To the Stars and Back Again

[Progflaw99]

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--- \\\ --- \\\ ---​

Wake Sequence Activated​

Please Standby​

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With a quiet hiss and a pop of the ears, the cryo-pod began to come to life. An electronic hum filled the small command chamber, each capsule containing a member of the Ch'otcarun'o's command officers. As the capsule's door separated from its body a hiss of steam and compressed chemicals filled the air, condensation forming on the exterior of it. The lone Chiss male inside was clad in little more than undergarments, a dark form fitting shirt contrasting with his blue skin. Eyes closed, he almost looked peaceful there, yet to awake.

With a chirp, another whirr filled the air, a small pump sending stimulants through the pod's systems and into the man there. His body began to react immediately, a deep intake of breath, deep crimson eyes snapping open - a gag, cough even as his hands clawed for the sides of the pod. Half stumbling, half climbing, the figure fell out of the pod with a clank of deck plating below. On hands and knees he retched. *Cryo-sickness.* He'd read the manuals, been to the briefings, but those hadn't prepared him for the insufferable waves of nausea which now gripped at his stomach. Another retch as he fought the urge to claw at his eyes - he couldn't see anything, the world a painful ball of eclectic light. *It will wear off. That's what the manuals said.* He had to trust what he'd read - and as he gave in to the effects of the chemicals on his body the light began to fade, vision began to clear. The knot in his stomach remained.

The man's hand reached out to the central hub, using it as a brace as he forced himself to rise from the ground. Steadying himself as he felt his stomach flip he cautiously opened his eyes again, tears forming at their corners. He cleared his throat, the sound echoing in the small chamber - and then he began to move with purpose. Flipping several switches overhead, he activated the console. The man was rewarded with a gentle chime and a whirr of systems as the other command pods came to life. For some reason those hadn't been deactivated automatically as they should have. Priority one was figuring out where they were, and why they'd dropped out of hyperspace. At least, he assumed they had - the subtle hum and buzz of the ship in hyperspace was absent. Absentmindedly he looked over his shoulder to the cabinets beside the cryo-pod. Upon its door could be seen a label: Saren. His uniform could come later, right now time was of the essence. It was with an urgency that he began flipping more switches, activating the holographic display on the central console, the holotable coming to life, a three dimensional model of space surrounding the Ch'otcarun'o flickering before shining brightly.

*That can't be right... It can't be.* The man's eyes narrowed as he read the text towards the bottom of the display.

Rakatan Archipelago \\ Unknown Regions​

​

Spoiler

Premise:

Unknown Regions \\ Rakatan Archipelago \\ Near Makatak
Date: Unknown
Status: Degraded
Wake Sequence Activated

Perhaps you were a member of the original crew, a doctor, a scientist, a security officer, an engineer, a politician? Or maybe you found yourself a stowaway in an extra cryochamber aboard the CNV Ch'octarun'o. Either way - you now find yourself coming out of a long cryosleep but all the systems seem to somehow have experienced a glitch. The last thing you might remember is crawling into an unoccupied cryochamber only moments before the CNV Ch'otcarun'o jumped to hyperspace on its journey.

The CNV Ch'otcarun'o. A monumental undertaking in and of itself - a colony ship, designed to travel through deep space, uncharted space, and colonize another galaxy. The shadow of the One Sith had been expanding for months and now, at the edge of Ascendancy space, a decision was made. One that would see the Chiss people survive no matter what events would transpire at the hands of the Sith or their lackeys. Members of each family were volunteered, some of their own volition, others by their families Aristocra - though the Aristocra themselves would remain. A symbol of solidarity for their people.

The project itself was classified - highly, in fact most records were destroyed or simply not even created in the first place. In only a few short months a hierarchy of their own was created, established - and enforced. It was like looking in a mirror, the faces and names were different but by and large the crew of the Ch'otcarun'o would operate like a smaller version of the Ascendancy, at least in theory. Minor tweaks were needed - politics were simply not nearly as important as the survival of their race, and so they did away some of the original structure, instead relying on the framework to serve its purpose.

