The Tragedy of the Coruscant Queen (see ooc)

[Kuzo]

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The Coruscant Queen was a very fancy name for a very simple ship. The owner had some delusions of grandeur, but if we're being honest, it was a basic passenger liner for people who had enough money to travel, but not enough to book a flight on a fancier liner (or simply wanted the anonymity, but hey, we're not judging).

Traveling on the return leg of a journey that started on Dantooine and ended on it's home planet of Coruscant, The Queen was intended to make a dozen stops along the way, both to pick up and let off passengers. It wasn't the fastest way to travel, but it was comfortable enough and the food was good.

But of course, because this is the story we're telling, something went wrong (after all, no one tells the stories about the trips that were uneventful). The Coruscant Queen fell out of hyperspace when something exploded in the engine room. Amid flashing red lights and blaring warning klaxons, the ship crashed on a wild planet. Some passengers survived, to wake up in the quiet. Some did not.

We pick up the scene there, just after the crash. The fate of the pilots is unknown. The location they have crashed, is for the moment, unknown. What dangers wait here, watching, lurking for the jostled and injured passengers?

You guessed it.

*****

It took a moment for Irajah to figure out what she was looking at when she opened her eyes.

Why am I upside down?

She blinked, trying to shake the haziness from her head. Reaching up, she frowned, her fingers coming away from her hairline. Wet. Her frown deepened as she slowly brought her hand in front of her eyes.

Blue milk. She had blue milk in her hair. The cup must have been thrown across the cabin in the crash.

Crash?

​Oh yes, she remembered now.

Groaning, she looked around then up. She was inside one of the cabins of the passenger liner Coruscant Queen. And she was upside down because the *ship* was upside down. Lovely. Reaching up, she tried to undo the crash webbing she'd managed to strap herself in to right before the force of the crash had knocked her out. Her hands fumbled, unable to find a way to release the safety catch.

"Hello?" She called out, still fumbling with the catch. Drat it. "Is anyone there?"

There were dozens of large cabins like this one on the ship, in addition to more expensive, private berths. Surely she wasn't the only survivor.

 

[Nate Phantoms]

Darkness, shattered by the rhythmic flash of the cation lights outside his cabin.

The sounds of terror, women and men alike screaming, all pushing and shoving, trying to escape the inevitable.

He had tried, to make it the safest for the people around him. They all rejected his ideas, as if they knew how it would end. The ship was rocking, sending furniture and passengers alike flying down the corridors. Bodies piled at the elevator, blocking the only exit.

They were trapped, in a burning, rapidly descending ship from hell.

___________________Hours later_________________________

The sound of groaning metal and crackling flames woke him from his unconscious state. Looking around, he realized he was on the roof of his cabin, all of the furniture and things scattered around him. Trying to rise he felt a red hot pain slice through him, and he bit his tongue to stop himself from screaming. His hand moved to grasp the meter long piece of shrapnel the had managed to skewer him through the ribs. The only reason he was alive; those enhancements he received during his time on the Purgatory, it allowed him to regenerate flesh, bone, sinew, all that stuff, much, much faster. One problem, the piece of metal had to be removed in order for him to heal.

Taking a deep breath, he wrapped his fingers around the base of the "spear", before picking up a large bolt and clenching his teeth down on it.
One, Two....Three.

With a sharp tug, the metal was wrenched out from inside of him, and he let it fall as the flesh began to reattach itself. It was a extremely painful matter, but he'd grown accustomed to the pain. As he began to look around, he rose slowly, unsure as to what the condition of the floor below him was in. Coming to the conclusion that the floor was at least stable, he moved over to the closet where his armour was, his burning eyes reflecting off of the mirrored panels.

Now fully dressed and safe from most things, he pushed open the door with his shoulder, only to find chaos outside. Sparks from the wrecked electronic systems ha d started a few fires, and passengers who had suffered with the same injury he had were sprawled out on the floor, polls of blood from the skewered and punctured bodies making the floor gleam crimson.

Using the flashlight on his rifle, he managed to pick his way down the corridor, unroll he reached the more popular cabins, pall were full down here. Surely someone survived? Losing hope after he searched the first section of cabins, he was on the brink of leaving, until the soft plea for help reached his ears.
Someone was alive.

Now moving much faster, he focused on the origin of the sound, vaulting over debris and the deceased. Finally he was there, but a door from the opposite cabin had busted, letting the dresser, bed, and a rather large nightstand fall onto the door he needed to get into. Attaching his rifle onto the magnetic holster on his back, he began to pull at the wreckage blocking the door, the headlamps on his helmet illuminating his surroundings. Not being able to move the dresser, he ignited his saber staff, the white and purple blades humming softly as he tore his way through the door and metal frame.

There,he held up his staff, the brakes of his headlamps stopping on the dangling frame of a woman, one who appeared to be around his age.

"Having trouble there, Miss?"
His voice would echo in the open room, his gaze resting on her.

[member="Irajah Ven"]

 

[Cait Falcor]

Cait Falcor
Coruscant Queen - The "Promenade"
________________________________

Cait Falcor knew Alarm Klaxons. And then loud noises and panic. And then Oblivion.

And then - sometime later - she knew a great deal of pain.

New Rule. No more being on ships that crash.

Oh please...O'Reen was a fluke.

And Sprocket? And Yavin?

Either way...talking to myself about it won't change things...am I alive?

I'm being snarky to my own internal monologue, I must be. Great.

I'm also crazy.

Are we quite finished? Lets get this show on the road and see how bad it is.

Cait Falcor slowly, gingerly opened her eyes - and promptly got dust or debris in them. Well, off to a grand start aren't we?

Not helping.

Her eyes were streaming with tears, but that was the least of her worries. Something heavy was on her leg, she couldn't move it...worse...it didn't hurt. Everywhere else was sore, like she'd just done ten rounds in the ring with an angry Ugnaught...but her leg...nothing.

Cait shifted the remaining debris off of her person, and slowly started to look around. There had been a dozen passengers in here, drinking and playing Sabaac or other games of chance. Cait had been losing her money in something called Blackjack. She couldn't see anyone, but everything in the cabin was just grey and dust. Looking at her leg, Cait saw an overturned Sabaac table on her leg...the only thing keeping it from having completely crushed her calf was her rifle - now hopelessly broken - and some other debris, part of a bulkhead and...*gasp* ...a body. Cait had seen death before, even so...she still had to work to keep from retching.

Ohhh...it was that accountant from Tanaxia...Jirema? Jaroma? Why can't I remember her name! Her leg momentarily forgotten, Cait felt horrible that this was how she went, and she couldn't even remember her name. She'd been clumsily hitting on her all night, and now...this.

A voice yanked her out of her reveille. Faint, like it was down the corridor.

