with experience in salvage. This is my first time walking through a derelict like this. I'll trust your judgment if you see something I've missed."

Judah Dashiell