Private Wildly Toxic Surroundings

[In Rhan]

Hauling freight out to the middle of nowhere was a good way to make some money if you were lucky - there wasn't a lot of competition for contracts, mainly because you couldn't be sure you'd be able to turn a profit on the way back. Nowhere stations had to move things too, of course, but an isolated settlement might only have a few tonnes in need of hauling and not enough variety to pick and choose from. That said, In had had more than one reason to come out to Durace. Sure, the lonely little research station above the toxic planet needed biomass for whatever reason and she was being paid to move it. But In had also heard that Durace's poisoned atmosphere had led to some downright bizzare flora and she'd been eager enough to get a chance at a look that she'd lowballed the contract. Aside from some small settlements on the poisoned surface, most business came through a small corporate station in orbit owned by a fly-by-night (likely shell) pharma company that went by Medi-creen.

The fuel costs could be tomorrow's problem.

Docking at the corporate station had been easy enough. Normal broadcast codes provided with her contract, normal dockmaster bribes, a slightly unusual request that she wear a breathing mask so as to not catch some illness going around. In had steered the Dancer in Green into Bay 19-37 as instructed (though it appeared that she could have taken her pick, as all other bays appeared empty at a glance) and the tired old freighter had groaned the whole time. The atmospheric thrusters were starting to buck in a way that was getting harder to ignore. She'd scribbled a note down and stuck it onto her console alongside a dozen other reminders for a dozen other needed parts, fit her ventilator, and descended from the Dancer's belly alongside her freight containers. An irritable looking old Devaronian met her the moment her boots hit the bulkhead.

<Welcome to Medi-Creen Station. Manifest?> The Dockmaster requested in brusque Huttese, sounding as though she were congested even behind her ventilator. The starport was as much a ghost town as the empty bays suggested. In could spot less than a half-dozen workers. The remainder were droids. Not terribly unusual for a backwater corporate station, though usually not to this degree.

In handed over her dataslate, eying the small team of droids unloading her cargo. They'd probably be at it for a few hours, she judged. <Got it in full. Anywhere on-station you'd suggest for dinner?> The Pantoran woman asked, making an attempt to be friendly.

<Only one restaurant open. Population is under a hundred.> The Devaronian grumbled, tabbing through the shipping manifest. <Andros only opens up when he feels like it. You might get lucky. Keep your breather on, though - nasty flu going around.> She warned, thrusting the dataslate back into In's hands.

<Good thing this is a pharma station, right?> In chuckled quietly. She didn't like the look the dockmaster gave her in return - too much fury for such a blithe statement, sudden and blazing in her eyes sufficient to force In to reflexively take a half-step back. Something was going on here, and In now dearly wanted to have her freight offloaded and put Medi-Creen Station behind her.

The Devaronian woman turned and began a bow-legged saunter back towards what was presumably her office. <Andros' is the only place to eat if you're eating, or drink if you're drinking. Other than that, you're better off staying on your ship.> She advised.

Caught between a desire for safety and a growing biological need to not eat the same nutrient bars she'd gotten wholesale for this trip, In hesitated only a moment before setting out into the nearly-abandoend Medi-Creen station - keeping her blaster in mind all the while. She passed less than six people, all wearing ventilators and uniforms. None of them especially friendly. The station had been set up for commerce, but nearly every office or storefront had been shuttered. Sections of the station lighting were simply turned off, presumably to save power.

Periodically, In could hear a sound like coughing or growling coming from deeper sections of the station. What was going on here?

 

[Niysha]

There were so many Rims in the galaxy that at times it was difficult to keep track of which one you were in. This was not one of those times. Only one place in the galaxy was so desolate and empty as the Unknown Regions. Durace was a middle-of-nowhere even by toxic rock standards, and its sparse and empty orbital stations were similarly inhospitable. Niysha had been on Medi-Creen for just a couple of days, a layover on her way back to civilization. That'd fallen through relatively quickly, but in a very positive way.

She'd noticed almost immediately upon disembarking from the previous freighter that something was wrong. Unhealthy. A flu tended to rip through spacer populations very quickly, and corporations were quite predictable in how they handled things. Lock down, sterilize, quarantine, burn, have scientists poke whatever was left. And that worked for a lot of flus and viruses and the occasional plague. It wasn't working this time, because this wasn't any of those things.