As the vessel jumped into hyperspace, everything seemed normal - the CNV Ch'otcarun'o gone in a flash. The ship was expected to remain in hyperspace for at minimum 10 years, many of the vessels systems automated and maintained by a complement of droids and computer systems. Who knows how far the vessel traveled before it encountered the very thing that would send it careening back into realspace - perhaps they'd hardly left at all. What is known, is that some time after entering hyperspace the vessel encountered an uncharted anomaly which sent the vessel careening off course - however it happened, whatever caused it, the Ch'otcarun'o has emerged from hyperspace in the Unknown Regions, a stroke of luck placing it not terribly distant from the core Chiss worlds once held by the Ascendancy.

Only now are the computer systems beginning to wake the command crew, then the ship's crew. The civilian pods however have malfunctioned, unable to be deactivated by automation and will require a manual disengage to wake them. Upon initial inspection, the crew might find the navigation systems scrambled, their position unknown, date unknown, situation - unknown.

Important Links:

CNV Ch'otcarun'o
Cryo-Stasis (Sickness)
Rakatan Archipelago

 

[Progflaw99]

Slowly at first, then more quickly Saren's eyes scanned the readouts. *No. No, everything is where it should be - these are the correct coordinates.. but how?* So many questions, running through his mind in a daze. The effects of the cryo-sleep had yet to fully wear off. It was another wave of nausea that sent him moving for the locker behind him. *Stims.* Reaching out, he unlatched the handle, a solid clunk as the mechanism turned inside. With a quiet squeak the locker opened. Hanging just inside was a uniform, boots and helmet near the bottom - the shelf above contained a small silver case. It was for that case Saren reached, and after several attempts managed to collect and open. Inside four small vials - one containing a row of yellow pills. With an expression of relief Saren quickly uncapped the vial and consumed two of the small pills. Anti-nausea medications - that too had been a part of the pre-launch briefing. Only time would tell how many people remembered.

Now that he'd confirmed their location, there were other things to worry about. When they'd left - the One Sith had been encroaching ever closer to the Chiss worlds - even now they could be within OS controlled space. With a frown of concern, he quickly reached back into the locker, shrugging into his uniform and sealing his boots. By now, several other of the command crew had begun to stir though it would be several minutes before any of them were in any capacity to return to their duties. It was time - while he could still manage some of the vessel's systems from here, the obvious choice would be the bridge. From there he could get a clearer picture as to the situation of the vessel and its occupants as well as the situation in the sector.

It took him a few more minutes before he had ensured the rest of the command staff were coming to - their names escaped him for the moment but they would come back. Another side effect of the stasis, though now he was mobile. Snatching the utility belt hanging within the locker, he quickly strapped it around his waist, the charric pistol settling nicely in its holster as he wuickly exited Command Cryo and headed for the bridge. It would be a full ten minutes before the civilian pods began to deactivate and enter their wake cycle, but as it stood the crew pods would be doing that as he traversed the corridors to the main bridge.

 

[Alleycat]

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Crimson eyes fluttered open slowly, then fully to a blinding bright light and chemical stale air that made them tear and worsen the already blurry vision experienced. A strangled scream from a dry throat filled the individual cryo-stasis pod as the occupant awoke from their cryo-stasis cycle to find themselves still inside the small, cramped space.

Fatigued muscles from none-use lifted what seemed like super weighted-down arms so blue-hued hands could push up upon the pod's transparisteel canopy essentially trapping the woman inside. Panic was beginning to set in the female Chiss who was claustrophobic to begin with until finally the top of the pod began to give way and opened. A rush of recycled air of the pressurized ship greeted her nostrils with a big breath taken in. Suddenly a wave of nausea hit. The blue-skinned, near-human rolled to her side dressed only in a standard-issue bra and panty set, then hung her dark head over the side of the pod and proceeded to vomit violently not once, but three times. Now a pounding headache followed, which made it hard to think though training helped to negate that factor some.

Pushing herself up from the bed gingerly, affected legs the same as her arms swung slowly off to the side to dangle for a moment as yet another bout of nausea came and went. There was nothing left in her stomach to come up making dry heaves the outcome.