"Hello?" and then "Is anyone there?"

We know that voice! Thank the Force!

Cait tried to yell out, but the dust chocked her mouth and all she could do was cough. Finally - after much hacking - she was barely able to croak through the dust "I'm h...here. P-please...h-help" but the sound that escaped her lips would barely have out-paced a Coromian Field Mouse passing gas under a blanket.

Cait sank in despair, wallowing in her pain and grief until something tickled her memory. For some reason that she couldn't vocalize at the time, Cait had kept the Sub-Vocal comm's unit that she and Ven had been issued on Yavin. What's more...she'd left it on. Cait's hand shakily worked its way to the small flesh-colored patch on her neck, and simply pressed it. The weak, regular presses would send a "click" through the channel...she could really only hope against hope that Irajah had also kept hers.

And that she was still listening...

______________

[member="Irajah Ven"]

 

[Xevek Nekonis]

It was funny how different people reacted when they were confronted with the fact that they were, in fact, mortal and were never truly going to live forever in such a manner that they could not deny it. Many assumed that they understood this undeniable truth, the lone truth that inhabited the galaxy, that they would always be ready to accept the end when they came, yet, more often than not, they were wrong. No one can imagine what it would be like to be dead, to simply enter a state of none-existence, to pass from the realm of the living and into the realm of the dead, to be pulled into the embrace of Nath. No matter how hard one may try, it is an impossibility. Many would attempt to do so and end up describing a world of endless blackness where no light and no other being existed and that would not be true as, with death, there would be no black, no colour, no lack of life or lack of light. In true death, there would be nothing and yet the brain of any sentient being that attempted to imagine the realm of the dead shied away from that fact, that revelation, and so many deluded themselves. They convinced themselves that they did understand death, that they had accepted their mortality and, yet, without them consciously forcing the brain to move past its instinctive fleeing from the universal truth they could do neither. And so, when those that did not understand what they had to do were finally forced to confront the rule of the galaxy that they had so strongly and subconsciously avoided every being reacted in a different and unique manner; making the scene a morbidly fascinating one.

These thoughts raced through Xavka Duquo's mind as he lazily and nonchalantly cast his one eyed gaze around the interior of the currently crashing Coruscant Queen, a passaenger ship travelling towards Coruscant. Very easily, the Sith could sort the array of passengers that surrounded him into two main categories, so he naturally did so while carefully and calmly fastening himself within the crash webbing. There were the deeply religious beings, bent over in their seats with eyes in varying numbers dependent of the species closed as their lips, if they possessed them in the first place, rapidly flexed around silent words that were spoken towards the beings' chosen God, Goddess of Deities. Then, there were the sheep. The civilians that lived every day, boring and mundane lives, experiencing little of the wider galaxy outside of the little bubble of comfort that they surrounded themselves with, easily recognisable by their panicked features, fumbling actions, rapid breathing and the screaming, by Amina, the unrelenting screaming. For a few short seconds until he reasserted control over his thoughts and returned to planning out his next actions, Xavka considered praying for Nath to end the miserable lives of the sheep in the here and now and not wait for the inevitable impact to do the same job. Not out of pity, of course, but out of scorn as the cacophony of screams and shouts assaulted Xavka's sensitive hearing, rang within his ears unending and sent spike after spike of white pain into his brain.

Finally affixing himself to the crash webbing, Xavka was content to pass the time until the Coruscant Queen impacted with whatever planet it was currently heading for by planning out what his first actions would have to be after the crash. He would no doubt loose consciousness in the crash itself, so first he would have to run a quick check of his body, ensure that nothing was damaged too severely. After that, he guessed that his next course of action would be to see if there was other survivors.. How he would react to those survivors would, of course, depend on what type of state his body was in, but, so long as he was not seriously injured, Xavka doubted that any Jedi or Light-tainted Force User would live long after meeting him as, after all, their's was a constant war of Light and Dark and to strike after a crash would be perfect. A basis of a plan decided, Xavka settled into meditation as he ensured that his Quey'tek Meditation continued to function as it should, obscuring his Presence in the Force so completely that he appeared to be a harmless civilian. It was during this meditation, that Xavka's world went dark after flaring to encompass the sound of screeching metal and the feel of burning heat.

--------

Consciousness did not slowly fade into being for Xavka Duquo, bringing with it the feeling of aches and pains and the slow realisation that, yes, the ship he had been on had crashed. No, reality was reassured in a single instant for Darth Lykos would have it no other way. A single, orange coloured eye opened sharply, causing Xavka to be greeted with the sight of chaos that surrounded him. Chairs and bodies both were randomly tossed as if some giant hand had randomly plucked them up and discarded them. The side of the Coruscant Queen had been torn back by the force of the crash, letting streams of light and fresh air stream in through the gaping metallic wound. Turning his attention away from site of carnage to his own body, Xavka began to check to see the extent of his wounds, only to hiss out a curse in Ul'Zabrak; the crash had not been kind to him.

His cybernetic left arm, alchemised as it was, had been crushed in the impact. It no long had the appearance of a smooth, black metal arm, but, instead, it was now nothing more than a misshapen lump of twisted durasteel and sparking wires.

A large gash had been opened along his torso, leaving blood to flow freely and quickly down his body, staining the plain white shirt he had chosen to wear. Thankfully it wasn't too deep a wound.

His right arm and leg were mostly fine, only covered in numerous shallow, stinging lacerations that served only as an annoyance. However, his left leg was much worse off. Much like his other two organic limbs, his right leg was covered in a large amount of cuts, but there were two other, and much more serious, injuries present. The kneecap had been dislocated and was now resting a good few inches to the right of where it should be and his femur had torn through skin and muscle to expose itself to the outside world.

As the situation set into his mind, Xavka allowed himself a brief lapse in his usual control of self and rocked his head back to roar out a single curse in Ul'Zabrak. "ETUK!" A loud, prolong and animistic growl of annoyance soon accompanied the curse.

Since Xavka had been traveling to Coruscant posing as a simple Zabrak mercenary and underground fighter who had no connection to the Force so as to pass underneath the scrutiny of the Galactic Alliance that now controlled the former Sith world, all of his weapons had been left at his safe house of Iridonia, as had anything that would hint to him being Sith, leaving him with only a simple vibrosword, a vibrosword that had been confiscated from his person upon setting foot within the Coruscant Queen. With his injuries being too sever for him to heal using the Force, for his skills in the Force lay in other areas, and him being weaponless, that meant that Xavka would have to rely on the other survivors that he could currently hear moving about. Further more, since he could feel the Force flow within a few of the survivors in such a way that meant that they were trained and not sense any of the Darkness that a Sith would exhibit, Xavka would have to continue the rouse of being nothing more than a Zabrak Mercenary as he had no wish to be killed in such a dishonourable and ignoble manner.