Niysha had spent two days in a no-tell motel, wandering around the station into places both populated and silent. The Force was ripe here, dark and as toxic as the planet below, but in a wildly different way and intriguingly familiar way. It wasn't a perfect match, but the darkest whisps that blew through Medi-Creen were reminiscent of something from days long past. Something old enough that many had already forgotten, and quiet enough that most would never have known in the first place.

It would've been enthralling, if Niysha couldn't see through walls. Things - it was the only way to describe it - danced at the edges of her Sight. Years of practice had made her good and wary of focusing too sharply on anything that didn't come into view clearly on the first pass. She especially didn't focus on the heart of it all, pulsating deeper in the slowly emptying, slowly quieting station.

For now, though, the wayward Miraluka made her way to Andros' place. Nutrient paste was still plentiful, but she had made a point to get flavor whenever and wherever she could. More importantly, she needed to surround herself with as much life as possible while it lasted. She was going to have to journey deeper at some point, to find what she wanted... but putting dangerous things off was one of her most important skills.

 

[In Rhan]

In had been in a lot of canteens over the years. Some where honest eateries, most were bars with a couple of miserably fried or reheated offerings, a few were just gathering places for the community - because nothing brought people together like food. From the look of it, Andros' might have started as the former. The exciting, xeon sign that had likely once cost a pretty penny now cast a sickly purple pall over the station hall, and noisily flickered like an old comm unit about to give up the ghost. The inside was even less promising than the outside suggested; a hole-worn rug lay over the metal bulkhead in a lazy fashion, nearly all of the chairs still up on the tables despite being early evening on a Zhellday. A haggard-looking Togruta stood in the window of a dim kitchen. Perhaps once upon a time, Andros had had his kitchen open to the dining floor to showcase his skill and let inviting scents waft out. That window now served as a frame for the portrait of Andros' misery, a showcase for congealed cooking oil and the acrid stink of industrial cleaners that didn't appear to be having the desired affect.

In re-considered her desire to get a proper meal in. The faint flicker of life in Andros' milky eyes when a customer entered, though, convinced her to stay. She wasn't sure if she could eat anything from here, but she knew she couldn't just about-face and walk back out after two seconds in the place. In couldn't be the straw that broke what remained of his spirit.

She reluctantly took a seat at the counter, glancing at an old menu with most of the items crossed off. Andros continued to stare at her expectantly, though he remained silent aside from the wheeze of phlegmatic lungs behind a respirator.

"..Caf? Please." In eventually requested, trying to figure out what on the menu would be least likely to make her sick. "And, ah - a handpie." She added. Such things were undoubtedly prepared in bulk and frozen, which meant that Andros would most likely toss them into a reheater. he didn't seem to have the energy for anything more ambitious. Luckily, this would minimize the amount of time he spent handling her food.

The door to Andros' place opened a second time, the soft whoosh of the doors shattering the silence - sufficient to scare the hell out of In. She reflexively laid a hand on her blaster, turning to see a harmless-looking Human woman with a blindfold standing in the door. In hadn't realized how on-edge the silence had made her. She chuckled apologetically, turning away from the newcomer.

 

[Niysha]

Empathy was something that Niysha had gotten used to not shortly after she'd left the service of actual Sith. Being the low man on the totem pole meant that she was closer to the people being trod upon than those wearing the boots, and it didn't take her more than a few months to fully break herself of the last vestiges of "authority" that she'd been endowed with in her brief time in the sun. Now, when she looked at someone suffering - when she saw deep into their soul, to the currents of their heart laid bare by the Force - she could feel kinship with just about any Rim scoundrel.

Andros was worthy of empathy. Never pity, but always respect. There had been a dream on this station once, and he had held that spark in his soul in a way few others had. You do what you can with what you're given, and he did so very, very much. His reward for dreams, passion, and the will to act upon them would've been depressing to a normal person. Niysha's heightened emotions instead managed a flicker of silent, looming rage.