Bare feet were extended to the cool metal decking. In a way the cold felt good reminding the Chiss of mornings spent on Csilla while serving at the medical center in icy capital city of Csaplar. Her own homeworld of Sposia was more temperate yet still could be chilly at certain times of the standard year. The young Sabosen was not homesick per se, but wondered what the situation was back in Chiss space as the mission had launched just prior to the One Sith's final push to take the Chiss capital planet.

While standing experimentally at first, them more confidently a distressed call came from another Chiss who had already exited their pod in the section. The doctor in her went into motion as glowing red eyes spotted what the nature of the problem was... The Chief Medical Officer's cryo-stasis pod had been compromised and the male Chiss was obviously long dead from asphyxia. A small hairline fracture was noted in the corner of the transparisteel canopy. It was a known danger and a risk they all took going into this deep space mission along with countless others known and unknown. It was the latter that would be the hardest to deal with as no protocols or procedures were planned to deal with them directly. Though, Chiss were very resourceful and more so critical thinkers so the species was well suited if any to survive in the wilds of deep space.

"I will inform the Syndic... Now, everyone take your medication as instructed to do, get dressed, and start the checklists of your various assigned positions. Report any abnormalities or deficiencies noted to your department heads."

Trying to still get her space legs as everyone was, Kema'nes'sabosen found the locker in the 'stick' she was assigned to with her name on it in Cheunh, then opened it. She picked up the small silver case from the bottom of the locker that had the medications in it that would help alleviate the symptoms from the 'stasis sickness. With the yellow pills taken along with an additional blue one for the headache that had a vise grip on her head, and a red one to 'pep' her up. Next came the young doctor's uniform, like the others though a jacket was worn over it and a med kit was attached to the utility belt. Long, nimble fingers ran through her chin-length, jet black hair hopefully bringing some semblance of a controlled style to the silky mop.

Closing the locker with a heavy sigh as the meds had not had time to work completely into her system yet, "Anessa" would need to contact asap the leader of the colonization project so she could report of the death of Drak'iel'sabosen as the CMO's position would need to be filled asap to make sure the ship's medical department ran efficiently. Though first, she'd need to get the worker droids to take the deceased body to the morgue and clean up any bodily fluids expelled by the crew upon awakening. Disease could spread quickly on a ship and that was something that needed to be minimized as much as possible.

Activating her personal comm, Anessa called the command center.

"Syndic [member="Safis'are'nuruodo"]... I am Kema'nes'sabosen. I need to report that Vosiserci Drak'iel'sabosen did not survive the cryo-stasis cycle as his 'stasis pod was compromised."

 

[Progflaw99]

The Command Bridge was only several short turns away from Command Cryo and as Saren entered a voice cut through the comms.

"Syndic Safis'are'nuruodo... I am Kema'nes'sabosen. I am here to report that Vosiserci Drak'iel'sabosen did not survive the cryo-stasis cycle as his 'stasis pod was compromised."

*The others have begun to wake. Good.* Internally his mind began pouring through data. Names, faces, ranks. Stepping towards the primary command console on the bridge, he input several commands - a hum began to fill the ship as systems began powering back on and corridors came to life. Chief Medical Officer aboard - dead. Such things were planned for. It was a tragedy, certainly, but it had been expected that some would not survive the journey. Frowning, he pressed a button on the console before him. He had come to a decision. Activating the ship's communication system he responded.

"Kema'nes'sabosen - Get to the Medical Bay immediately. I expect a full report on our crew and status within the hour. Consider yourself the Acting Chief Medical Officer. Congratulations Vosiserci."​

​

Cold perhaps - but that was the way of things. People died, roles needed filling. Saren had taken it on as a personal responsibility to have an intimate knowledge of the command structure aboard the Ch'otcarun'o. He couldn't picture the woman's face - it was hard enough to keep his department heads committed to memory, knowing each and every one of the occupants was something he was going to have to continue to work on. Not an easy task when your crew and complement numbered as many as they did. Was it unfair of him to assign the voice on the other side of the comm such an important duty? Perhaps, however fair was never part of the equation. Duty above all else. It was the case with most things, and it was a concept Saren adhered to almost religiously.