Cursing once more, Xavka brushed away dreadlock of dark grey hair, which had fallen in front of his face during the ship's rough landing, before allowing himself to sink back into meditation, ignoring the steady thrum of pain that ran through his body from experience and sheer will power. Right now, he had to focus on ensuring that his Presence within the Force continued to be obscured, to be lost beneath the natural waves, the natural rises and falls of the Force as it flowed throughout the Universe and that, if in the off chance that his Presence would be detected, that the Darkness that consumed it would not be felt.

Just before his mind sank into the haze that came with meditation, Xavka allowed himself a brief moment of dark amusement. "At least I'm not upside down."



[member="Cait Falcor"] | [member="Irajah Ven"] | [member="Nate the Bounty Hunter"]

TL;DR
-Xavka ponders philosophy as the Coruscant Queen begins to crash.
-Xavka wakes up to find that his cybernetic left arm is useless, he has a large gash across his chest, his arm and right leg are relatively okay and that his right knee is dislocated and his right femur has torn through his leg.
-Xavka curses out loud, loudly, before growling, again, loudly.
-Xavka shouts once more before sinking into meditation so as to keep his Presence within the Force hidden, which would keep his identity as Sith secret.

 

[Z'Zharen]

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bljgdSHjB9w​

Unknown Jungle Planet - Light Rainy Afternoon

This world was dangerous, unpredictable and very lonely. Z'Zharen was sitting in a tall curved grey tree. A rare sight to see a Whipid up in a tree. This particular young Whipid was born from the icy world of Toola and had made a pilgrimage to Kashyyk when he was banished from his native tribe. He found an adoptive family with the Wookiees, they were kind and brave people. They taught him much of their forest world since it was completely alien to the Whipid. This world was not Kashyyyk, though it bore similarities.

It was very lush, full of exotic fauna and landscapes. Truly a natural beauty, but it lacked sentient life. No cities, no tribes, no beings at all save for the young Whipid. He lost track of how long he had been here, but in his time on this world the closes thing he encountered to sentient life was his own reflection in the pools of water he would drink from.

He did not have much with him, save for a pair of torn pants that he wore. A belt with a shrapnel blade bound to an animal bone, clipped to his side. Across his chest was a strap of leather, on his back the leather sheathed a damaged electric staff usually seen by body guard droids. A over his shoulder a worn medical kit that barely had any original content in it. Now it served mostly as a snack bag where he kept fruits and other items he would pick up from time to time.

The Whipid leaned straight against the sturdy trunk of the tree, balancing himself on the thick branch he sat cross legged on. He recalled one of the last people he had a conversation with, she had taught him briefly about meditation. The young Whipid closed his eyes and gently took in a deep breath, but before he could release it, a booming sound had exploded from above him. His eyes opened wide and he nearly choked on the air he was meaning to exhale.

Birds and other animals were screeching from the noise while a gust of wind from above had rocked the tree tops. The young Whipid had to grip onto the branch with his clawed fingers to hold him in place. When the jostling stopped he quickly climbed higher into the tree top and saw a large ship was about to crash. It made impact, but even though it was quite some distance away the vibration of the crash could be felt from his current location. Smoke was spiraling up now into the sky.

The young Whipid climbed down the tree and once he hit the jungle floor he took off into an athlete's dash.

----Hours Later

Crash Site - Dusk

The Whipid had spent most of his time running to the crash site, once he arrived to the scene he did not see anyone or anything exit the vessel yet. It was large, but not known to Z'Zharen, it could be anyone. Pirates, infectiousness beings, slavers...the thought stayed with him for a moment before he climbed into a nearby tree, he made sure he was concealed by the branches. He held his massive physique in place with a clawed hand sunken into the bark. From his medical bag he pulled out a pair of cracked binoculars too small to fit around his head. He held them up to his eyes and remained vigil waiting to see who or what would exit the ship. The sun was going to set soon and nocturnal predators would surely come to inspect the new arrivals.

​

​

​

 

[Akilah Samara]

Akilah woke to find the room spinning, and her face wet and a little sticky. As she moved she could feel the sticky in her hair. Pulling her hand up to her face she pulled a bit of the sticky off to spot the crimson sight of blood.

Frak.

Her room was absolutely trashed, datapads crunched into pieces, walls torn, all of her possessions were toast Looking down at her blue cami it had a wonderfully attractive red stain on it two, as did her black jeans. The rest of her clothes were soaked in some sort of fuel that had leaked from a broken wall. Not sure of what they were she decided it better not to touch it. Walking over to her wall commlink she pressed the button and tried to comm the ship's staff.

"Hey, this is Akilah from room 347. What happened?" She yelled into the commlink, but nothing blinked. There was no response. The commlinks were shot, or at the very least least hers was.

Frak.

Taking a quartet of quick breaths and mustering the courage to move she opened the door to the main hall, sliding the door manually. Power was out in her hallway too, but the door wasn't super heavy, so it was tedious but okay.

"OHMYGOSH!" The grad student screamed as she went out and spotted a lifeless Herglic on the floor. It was covered in half-spherical burns. Not a bruise from the concussion of a crash or loose panels flying on him, he was covered in the after effects of blaster bolts on unarmored flesh. Someone was here, and here to kill. And she had just screamed, giving away her location. Tears in her eyes the grad student ran forward, not knowing whether it lead to danger or safety, just knowing she couldn't stay here.


[member="Irajah Ven"] | [member="Nate the Bounty Hunter"] | [member="Cait Falcor"] | [member="Darth Lykos"] | @Z'Zharen

 

[Lief]

[1]

Kyra couldn't hear.

That was the first thing she noticed when her eyes flickered open to see thick green leaves as large as her head just a few feet from her face. A steady ringing, like tinnitus, enveloped her in a warm embrace and shielded her from the shrill screams in the distance. In this strangely isolated state the junker could feel the blood coursing through her body, each gulp of air heightened the pulse behind her ears.

It was a disgusting sensation. Feeling your body at work, noticing things that usually happened automatically and without thought. Her heart beat quickly, yet her lungs were under worked. Slowly they took in one breath. Held it. Then exhaled a clean line which lasted what seemed to be an eternity. But in truth she knew it to be about five seconds or so.

Rinse and repeat.

The ringing did not cease, yet foggy sounds had begun to break through. It was as if she was underwater, back on Sarkany with [member='Connor Harrison'], submerged in the crystalline depths of a natural spring. Her first exploration into nature had brought about many wonders she hadn't thought existed. Water that wasn't contaminated, the lush greenery of grass and leaves, the jagged mountains which jutted out and stood guard over the world.