There was little she could do to make things better permanently, to redress this crime against one single man who mattered very little in the grand design. For now, though, there was something she could do to brighten his day as she had for the last few. She gave him a smile when she entered, bowed silently to the other customer, and made her way to a seat near the other woman in the room, at the counter.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Andros," Niysha began in her quiet tone, warm in her own detached way.

"Jury's still out," he replied in a characteristically sour rumble, though there was a spark in his aura that Niysha had seen light up when she'd come back the second time. It fanned brighter now, hotter. Almost a cinder. If all she could do was nurture that flame... "The usual?" The Togruta's creased face and imminent scowl drew her back to the present.

Her response was, as before, gentle. Barely above a whisper. "Yes, thank you. It was the best thing I ate yesterday." The smell of the caff machine caught her eye. "And one cup of that fresh caff, please."

Niysha had already placed a few hard credits on the counter before she'd finished ordering. Slightly more than the listed price, as always. She didn't tip generously, because she wasn't in a financial position to be generous, but she absolutely paid more than her share every time.

Her attention turned to the woman beside her, as did her head a few moments later. Andros had already left to the kitchen to begin working on a sandwich - bacon, a leafy green, some kind of sweet fruit - with enough seasonings to make it interesting. It was the only thing he was proud of, from what she could tell. He couldn't make the things he used to love, but she could experience the tiniest joys left in his life with him. Her mind finally caught up with her attention, and her face.

On the other customer. "Hello," she offered quietly.

 

[In Rhan]

It was a little amazing - she'd been on the station for probably less than an hour now, and the sound of a light conversation was already a little unsettling. Jarring. In wouldn't have guessed that Andros would have been able to string that many words together, but she was mostly just relieved that another person here seemed relatively normal. She cradled her hot cup of caff when it arrived, eying the nascent sandwich the woman had ordered. It looked almost normal, even good. Probably better than her frozen handpie, which he hadn't even started yet. In lifted a hand slightly as Andros shuffled back into his den. "Is it too late to have one of those as well?" She asked hopefully.

Andros gave In a look she couldn't decipher. Sullen? Grateful? Apathetic? Maybe all of the above. He did reply with a small nod, or at least In thought he had.

Right. The girl with the blindfold. The girl who could apparently breathe life into the poor old cook and knew just what to order. In offered a polite smile, not sure whether to be reassured by how normal she looked or put off by how much that normalcy clashed with what she'd seen of the sickly corporate station thus far.

"Hey there." In greeted in return once she'd had a tentative sip of her caff, raising the clean-enough mug in a loose salutation. "I'd ask if you came here often, but - I've never actually seen somebody successfully order a 'the usual' before." She chuckled. A hesitant pause, an appraising look. "...but you don't seem like a local. No offense."

 

[Niysha]

The other customer was tense, wound tight. Shades of suspicion and unease swirled equally tightly in her aura, with the tiniest gleam of hope and relief. Facing her. Facing Niysha. She took a moment, processing that the Medi-Creen station was a horribly claustrophobic and paradoxically empty ghost town, menacing with the quiet rot of corporate disinterest and broken promises. Niysha wasn't affected by this; most of the galaxy was hollow, bleak, disappointing, and a bit dangerous. Most people lived in those conditions, and for her, those conditions were temporary, so she paid it no mind. To an outside observer, though, she would seem... singular.

"None taken. Your instincts are solid. I would have already passed through, if the flight to Iokaido hadn't been delayed," she replied. Her smile was extremely muted by human standards, but it was there. "I've only been here for a few days, and Mr. Andros' cooking has been the highlight of each one."

That cinder glowed a bit brighter. When she saw it, Niysha's smile got a little broader. The smell of caff didn't hurt, either.

"It's an unfortunate time for you to land here. Things are getting... somewhat worse." Slow, measured speech. Overstating nothing. Revealing no more than necessary. Niysha carried herself the way one would expect of a blindfolded mystic, though obviously visibly younger than the stereotype. "Do you happen to have a ship?"

 

[In Rhan]

In found herself nodding in affirmation before she could remind herself that telling strange women in stranger canteens ANYTHING about her life was not best practices. The frizzy-haired woman's calm was infectious, in a way - not in that it made In want to be calm, but more that it was the single non-unsettling interaction she'd had on this station since she'd arrived. If she hadn't seen the woman talking to Andor and him replying, she might've thought she was a phantom or something. In didn't necessarily believe in that specific kind of hokum, but one had to keep an open mind out on the rim.