As his eyes did a preliminary sweep across the sensor data and readouts he took a deep breath. Nothing was as it was supposed to be - save they hadn't been destroyed as a result of their journey. Saren didn't know what had gone wrong, but according to navigation they had wound up nowhere nearer the edge of the galaxy and instead had ended up widely off course. He was puzzled - they hadn't even jumped in this direction, and yet here they were. The Rakatan Archipelago. He understood a fair amount of the data being displayed some would require a more specialized eye. With a few simple inputs, Saren pulled up the Command Staff Status readout - all had made it out of cryo without complication. A silent acknowledgement was as much attention as he gave it, leaving the rest of the report to their newly appointed Sakn. Keying up the console once more - he fired off a quick message to Engineering.

\\ RUN DIAGNOSTICS IMMEDIATELY. REPORT DUE, 1 HOUR. \\​

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With the message sent, he had more pressing matters to attend to. It would be hard on the crew, but it was a necessity. Unceremoniously spat out of hyperspace, situation unknown, was no place to be - especially with the threat of the One Sith lurking in the shadows of Saren's thoughts. The how or what happened could be answered after the present was accounted for. Inputting several more commands at the console, the ship's interior lighting dimmed, a single tone coursing throughout the vessel. An automated voice sounded over the din.

:: Yellow Alert. All Personnel Report to your Section Heads. ::​

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Already the rest of the command crew had begun to filter in. Quickly they began taking their posts and getting to work - the vessel needed to be brought to combat ready status in a hurry. *Combat status.* Saren thought dryly. The Ch'octarun'o was anything but a combat vessel. He did have to give it credit though, despite its size and lack of maneuverability, the vessel did have a significant number of defensive systems. It would be enough to see them back into hyperspace at the first hint of danger at any rate. As the last few members of the bridge crew reached their stations, Saren's voice rose once more.

"Get me current scans of our surroundings. I want telemetry data sent to the science lab for analysis. Communications, scan for Ascendancy frequencies. Con - keep us ready at a moments notice. Security, arm the crew, sidearms only." Saren took a moment, looking to the newest arrival to the bridge - the First Officer, Ath'erro'nuruodo. "You have the bridge." His command was met with a curt acceptance.​

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Footsteps making sound on the metal of the deck, Saren headed towards the science bay. He needed to figure out what was going on - no doubt the Chief Science Officer would already be making their way towards the lab as well. They needed so many answers, who knew what the galaxy looked like. According to their systems they'd been in space nearly a decade - but that couldn't be right if they just emerged back in the very same galaxy they'd left...

[member="Kema'nes'sabosen"]​

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​

 

[Progflaw99]

The silent hum of the ship's systems was almost eerie. Much of the crew and complement were yet recovering from the cryo-sickness, though the medication had been engineered well. Soon the empty corridors would be filled with crew, busting towards their departments, security staff overseeing the initial disarray as they prepared to continue their journey. A twitch tugged downward at the corner of Saren's lips, an uncharacteristic sneer crossing his features momentarily. *Annoyance.* Likely a product of the stasis and medication, he felt inexplicably irritated. Taking a deep breath and exhaling, the Syndic firmly deposited the small charric weapon into his thigh holster, his deep crimson eyes tracing towards the long corridor that would take him back to the bridge. From there he could address the crew. Some had been lost, and they would have their moment - a brief and to the point reading of names followed by a brief moment of silence. As far as how the bodies were handled - well, that was up to their new Chief Medical Officer.

With a purpose he tread towards the bridge, only several minutes passing before he'd returned. As he stepped onto the bridge, the First Officer turned from his console, addressing Saren.

"Thirty minutes until reports are made, but all systems appear green. Casualty reports are still filing in Sir."​

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A silent nod was given in acknowledgement as he stepped towards the Primary Command Console. Several moments of silence passed before Saren spoke.