A stab of longing stuck her. Very slowly she tried to sit upright, feeling the floor spin beneath her butt. Or was it her head that wobbled? Another slow exhale, this time lasting an impressive eight seconds. The sounds which had cut through the buzzing began to clear. Screams, cries, calls for help. Even the low crackling of fire. And something more.

Life. Wind. Creatures.

She blinked several times, before glancing right. A jungle spread out before her, not too unakin to the one she had explored with Con'. Lush and vibrant and stretching on and on... Though her vision was slightly marred by the rockface which was jutting out toward her, cutting off the lefthand side of her vision.

Her gaze followed it around, before life became monotonous with the introduction of jagged durasteel plating... Then a room. Small, simple, containing just a bed. The duplicity of the scene was appalling. She had never really seen the two worlds collide before, Raxus was metal and grime and great hunking beasts that retained no life. Filled with mindless workers. And Sarkany was peace and light and life... Real, true creatures that breathed and bled.

And here she was, sat on the cusp of both. She could retreat back inside, to the wreckage. Or she could climb her way out, embrace the land for what it was. They had crashed after all, and if there was a gaping hole here who knew what other damage had been done across the board.

Those screams though.

Damn the screams.

Connor would never forgive her if she simply left without a trace, if she refused to help. But what use would she be? She was a scrapper, a smuggler, a mechanic. She was no hero, she wasn't a medic. She wasn't trained to treat trauma or break people out of twisted durasteel cages. Nor did she have the wonders of the Force to fall back on, though Con' would insist that wasn't the case. That she simply had to try.

This was not the place for such.

She rose, blurry eyed, and felt an ache along the lefthand side of her body. Nothing broken, she deduced, just a little roughed up. Her head throbbed like nobody's business though, and a quick wipe of her temple revealed blood. She felt sick to her stomach.

You've faced worse before, Kai... How often do you cut yourself at work? Remember the time you almost chopped your finger ...

No, not the time for that. She was alive, and moderately well, but others would not have such luck. A whimper in the corner directed her attention to her traveling companion. Kyne wasn't looking too good, the poor pup was lay on his side breathing heavily.

"My poor baby" she coo'd, as she gathered up enough strength to take a few steps forward. Her left leg dragged slightly. She knew that he wasn't physically injured, he was a kusak after all, but crashlanding was traumatic for the best of them. Leaning down when she reached his side she gave him a gentle pet along his flank. That roused him, and he leaped up against her and sent her barreling back to the floor.

"Easy, pup, easy... If I didn't have bruised ribs before... Sheesh."

Rubbing her side she managed a small, almost selfish smile. He was alive, at least. She felt bad for those who were not quite so lucky.

You do know that's a rule now... Connor's words resonated in her mind, If you ever have any trouble... You have to call me, so I can protect you...

She didn't need protecting. She was Kyra Sol! Spacer, Junker, Scrapyard Overlord! ... But she was also lost, stranded on some unknown planet with a ship load of people that may or may not have survived. Reaching to her belt she pulled out her commlink and ... nothing. No signal, no reception, just static.

Oh, Connor was going to be very mad with her.

Pushing Kyne from her lap she rose again and staggered toward the doorway. She could get the damned thing working, she just needed a little time. Replacing it to her belt, her fingers fell upon something else. Something which she'd kept hidden throughout her journey. Just the touch of the cylinder gave her strength. Maybe she would be of use to somebody out there after all.

"C'mon, Pup..."

[member="Irajah Ven"] [member="Nate the Bounty Hunter"] [member="Cait Falcor"] [member="Darth Lykos"] [member='Z'Zharen'] [member="Akilah Samara"]

 

[Kuzo]

She knew someone was coming before they actually reached her, and she was content enough to sit tight for the moment. Of course, she was technically hanging upside down from crash webbing and not sitting at all, but that seemed like a minor issue.

Listening to the unknown cutting through the debris, she did a quick check over of her own status. Other than the blue milk and being stuck, she didn't seem to have sustained any serious injuries. The crash webbing had done it's job and the large debris seemed to have avoided her in the tumbling descent.

Lucky her indeed.

Sure, she had a couple scrapes, one particularly raw one across her left cheek. And she was sore all over from the crash itself, but over all, she was okay. The bruising? The same as always- dark, angry bruises covered the insides of her forarms down to her wrists from her inner elbow. And she didn't need to check her torso or neck to know they were there, covered by the high necked collar of her tunic. But that had nothing to do with the crash after all.

"Having trouble there, Miss?"​

She came back out of her thoughts, blinking hazel eyes a little owlishly at the figure standing in front of her. Staring at him, upside down, she could have almost laughed at how normal the question sounded. It was completely incongruous with the upside down room, the soft crackling of flames somewhere outside of the room, the sight of blood on his shirt. At least he was up and moving- whatever it was, the injury couldn't be too severe. She nodded at [member="Nate the Bounty Hunter"], dark curls bouncing in the wrong direction.

"Well, the clasp is stuck and I'm hanging upside down. It's not particularly comfortable. And I keep hearing this clicking sound that I'm not really sure where it's coming from. I'm concerned something may be leaking?"

Of course, nothing was leaking. The clicking sound Irajah was hearing was [member="Cait Falcor"] trying to use the subvocal comm system they'd both received on Yavin. No one else could hear it. But Irajah hadn't used that system in the time since then and had, frankly, forgotten about it.

"Mind giving me a hand and cutting me down? We need to find any other survivors and either get them out or put out the fires if they aren't too bad. I saw at least two canisters of extinguisher foam in the hallway outside. There are probably more around the ship too."

​Problem solve. Get it done. Worry about shaking later. Her tone was cool and calm, authoritative but not bossy. She was used to handling emergencies- after all, emergency medical care was her specialty. Keeping calm in the face of strangeness came naturally to her. It was a useful thing. She spoke as if everything were perfectly normal, even as she was prioritizing how to deal with each aspect of the crash.

The sound of [member="Darth Lykos"] 's cursing and growling was followed a heartbeat later by [member="Akilah Samara"] 's scream.

Irajah grimaced, locking eyes with Nate.

"And we should hurry."

@Z'Zharen [member="Kyra Sol"]

 

[Nate Phantoms]

Looking up at the woman, he would listen, nodding to show his understanding, and then standing right underneath her, pointing his rifle up at the clasp suspending her from the ceiling. "If I were to hand you a knife, the possibility of you falling on it are high, so I'm just going to blast the suspenders and catch you...sound good?"

As she had somewhat just told him to hurry up, he wouldn't wait for a response, tacking aim, and sending one shot into the metal clasp. Dropping his rifle immediately, he held out his arms, and braced for the sudden weight with his legs, or else he could seriously injure his back. She landed right in his arms, and he set her down on her feet as soon as he made sure she was okay.