"I have a ship." In confirmed, nursing her caff. "Freighter. They're unloading me now. Mostly droids, so it might take awhile."

The woman seemed relatively normal. Whatever else was going on here, it seemed like it'd be a shame to leave somebody to it. In couldn't help everyone, (past delivering biomass for presumably food processing at what was nearly a loss to her) but she might be able to help someone. She considered for a moment, huffing her bangs away from her eyes. "I was hoping to get a return contract back coreward, but I don't think much is shipping out of here." In sighed, extending a hand. "I'm In. In Rahn. Are you interested in booking space, or...?"

The lingering question, essentially - did the calm woman have money to pay for passage, or was she hoping to get by on charity and work? Not that the latter would prevent In from taking her on, but the Pantoran could certainly hope for credits and quiet over a potentially problematic pseudo-employee to manage on the return trip.

 

[Niysha]

The energy of the room shifted from frenetic to casual. Almost homey. Excellent. That sort of change wasn't uncommon for Niysha, but there were times when it was more sorely needed than others. Andros had enough on his plate without a spacer halfway to freaking out on his bench, and it was much easier to negotiate passage without needing to calm someone down in a very pointed and direct way. Especially when her request was a bit more complicated.

"I have credits," the Miraluka replied openly, "though admittedly not as many as you'd prefer. I'm willing to pay for passage conventionally." There was clearly more to it. Niysha didn't let the ambiguity fester for any longer than it took her to take a sip of caff and let it sink in to her potential ride off-station that she could pay. "But." Yes, obviously. "If you're willing to barter, I have something that might be much more interesting. A risk, of course, but with the potential for more than a few hundred credits."

She paused for several seconds, making "eye contact" with In. "It is not drugs," she assured in a tone flat enough that someone could've played a laugh track in response.

Andros brought out sandwiches. As always, they smelled far, far better than anything else on the station. His private reserve of his own meals, prepared for himself when he felt he needed a treat. His aura had suggested he enjoyed making them, which made it an easy decision on Niysha's second visit. She gave a short smile and a nod of thanks, then dug in eagerly. It might've been a bit jarring to see someone so calm and reserved wolf down food like a street kid.

When she was finished, she addressed Andros with a genuine grin, then returned her attention to In, awaiting a response.

 

[In Rhan]

Poised and understated, enigmatic, then grinning and inhaling a sandwich like a hungry teen. This woman was odd. In had thought she was strange in contrast to the rest of Medi-Creen, but it was beginning to feel like she was just odd on her own merits. After a couple bites of her own sandwich, though, In could hardly blame her enthusiasm - it WAS a pretty good sandwich, even if it was mostly salad on bread. Far better than anything she'd expected from Andros. She glanced up to find him making dull but expectant eye contact while she was midway through a mouthful, and offered her compliments in the form of a full-mouthed, awkward smile and a thumbs up.

This seemed to assuage to Togruta. Perhaps motivated by the energy of two satisfied customers and impending tips, he began wiping down a counter with a slightly less filthy rag. In was grateful for his attention focusing elsewhere. She dropped her voice slightly, giving the brown-haired human a cautious look.

"I don't move slaves, I don't move bombs." In stated in a firm whisper, moving to the seat next to the woman - who still hadn't given her name. "Not that I'm accusing you of it. If that's what you had in mind, we can part ways here." She explained. "I just find it better to clear that up out in front of everything else." It was setting a hard limit, sure, but in setting that limit you also made clear how many things short of that event horizon were on the table. You could break a lot of laws before reaching the severity of slavery and bombing. And anyway, she absolutely needed the money.

A packet of sweetner added to her caff. Keeping her hands busy helped her think. "What'd you have in mind?" She asked, the sweetness in her voice slightly forced but not quite as artificial as what she'd just put in her cup.