"Get me a line to the crew. Con, set a course for the Core worlds."​

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A pair of curt acknowledgement filled the air briefly as the officers went to work, orders carried out instantaneously. It was in that moment Saren began visualizing the words he was to give to the crew and complement of the Ch'otcarun'o. To lose people to malfunctioning stasis pods was inevitable, but even he hadn't expected the high mortality rate. It was duty above all else, lives lost not in combat but in the line of duty no less. To their credit, everyone knew the risks when they signed on for this adventure. Soon enough he'd be forced to give an address to the crew, an address to those aboard, but first... he wanted those reports.

[member="Kema'nes'sabosen"]​

 

[Progflaw99]

"Sir! Reports are going to have to wait, we have achieved a lock on an active Ascendancy Comm channel, but they're speaking... basic?"​

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Saren's piercing gaze shifted, focusing in on the comm officer who'd spoken. A raised eyebrow was all the expression he could muster, but his interest was piqued. *A communications channel still active? That means they must not have been destroyed.* Externally his demeanor hadn't changed, cold, calm, confident, but inside was another story. The thought of home, ​of families and responsibilities left behind - he couldn't think about that now. The next logical step was contact. He took a few quick steps, standing behind the officer as his eyes scanned the screens. Carefully he fitted the earpiece over his ear as the comm officer handed it to him, the voices on the comms demanding his attention. The content of their conversation he couldn't make out but there definitely weren't any Cheunh words. He stood quietly for a moment, listening as he mulled over something in his head.

"Set us up to transmit on that channel. " He turned to the rest of the bridge crew. "Reports will wait - be ready to move at a moment's notice."​

​

Saren knew what came next was risky. The Ch'otcarun'o wasn't a warship, she wasn't even equipped for combat except a few primary weapons systems but even those were more for show than actual use. If their transmission was received poorly, or by the One Sith, they would most certainly be surrounded in short order. A ship as large as it was and with no stealth systems would be a juicy target for anyone interested in going after the vessel, they needed to be sure they could leave in a hurry if that happened. Rising from where he stood hunched over, he keyed the mic as he addressed the ship before sending a message across the Ascendancy network.

:: Crew of the CNV Ch'otcarun'o, Please standby for hyperspace travel. I realize many of you have just awoken from cryo-stasis and are still trying to get your bearings. I ask as your Syndic that you remain in your quarters until I give the all clear. Your section heads will have more information soon. ::​

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Anxiety. That was the emotion he felt at the edge of his consciousness. It was a strange feeling but one Saren didn't have time for, and so with some effort he pushed his doubts to the back of his mind. Now was the time for certainty, a firm hand and not one that would waver or hesitate. It was time. Reaching up to the earpiece, his finger hovered over the button, an inquisitive glance falling upon the Chiss Comm Officer. As he nodded back to Saren, his finger depressed the small button, opening the transmission on the channel they'd identified.

:: Any station, any station. This is the CNV Ch'otcaruno. Please respond. This is Syndic Safis'are'nuruodo, commander of the vessel speaking. Please respond. ::​

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[member="Isamu Baelor"] | [member="Zeradias Mant"] | [member="Srars'emaso'csapla"]
[member="Kema'nes'sabosen"] | [member="Feng'arua'nuruodo"]​

 

[Alleycat]

"Kema'nes'sabosen - Get to the Medical Bay immediately. I expect a full report on our crew and status within the hour. Consider yourself the Acting Chief Medical Officer. Congratulations Vosiserci."

"Yes, sir, and thank you, Syndic [member="Safis'are'nuruodo"]," Anessa responded curtly, then ended the comm call. There was much work ahead and time was of the essence.

Willing her body and mind to kick into full gear, Kema'nes'sabosen pushed on and made her way to the medical bay. It was slowly coming to life as personnel began to trickle in from their designated stick locations. Quickly, the newly appointed acting Chief Medical Officer slipped into her position and started giving orders to her subordinates delegating tasks as well as activating certain protocols since their awakening from cryo-statis had not occurred on schedule nor under normal conditions. It was already evident that a heavier loss of life would be the case as the initial reports that were being gathered showed along with an increase in known complications associated with the cryo-statis cycle in general.