"Here, you know how to fire this thing? I'll handle the fire extinguishers, I just need someone to cover me in case of any bandits, other people with guns...is that do-able?"

[member="Irajah Ven"]

 

[Kuzo]

Even as [member="Nate the Bounty Hunter"] was raising the rifle, Irajah was babbling "W-wait maybe that's notsuchagoodkarabastyou'regoingto-"

BANG

She flinched, covering her face with her hands as the shot neatly bisected the clasp. Fortunately, he was a good shot. She tumbled, head over tea kettle, letting out a small, undignified shriek right before he neatly caught her. As he put her down (surprisingly gently), the petite woman got her feet under her. She busied herself for a moment, brushing herself off in an attempt to hide the bright red shade of her face. Wincing slightly, she straightened her high neck tunic- everything hurt, but to a point that was normal for her. She'd adjust.

"Thank you. That was very.... efficient." That wasn't an insult. Usually Irajah appreciated efficiency. She just wasn't used to efficiency dropping her, upside down, three meters through the air.

Listening for a moment, she shook her head.

"Probably better if you hold on to it. I'm what you would call.... generously.... merely proficient with a blaster pistol. Beyond point that end at the bad guys, I wouldn't even know where to start with that thing," she said, eyeing the rifle dubiously. "I'd be more of a liability than an asset. I'll handle the canisters. Hopefully we'll find other people who aren't too injured to help. " Irajah knew her own strengths and skills, and wasn't afraid to say where they lacked. Speaking of....

She was kneeling, sifting through the chaos in her room. She spoke over her shoulder, but her attention was on finding something in particular.

"When we get a chance, I'd like to take a look at your wounds. My name is Irajah, by the way. The ship has a med bay toward the bow, but my med pack is here somewhere in this mess ah-hah, here."

Pulling it out from beneath the debris, she slung it over her shoulder. Anything else she could come back for, but this she might need.

"For now though let's- What in the Maw *is* that clicking? You don't hear-?"

She stopped mid sentence. Slow, cold realization dawning on her face. For a smart woman, she was remarkably slow sometimes.

[member="Cait Falcor"] was on the ship. What was she doing here and how had they missed each other up until now? And why wasn't she actually speaking over their link? Had the comm been damaged? Or had Cait?

"Maw curse it. We need to hurry."

Rather than start running through the ship willy-nilly, Irajah started where she had already planned to. Peering out of the cabin, she looked up and down the hall (empty at the moment) before clambering out. Her first stop was the emergency panel just a few meters down from her room. Under normal circumstances, the panel would be locked, In Case of Emergency Break Glass flashing brightly in holographic lettering. But once the warning klaxons had started blaring, the locks automatically disengaged. She popped the door open, pulling out a canister of extinguisher foam and a small laser cutter. The later she pocketed, not knowing when they'd need it. The former she flipped open, so she'd be ready to use it. She let out an experimental blast, covering a small, smoldering electrical fire in the smothering foam. Offering a brief, pleased nod, she looked back at Nate.

"We should go room by room, make sure no one else is trapped. I'll put out fires as we find them.... or if they are too big, well, we'll burn that bridge when we get to it."

 

[Lief]

[2]

Kai blinked in the dimly lit corridor, taking note of the emergency light panels which ran along the bottom of the wall. Great, she'd always wanted to be able to see her feet and not two feet infront of her face.

Resisting the urge to roll her eyes, she gave a very small whistle for Kyne to keep up and left the much brighter sanctuary of her room in favour of the bleak unknown.

When her pup' took the lead, however, she knew he was onto something. Or someone. She knew better than to ignore him, and trailed after him as he ventured along with wagging tail.

What they happened upon, however, was anything but pleasant. By the time she realized why he had stopped, after all the thin light panels were doing a pretty shoddy job, Kyne already had his maw against the blood soaked floor.

"Gross, no, Kyne stop!" She swatted his side, and he gave her an almost condescending look as if to say don't you realize they're already dead?

That only made her shudder. "Off, now." Her voice was sterner this time, and obediently he returned to her side. Blood, bodies, death.

Kyra held her stomach, feeling it turn horribly, and without warning she hurled. After a few moments she stood upright and wiped her sweaty forehead on the back of her hand. Disgusting. This whole thing was a mess.

"Come" she said, her voice trembling as she took a few steps away from the bodies and onward through the hallway. Someone had to be alive... They couldn't all have met the same fate.

"Hello?" Her voice raised, louder than she'd have liked, as she stared off into the darkness. "Anyone there?"

She wiped her hands on her trousers and then groaned to herself. What an idiot. She passed her hand back over her belt, skimming over cylinder and blaster, commlink and sonic servodriver, in favour of a small palm sized item.

With a click the room lit up as she directed the torch ahead of herself. More death. More destruction. This time, however, she managed to keep a steeled stomach.

[member="Irajah Ven"] [member="Nate the Bounty Hunter"]

 

[Galen Adina]

[member="Kyra Sol"] [member="Irajah Ven"] [member="Nate the Bounty Hunter"] [member="Akilah Samara"] [member="Z'Zharen"] [member="Darth Lykos"] [member="Cait Falcor"]

A sharp pain rose on the top of Galen's head as his eyes fluttered open, he was lying on the floor his face covered in a liquid. As he stood and placed a hand over his head, another throbbing pain appeared in his leg causing his stance to falter. Beyond his fuzzy vision, Galen could see the shapes of trees and grass, a beautiful landscape to be sure. The only problem was that he was supposed to be in space.

The sight of blood covered his hand as he lowered it to his face, a deep red. The memory came back to him as he observed the overturned room that he was in, his notes covering the floor. Sadness hit him as he noticed that they too were covered in a deep crimson coating, ruining the scrawlings that had covered him. "This is why they tell you to laminate your notes." He regretted not taking the advice.

He grabbed what was left of his journals and shoved them into the bag, tearing off the strap and using some of the broken furniture that was sprawling the area to use as a splint for his leg. His memory of the ships layout came back to him, he had to get out of the ship.

Climbing through the door of his section, he made his way through the main lobby of the ship. The sense of dread in the ship had began to seep into Galen's mind, depression beginning to take root. "Hello, is anyone there?" Desperation for any human interaction had forced his voice, but he heard no answer.

Galen finally realized the amount of death as he made his way through the halls, checking the bodies of the deceased for anybody who had might've survived. His hands had only met cold flesh, groping through blood and gore to find only what he had already seen.

After a few minutes had passed of searching the dead he heard a hoarse cough coming from beneath the carcass of a hutt, a pitiable call with the last of someone's strength. "I'm here I'll get you out." Galen rested his back against the dead Hutt, a vile smell of slime and blood piercing his nose. Galen used the force to assist him in removing the Hutt's body, screaming in pain and frustration as the body rolled off the man trapped below.