When the ship went to Yellow Alert, the CMO was just about to enter the vault to check on the most valued cargo on the ship; samples of various staples of the Chiss culture as well as DNA of their race for repropagating upon colonization of their new home. A security officer caught her just before doing so and issued the doctor a side arm as ordered. Anessa nodded, slipping the Charric pistol into the empty holster slot on her utility belt, then she instructed him to stand guard as the security codes were entered and the heavy hatch door opened. Glowing crimson orbs peered at the control panel just inside and noted that one of the four banks that housed specimens was offline. There wasn't even a red warning light, which meant there had been a complete failure of the unit. Upon closer inspection everything within the bank was a loss. This was not good, but not a critical setback yet. If they lost any more banks though, it would be. She checked the others and found them to be within normal limits.

​This finding would be reported along with the updated medical status of the surviving souls aboard the Ch'otcarun'o. For now, Anessa re-secured the vault, then the doctor would return to the medical bay to see to her duties until called upon otherwise by command. It was also time for her second around of meds and a lovely tasting ration of green slime in a squeezable tube, which would give her struggling body sustenance in a metabolically specific dose of nutrients for this stage of the post-cryo stasis cycle. The next few hours would remain miserable as their bodies reorientated themselves with the aide of a strict regimen of drugs and slow reintroduction of food per protocol, but then the body functions would start normalizing and people would recover fully, hopefully.

​

 

[Progflaw99]

"No response sir, the frequency looks solid but we're not getting through. I'm running a full diagnostic on the Comm gear now."​

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Saren nodded, his crimson eyes poring over the readouts. It had been years since he'd personally been assigned a communications role but he recognized much of the readout. Everything looked good across the initial scan but they'd have to wait for the full report. Perhaps the same thing that had sent them spiraling back towards the core had caused some sort of damage to the array. As much as he would have loved to wait, watching as the diagnostic completed, he had other issues to attend to. If communications were out there was no telling what sort of trouble they could be in. Taking a few strides towards the commander's seat, positioned to the forward left of the bridge, he set himself down. Silently his eyes searched the void beyond, answers to the questions he had eluding him and yet to make no decision would see the end of them all, of that he was certain.

"Get me a star-map, and get our section heads up here immediately. I need our Chief Medical, Chief Science, and Chief Security Officer on deck now. The Aristocra are summoned."​

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The next few hours would determine much more than they might have imagined. What choices lie ahead would directly change the course of fate, and should they choose incorrectly or poorly, that fate might very well swallow them whole. Saren took a deep breath, rising from his chair and stepping towards the display table in the center of the bridge. His eyes scanned the display as a bridge officer input commands on the table's surface, bringing up a real time display of their location. Coming to life, the display flashed, planets, stars, asteroid fields all appearing via holographic projection.

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[ Img Source ]​

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Ship system readouts began populating as modules came online, standard diagnostics populating readouts from power levels to ready states across the ship. Much of it told the Syndic what he wished to know, however the in person reports would divulge a much more complete picture as to their status. Studying the readouts and star-maps, he began to formulate a plan - but to take action he was going to need the input of the Aristocra - at least the ones on board. Did the Ascendancy yet draw breath? If so - would they view the crew of the Ch'otcarun'o as a threat to their sovereignty? There was much for the Syndic to consider but for now, he would wait to brief not only the Aristocra, but the section heads as well. To make an informed decision, each one's presence was required.

[member="Kema'nes'sabosen"] | [member="Kema’ira’sabosen"] | [member="Feng'arua'nuruodo"] | [member="Srars'emaso'csapla"]​

 

[Enara]

Come on, the woman thought, not daring to waste her little remaining oxygen by vocalizing the thought. She was tinkering with wires, attempting to manually route power back to the small oxygen generator which recycled the air on the shuttle. The last kerfuffle she had found herself in had left her without life support; she had already gotten the heat turned back on. Unfortunately, she didn’t have the emergency power to keep the artificial gravity working and the shuttle very warm; specifically, she’d set it to 8° C and thus was visually aware of each exhale, reminding her that she had one less breath left on the ship. If she had grown accustomed to the chilly temperatures on the arctic home world it would have been that much less comfortable. Another reason to be proud of her Chiss heritage. Come on. If I could just get this… a spark interrupted her thoughts as energy surged through the new connection- her heart jumped and she almost smiled before realizing she had only served to create a new problem. The circuit was fried. A grim humor crept into her mind; well, that’s one fewer system to worry about.

“Warning,” the automated voice of the shuttle rang out in crisp, clear basic. “Oxygen levels are dangerously low. Depletion is imminent.” She couldn’t help but release a sigh, one hand pinching the bridge of her nose in a universal sign of frustration. Thank you for the reminder, she thought as she pulled herself out from under the panel she’d been working with. She reached over and grabbed a small oxygen tank and mask, taking a deep breath in before setting it back above the control board. She began to move towards the main controls to get a system check when she potted her reflection in the view port. Oh dear, she thought as she examined her terribly messy hair and filthy hands from rummaging around in the ships wiring, I am positively revolting. She grabbed a rag that she kept not far and, finding a rare clean space on the once white cloth, scrubbed the filth off her hands before turning to her hair, ensuring it fell just so. Feminine, but professional. If I am destined to be a preserved forever in the vacuum of space, I had best ensure I die looking presentable.

“Warning, oxygen levels are dangerously low. Depletion is imminent.” Her red eyes narrowed at the repeated phrase; it had been sounding for the last twelve hours. She brought up the computer’s automated warning system on her command screen and pressed the ‘deactivate’ button with a satisfied thump. She had only just leaned back in her seat when the voice came again, “That order has been overridden by the vessel’s safety protocols. Warning, oxygen levels are dangerously low. Depletion is imminent.” The woman couldn’t contain a scoff of that, at least it’s designed well. She turned her attention back to checking the systems; life support was dubious at best, weapons were down, her shields would likely collapse from fright alone if they encountered anything fiercer than an unarmed transport, structural integrity was on the verge of failing, sub-light engines were functional but power had been diverted from them to keep her from floating about, navigation was damaged but working relatively well, and the communication system was on the verge of dying too.

Her thoughts drifted unwillingly back to the single escape pod waiting in the back. But the memory of her location reminded her that the escape pod would be no help. After the last pirate raid had taken such a toll, she’d intentionally jumped into what passed as the middle of nowhere. This far into the Unknown Regions, the only good the pod would do her was to permit her a longer life but less dignified death. She had no intentions of spending even her final hours cramped in a small pod floating aimless about the fringe of space. A terribly undignified way to die. Suddenly, she heard something coming from the comm system which caught her attention. She spun her chair around and paying very close attention to the message.

:: Any station, any station. This is the CNV Ch'otcarun'o. Please respond. This is Syndic Safis'are'nuruodo, commander of the vessel speaking. Please respond.​

Curiosity sparked in her eye, the voices had come through too clearly. The channel was an old one, from the days of the independent Ascendency. These days it was mostly filled with background noise bleeding in from other channels also used by the Chiss. There was no chance of them getting a response, no other ships were monitoring the frequency. That was precisely why she had been using it, a chance to hear what the Chiss and their Iron Imperial masters were doing without risking her own position. I should ignore it; too risky. “Warning,” the automated voice chimed its counterpoint, “oxygen levels are dangerously low. Depletion is imminent.” Then again. She attached the earpiece and pushed to speak through, taking a deep breath from the oxygen tank first and speaking in Cheunh. “This is Commander Kema’ira’sabosen to the CNV Ch'otcarun'o'
broadcasting on the Chiss Ascendancy frequency. Syndic Safis'are'nuruodo, please state your reason for using this channel and intentions.”