The Wookie was in terrible condition with no chance of survival, his lungs collapsed beneath the weight of the Hutt's magnanimousness. Galen comforted the Wookie as he passed, sadness filling him as the only person he met died in his arms. A memory stirred of his time in the war, only increasing the pain in his head. He brought up a piece of shrapnel and pierced the back of the Wookie's neck to ease it's passing, just like he had done to a fellow soldier years ago.

Galen simply sat for a few minutes to collect himself, before raising his position. Blood had began to dry, coating his hair, clothes, and the right half of his face. He knew that he had to escape the cold metal death trap, but he couldn't remember where he was and the pain in his head was increasing as he slowly began to collapse. Galen desperately held onto consciousness, stumbling through the halls in a dazed state.

 

[Akilah Samara]

To say Akilah was running like a nuna with it's head cut off was not entirely accurate. She was panicked, running, and confused, but she was also in pain. Her head had some sort of cut, she felt a pain in her torso, and her legs were reluctant to move. Probably bruised or cut, but she was afraid to look down. She wasn't a super cool soldier or Force soldier like some of the other young women she'd interviewed. She was just a grad student, with nothing resembling training for this.

And there were bodies. Not dozens or anything enormous, but a few, one bruised up, one with parts of walls and ceiling stuck in her, and another with blaster bolt wounds. Tears flowed freely through a combination of sorrow and fear, as she pressed forward and tried to keep her guts to herself.

This can't be happening. This just can't be happening.

Surely it was a dream right? Otherwise she'd see someone else. Or some else alive rather. The chances of her being the only survivor were too slim, just too slim. She kept going forward hoping for the nightmare to end, when she turned a corner and spotted two figures, [member="Nate the Bounty Hunter"] and [member="Irajah Ven"]. The former was armed. Was he the killer? Her first thought was to run, but her legs thought that a poor idea. Her eyes glanced at the girl. She wasn't armed, she had a fire extinguisher. A rescue party maybe?

"I-" She stuttered. "I, who are you?" She fought off every instinct to cry 'Help'. She was ashamed of her helplessness, and wary of the strangers.

OOC: On the phone on lunch. Sorry for short/colorless post.

 

[Nate Phantoms]

Was she...blushing? Sure, having a rather pretty woman fall right into your arms was something out of the holo-flicks, but it'd just happened. And she Cleary was embarrassed, so he left it at that. After listening to her explain why giving her a blaster was a bad idea, he shrugged, pulling out his pistol anyway. Approaching her after she had covered a small fire with foam, he would place his hand on her shoulder gently, offering her the pistol: handle first.

"I'd feel better if I knew you were protected...No matter your ability to shoot." Looking down at her pointedly, he would realize she had no means of carrying the weapon, so he pulled off one of his holsters and strapped it around her waist, sliding the pistol inside of it. When she mentioned his wounds, he would look down, pulling up his blood covered shirt to revel a pink scar, even that was slowly disappearing.

"I'd received some....operations that..here. I'll show you." Not having the time to explain, he looked over, and slit his hand on the sharp door frame beside him. His blood splattered onto the floor, but he led o it his hand, showing her as the wound stitched itself back up. "See? Good as new-"

Hearing a new voice, he spun on his heel, his rifle in hand. Maybe now would be a good time to put on his armor, as anyone, clearly, could just pop around the corner. But his gaze visibly softened and he dropped his rifle, holding up his hands and looking at the woman before him. "Hey, hey, it's okay, we'll help you. I mean you no harm whatsoever...promise."

[member="Irajah Ven"], [member="Akilah Samara"]

 

[Logen Brunner]

Captain Logen Brunner some would describe as a wolf like opportunist, predatorial and unrelenting in what ever en-devour his sinks his teeth into. A naturally talented pilot and when at the command of a ship one would say it was an art piece of masterwork in the making. But, most would say he was a drunkard, a womanizing scoundrel with a endless thirst for life's fleeting pleasures. A fast talking con artist with a itchy trigger finger. A mixed bag of descriptions for the smuggler, and yet here he was being rewarded for his heroism aboard the Prison Ship during the Chandrilla incident. Though the grape vine told that a valiant soldier was offered reward first but stoicly decline for what ever reason a soldier's soldier has. Dumb grunt passing up on a piece of tail such as Zonia? Of course Logen was all over the chance, even if he was second choice.

The prize was a trip for two aboard the luxury cruise ship known as 'The Coruscant Queen'. Now, to the old man this was a intimate vacation with a beautiful woman, so of course he had some expectations of what the true reward would be. What he did not predict was the woman's uncanny will power to resist the suave advances made by the hero smuggler. Logen, a veteran of such with a bag full of tricks had played the game the best he could and yet could not score a hit. Her iron will could be best described as a beskar chastity belt with the key lost in a wormhole, impregnable.

So, last ditch attempt was to lower her defenses with liquid courage and maybe his corellian luck will play in his favor.

............ Much later on.........

Logen woke up, his head ringing with pain as if trampled upon by a herd of banfas. He had a extreme case of cotton mouth, evidence of a night of heavy drinking. His body ached, all over... bone and muscle alike. Did he score? Was this quiet reserved girl a demon in disguised and had ruined the old man? The thought was encouraging but as his eyes squinted open, there may have been a different answer. It took him a minute to take it all in, but the room was upside down. He could hear the klaxon alarms ringing. Something bad had happen and it had nothing to do with the fantasy of this woman breaking him in a night of drunken savage romance.

"Zonia!" Logen's voice was harsh and raspy as he called out to his travel companion "Zonia... where you at?" He did not know if he was in his room or in hers. he had blacked out last night for the woman can hold her booze far better then he could.

[member="Zonia Kalranoos"]

 

[Kuzo]

Irajah had just started to peer around a corner in to the next cabin when [member="Nate the Bounty Hunter"] offered the pistol. Even unwilling to carry a rifle, she had to admit a pistol was a good idea. Somewhere in her own room, with the rest of her belongings, was her own hold out blaster. It hadn't occurred to her to go digging for that- but then, it had always been an afterthought at best.

"Thanks I-"

She'd been about to accept when he took his own initiative and started to buckle the belt around her waist. Previously, she'd been embarrassed because she hadn't been able to suppress that rather inelegant shriek of hers when he'd shot her down. Now however, she just blinked for a moment before her hands found his, stopping him from securing the belt, and gently but firmly removing them from her waist. Catching her had been appreciated, but this was far more familiarity than she was comfortable with by a stranger. Off of a dance floor at least.

​"I may be just a doctor, but I think I can manage to buckle a belt on my own," she said dryly, finishing the job herself. "Tada." But she offered him a half smile. They were, after all, on the same side here.

The same side of what? She breathed in deeply, looking around. The corridor was lit only by the red emergency lighting, bathing everything in a ghastly glow. The scent of burning electrical components was thick on the air, but beneath that was a far more familiar smell.

Blood. Death.

Her smile faded as that hazel gaze swept the hallway. Where was [member="Cait Falcor"]? Where were the other survivors? Surely it couldn't just be them-

Just the thought of being the last alive chilled her to the core. Again.

Fortunately, not only was she wrong, but she was given very little time to sit in that cold, dark place that lived in permanent isolation in the back of her mind. Proof of at least two survivors reached out of the downed ship simultaneously. Down the corridor to her right, she heard the echo of a woman's voice ([member="Kyra Sol"] ) calling "Hello? Anyone here?" She turned in that direction, calling out herself.

"We're here! Follow the sound of my voice!"

She made no attempt to keep quiet. After all, if more people heard her, so much the better in her reckoning.

Her attention in that direction meant that she missed the arrival of [member="Akilah Samara"], but the sound of the frightened voice stammering "I- I, who are you?" brought her attention back to the left.

Irajah nodded after Nate spoke, offering an encouraging smile. Her tone was gentle as she slowly approached the other woman.

"He's right. We won't hurt you. Are you okay? My name is Irajah. What's yours?"

In truth, Irajah was less interested in the name specifically. But she could see the blood on the young woman's forehead and face. Even a small cut on the head could bleed profusely, so looks could be deceiving. But until she was sure, she was going to assume that there was the potential for a head injury of a more serious nature. She needed to gauge if she were confused- well, beyond a normal confusion that came from being in a crash like this.

She knew that there had to be other survivors- and that they needed to find them. But she also couldn't ignore someone who might be seriously injured right in front of her. Triage and move, she thought to herself. Triage and move.

Speaking of.... she hadn't missed Nate's little demonstration. But she couldn't address it now. Later however, she might have some very.... pointed.... questions for him.

But it could wait. Right now, there were things that needed to be addressed and couldn't wait.

Triage and move.

 

[Cait Falcor]

Cait Falcor
Coruscant Queen - Promenade Cabin
_____________________

Cait could tell that things were not good. Just keep pressing the mic, she'll get here. But for Cait, the strength to even press a button was fading. She still couldn't feel one leg, and the other seemed more like a concept or an idea than anything she could properly feel. Breathing came in shallow, gasping breaths, and all over she felt cold.

How did we even end up here?

***​

The question was more philosophical than anything. Cait remembered, vaguely, a Messenger Drone on Yavin as she and Ven were wrapping up there. "Keep an eye on [member="Irajah Ven"], but remain undetected. We need her safety guaranteed. She is still of value to us." The message had contained a large, unmarked Cred Stick and the promise of another, twice as large on completion. There were no other details. Cait didn't like Cloak and Dagger, but it was hard to argue with that many zeros.

***​

Cait continued to clumsily push the mic, and struggled to speak. She kept her eyes closed tight against the dust in the room, but even still, she could feel tendrils of blackness creeping in on the edge of her vision. Ven...she can make this better. The choking contaminants - likely the result of a failing O2 Scrubber - made her throat feel scratchy and dry.

Anything for water...so cold.

Somewhere, inside Cait knew she could just let go, and all of this would stop. She could be with the rest of her mates - Delta Company. She could - with surprising clarity - see them beckoning for her. There was Gearbox, and Sev, Maco and of course Gunter. All the rest of them, waving at her to come and have a drink and get in another round of huttbull.

She reached out to take Maco's hand. This was going to be such fun! Oh how Cait missed the old gang.

But Maco lost her hands when the dropship crashed. You saw half of Gearbox's head blown clean off by a TIE Bomber.

Yea. But he's right there. Don't be silly, he's fine.

Sev ate a lightsaber for lunch...saving YOUR ass. This is wrong, and you know it...you're not done.

But it would be so easy...She said to her own internal monologue tired and meek.

***​

​

A broken body lay, half under a Sabbac table, one hand lay near its neck unmoving. If it breathed, it would be impossible to tell, the chest barely moved at all. And then, with one last, weak gasp. It stopped.

***​

The voice - so eerily like her own, but...better...boomed back But Falcor's don't GET to do the Easy thing. We don't leave anyone behind...

***​

​

The body lay like this, for several moments - the entire chamber seemed still.

***​

​

Ven - Your Friend - needs you. GET UP FALCOR. GET UP.

***​

​

Cait Falcor's broken body sucked in a great gasping, shuddering breath, her hand - with one final adrenaline fueled effort depressed the sub-vocal comm unit and she croaked out but two words. The sound, barely louder than a breath, but the vocal cord vibrations more than enough for the comm-unit to send its message.

To her mind, she fairly screamed it - but the reality was markedly less impressive. "IRAJAH! Promenade!" she sent over the comm-link, and then slumped, totally spent.

***​

Cait Falcor lay there sobbing, her eyes closed shut as hard as she could, trying to hold onto them. But try as she might, the images began to fade, and one by one she lost them...just like she had on Rendili.

Gearbox.

Sev.

Maco.

...Gunter.

Cait Falcor was alone, with her demons, and it was almost enough that she wished she'd let go.

_________________

 

[X30-20G]

As the droid's systems had finished rebooting,It's deep,raspy voice rang out through the room, "Grrreeeaaaatttt,major damage." It looked at the luggage that covered it,and looked to the ripped bag next to it. The bag had a large number of credits,which had been ripped apart and sent everywhere. The droid began pushing luggage off,as it saw it's hat across the room. It stood up,it's left eye sparking,the glass coming closer to shattering every second. It threw the last box across the room,as it picked up it's hat. The steel on the hat had been burned on the right. "Get a durasteel hat,they said,it wouldn't take damage,they said" the droid mumbled to itself. It stumbled forward,it's legs struggling to stand. It opened the door,stumbling out.

 

[Progflaw99]

“Open space is only the embodiment of a supernatural and wonderful existence. It is nothing but love and emotion; it is the 'Living Infinite'​

​

...The universe began with space, so to speak; and who knows if it will not end with it? In it is supreme tranquility.”​

​

― Jewls Vurnn, Twenty Thousand Parsecs Across The Universe​

​

​

​

​

The flight had been uneventful, a casual glance around the cabin from time to time between changing pages in one of her favorite books. She'd found it hiding in a small novelty shop on Sullust, once of those silly little gift stores they try to nab tourists with, or in most cases new joins to the Galactic Alliance. She'd learned a lot during that trip and she'd wanted some time to decompress so she'd booked a flight on a small shuttle to Dantooine and then on to the The Coruscant Queen. She calmly read through the book, a few spots of turbulence here or there as they changed directions or between hyperspace jumps. Truthfully, she hadn't paid much attention to the where they were going so much as when the flight was leaving. She'd been one of the first few to arrive, choosing a small seat in the rear of the main passenger cabin. She was never in a hurry and didn't understand why people fought over the seats closest to the door. As she took a break from reading she paged to the inside cover where she'd scrawled her name. Lilith Sedarri. She thought on that for a moment. For the first time in her life she felt truly free, able to do what she wanted to do. She'd been on her own for several years now but her days at the orphanage still felt like yesterday... or did they? She'd come so far since those days, and all on her own.