Unfortunately, due to the extensive damage to communication system, what was ultimately broadcasted was the following;

::... Commander Ke….sabosen… Ch'otcarun'o'… the Chiss Ascendancy…. Syndic Safis… please state… intentions.::​

​

Kema'nes'sabosen

Safis'are'nuruodo
Feng'arua'nuruodo
Srars'emaso'csapla

 

[Alleycat]

"Time of death.... 1421," Anessa stated matter of fact to the nurse while looking down at her wrist chrono, then she stepped back from the patient on the medical bed pulling off a pair of gloves with no other emotion shown for the deceased crew member, turning immediately on booted heels to drop the latex and cover gown worn in the biohazard receptacle on the way out of the trauma room.

Chiss physicians were taught to not feel, objectivity only, but each and every death weighed heavily on Kema'nes'sabosen and took a piece of the young doctor's soul each time. There were always the "what if's" that plagued her mind. Could she had done something more, different, picked up on the symptom earlier? But in this particular case, the engineer had thrown a massive clot from his leg to the lungs causing a pulmonary embolus. He had been a smoker from the nicotine stains on his fingers so it had predisposed him more to the higher possibility of developing this life-threatening condition above others who had been in cryo-stasis.

"Doctor... You have been summoned to the command deck ASAP per the Syndic."

Anessa gave a curt nod of understanding to the messenger as she finished drying off her hands after washing them at a counter sink, then she grabbed her datapad and headed out of the med-bay.

Stepping off the turbolift onto the command deck, crimson eyes spotted Saren standing at the center table looking over a star map with a furrowed brow. Anessa walked up to the opposite side of the table from Safis'are'nuruodo, but did not disturb his thought process with a greeting awaiting him to give an acknowledgment. The comm officer would be interrupting him in short time any way as someone was hailing the Ch'otcarnun'o from the Chiss Ascendancy. The communication was broken at best. Would this be a good thing or bad... Time would only tell.

[member="Kema’ira’sabosen"] | [member="Safis'are'nuruodo"] | other Chiss joining

 

[Progflaw99]

Saren was nothing if not an agile thinker. He'd already begun comparing star charts, comparing distances to the resources he had available. The Ch'otcarun'o's quartermaster had already provided a preliminary report of their supplies - the man was efficient it seemed, likely what had landed him a position of such importance. Frustration. At least that's what Saren assumed the tense clutch within his chest was. Along with their loss of crew, they'd also sustained minor damage to one of their cargo modules. That along with the strange occurence which landed them in the Rakatan Archipelago left them in a poor situation. They lacked the resources to truly travel, the majority of their systems depleted and degraded during their cryosleep. They would have to choose their actions carefully.

"Cut life support to 75%, notify the Chief Medical Officer of my decision."​

​

"You can tell her yourself, Syndic."​

​

As if her ears had been burning, the Chief Medical Officer had stepped out of the turbo-lift and onto the command bridge. An raised eyebrow and a tightening of his lips were the only indication Saren gave as to her presence, at least initially. It was in the process of recognizing her arrival that his thoughts had been interrupted, the voice of the comm officer cutting through Saren's internal monologue.

"Syndic - we have a message coming through - it's in Cheunh."​

​

Practiced hands manipulated the controls of the console, directing the received signal through the speakers on the Bridge. The message replayed, static dominating the transmission. It played twice before Saren rose his hand, signalling the cessation of the message. Little was known of the mysterious voice on the other side, though by all appearances it was one of their own, or at least someone fluent in Cheunh. The gears were turning, a decision precariously balancing on a pinhead. In their degraded state, the Ch'otcarun'o was in no shape to fight off a calculated assault, in fact it likely lacked the capability to run for long at risk of expending it's final resources to escape rather than to establish a colony. They were now up against it, time no longer a luxury and yet - who were they? What was their duty? Saren knew the answer to the latter, but the former had yet to be discovered.

"Respond with this message, boost the gain and lock onto the source."​

​

Speaking into the small earpiece he'd donned, he patched into the console. As Anessa approached, he held his hand up indicating a moment. Returning the message in kind, he spoke in Cheunh.​

​

:: Commander - this is the CNV Ch'otcarun'o, Colonization vessel. Your communication is broken and cutting out. ::​

​

​

[member="Kema’ira’sabosen"] | [member="Kema'nes'sabosen"]​