She looked back to the text in her book, enjoying the fantastic tale of Captain Neemu and his spectacular spaceship, travelling unhindered through space. It was a wonderful tale and she almost felt like a part of it here in the vastness of space. There she was, looking out of the viewport again as the stars flew past, little more than white lines. It was almost relaxing, or at least it had been until the sharp jar and rock of the ship began causing everything around her to tumble and spin. As she looked up from her book, her grip on the book tightened. At first it seemed as if all would right itself, and that's when another sharp jolt sent her head forward, directly into the seat in front of her.

Twhaap

With a quiet sob Lilith's hands left the book, rising to feel her nose. Certainly she hadn't broken it, it didn't hurt. She could feel her heart beating in her chest and then in her throat as the ship continued to tumble, rolling and spinning out of control. She would have let out a shriek but instead she was struck with silence, her eyes frantically trying to make sense of the cabin around here, her insides seizing as it tried to hold down the actually decent in flight meal she'd finished about fifteen minutes ago. She heard a clatter behind her as the engines began to ramp up, it almost felt like they were falling. She looked towards the rear of the craft from her seat... which is precisely when the metal tray came flying towards her. With nowhere to shift or move it hit her square in the head, right above her right eye... and then there was nothing.

​

​

Pain. It was the first thing that suggested that she was indeed alive. It wasn't a dull pain like a headache, that would come later. Instead, it was a sharp pain, cutting through the fog of unconsciousness. As her eyes snapped open the pain grew tenfold, or at least that's what she thought at first. She tried to cry out but she couldn't... a sharp fit of coughing as dust was forcefully expelled form her battered body ceased any attempt at speaking just yet. With tears rising from her eyes... wait. Rising? She blinked blindly a few times trying to get her bearings. She was upside-down. That explained the tears. The second thing she noticed was the inexplicable heat. It wasn't a dry heat like Tatooine or Jakku but a tropical heat, the air thick with moisture. Normally she would have loved to visit somewhere tropical, but the fact she was hanging upside-down in a crashed ship ruined that somehow. Taking another deep breath she tried to clear her lungs, doing her best to avoid another coughing fit. She needed to get out of this stupid harness keeping her stuck there, suspended above the mess abo... below. Hanging from her harness was messing with her head, disregard the fact she'd taken a heavy blow as she was knocked unconscious.

There was no telling how long she'd been out, minutes, hours? It hadn't been a day yet, or at least it looked fresh enough... though she didn't personally know what a freshly crashed ship looked like from the inside. As her eyes searched for a way out of the harness they landed on a small buckle. The attendants had gone over how they worked at the beginning of the trip and Lilith was a frequent traveler, enough so she knew the buckles well enough. Forcing her arm up towards the buckle she depressed the button in the center, with her other hand bracing herself for the inevitable fall. A faint click could be heard as the locking mechanism released and the harness let Lilith's small frame dropped from the upside-down seat. With her quick reflexes and death-grip on the back of the seat in front of her, she was able to get her feet down to the ceiling turned floor. That didn't feel right... the floor was soft.

"Eeeek!"

It was raspy but it was an audible shout as Lilith quickly shuffled her feet. She'd stepped on a hand, a hand belonging to some poor soul who'd not been buckled in when the ship had encountered whatever problem it had. She cupped her hand over he mouth as her lunch once more attempted to surface. Swallowing forcefully she was able to keep it at bay. She started to wonder who it had been, her eyes drawn to the lifeless hand as a bug to a heat lamp... until she forced herself to look away. Not now, she had to get out. Though many of the pre-flight safety briefs were different, they all highlighted that in the event of a crash, the best thing to do was to get away from the wreckage as fuel tanks and high energy circuits could still be live and dangerous for up to days even after the initial impact. Lilith didn't want to leave that to chance. As usual, Lilith had been wearing a dress and she silently cursed herself for her choice in clothing. Right about now, she'd kill for a pair of cargo pants... that got her thinking. Her carry on. It had been wedged in the compartment above her seat, which was now located at her feet.

Taking a deep breath she prepared herself, gently moving the arm with her foot she reached down and forced open the compartment. She smiled. Despite the horror around her, she had found comfort in knowing her bag was still here. She retrieved her bag. It didn't contain anything particularly valuable, but it did contain a spare set of clothes, something more suited for active activities than the dress she currently wore. The cabin was dark as she looked around her, nothing moving. She'd been in the far back of the ship.. it didn't look like it had saved many around her. Cautiously she raised her voice, wondering if anyone else in the cabin had survived... maybe others in some of the forward cabins had made it, the darkness inside the hull of the wrecked ship made it hard to make out much except her immediate surroundings.

"H---Hello? Is anyone there?"

As she raised her voice it sent he head swimming. Everything sounded funny, as if it were underwater. The pain above her eye had dulled slightly, now blood had begun dripping down the side of her face, but it was a slow flow. She would have to take a look at it later, right now she was more concerned with escaping the shattered hull. She steadied herself against the seats hanging from the ceiling, trying to get the spinning to stop. Perhaps she was more banged up than she'd thought. Hopefully someone heard her, she felt inexplicably weak. It must have been the blow to her head. She hoped she didn't have a concussion, but that would explain some of the nausea and dizziness.

 

[Nate Phantoms]

Now, not by any means did he mean anything as he attempted to wrap the belt around her waist, he was merely being himself, just being down to earth and going with the flow. As she removed his hands he nodded, stepping to the side. As she mentioned, he did realize that she was a rather smart woman (doctor, duh) and in him trying to clip a belt for her could've been taken as an insult to her intelligence, which was not what he meant at all. Now his turn to be embarrassed, he uttered softly "Right, my apologies"

When he too heard the voice, he would go to yell back, but she beat him to the punch. Now he was in a little predicament. There was now three people who needed assistance and only one of him. He was a very fast runner, but even two minutes gone, and both the softer and the new girl could be dead, or worse, taken by whomever or whatever lived on this planet. "Should I go get them? I can bring her back here, and once we patch up their wounds...maybe search for any more?"

His course of action was still undecided, as if anything did happen to [member="Irajah Ven"] or the woman before him, he'd feel accountable. Tough times call for tough decisions.

[member="Akilah Samara"], [member="Kyra Sol"]