 

[Niysha]

Hostility wasn't unexpected this far out. Niysha took it in stride and reached into her bag, pulling out a datapad. She tapped it twice, bringing up a holo of a few old, oblong, complicated stone sculptures. In the center of the image was an unassuming cube with a few boxes and facets that looked almost like glass. The statues were confusing, but the box was something very exciting for anyone who knew what it was.

"I'm an artifact hunter, at times. This time, specifically." Her tone was even, and she didn't lower her voice. Nothing to be ashamed of and nothing illegal. "These are my current crop. To the right sort of buyer, you could manage a few thousand credits." To the perfect buyer they were literally priceless, and would be enough to send any spacer without means into an extremely fat and lazy retirement for two or three generations of equally-fat children. The perfect buyer for this sort of thing, though, didn't like paying for it.

Something was happening outside. Niysha hid her frown and kept her attention on that, baring only a bit of recourse to read In's aura in response. Focusing in two directions at a time was difficult, but she was extremely good. It didn't seem to be dangerous out there yet, but it wouldn't be long at this point. The darkness was quite literally closing in, though no one on the station would likely even realize it. They had... maybe a day? Maybe an hour. Maybe a few minutes. Time was extremely short. Shorter than she'd expected.

The danger would be mild at first. She'd have to use that to her advantage, quickly.

Her expression was difficult to read, on account of the lack of eyes, but that just meant it was harder to tell if she was distracted or just unable to convey the emotion she wanted. "Again. If this isn't of interest, then I can pay. I have a few hundred credits. Less than you'd likely prefer, but I'm willing to part with it to get these pieces back to civilized space."

Guards were moving about three blocks down. In force. Aggression was high. Rising panic. Andros' walls were impervious to the charged air outside, thick with confusion, fear, desperation... they were closing in. This place would be safe for quite some time.

 

[In Rhan]

Artifact hunting. In had never dabbled in that sort of thing, really. Sure, she'd moved some questionably-obtained art from here to there, and some of it had had meaningful cultural importance. Or so she'd been told. While In wasn't uneducated, she certainly wasn't educated in that direction. The Pantoran pilot couldn't help but wonder at the nature of this strange little cube and the statuettes flanking it. but stopped herself from wondering about it TOO much.

She was pretty sure she'd had a friend who had a little cube like that. Said he'd found it in a shuttle wreck, that he had a buyer lined up with a price tag hefty enough that he was going to retire to Kothlis or somewhere and drown himself in lekku. In hadn't seen or heard from him again. She'd need to be careful about this.

"Interested enough to nibble." In decided quietly, giving Niysha a shrouded, guarded look that was likely lost on the blind woman. "I'll need more information. Stipulations."

Caff done. Set aside. "I have no idea what's going on on this station, but either way I'm looking to get the hell off of it as soon as I'm cleared for takeoff." In asserted. "About three hours, I reckon. If you're coming with me, we'll need to be ready then."

In laced her fingers together on the counter, the heel of her boot tap-tapping anxiously on the floor. "Do you have the cargo ready to go, or am I assisting with acquisition and freight? And do you have a buyer lined up?"

 

[Niysha]

Business time. Niysha wasn't a business person, but she understood this part of the game well enough. "I've had many buyers in the past. No one in particular is lined up for this set. I will be offloading them onto the first interested party." They were just Rakatan statues, anyway. Hardly impressive. The holocron, of course, was far more interesting and far more valuable. That's where the majority of the thousands of credits would be coming from. And it was never hard to find a buyer for an ancient holocron of dubious quality.

"I have them on-station. The accelerated timetable complicates things, but I can have a crate of valuables and a pack of my belongings on your ship before then," she answered as directly as possible.

More movement. Reinforcements outside? They were likely already approaching the barricades. No blaster fire yet. It was likely station security had found a way to stall them outside of the inhabited areas. The deeper areas - engineering, life support, propulsion, long-term storage - were likely their first warning. Niysha didn't react. Instead, she focused her attention back on In. Anxiety raising. She needed to address that.

"This portion of the station is safe, and will be for several hours," she reassured. It may have fallen a bit flat. "I won't ask you to act against your better judgement, but if you cold find it in you to stay docked here for a bit longer, I'm beginning to take note of a matter of interest that's developing much more rapidly..." She stopped a moment, cocking her head to one side. "...I am a creature of unwise curiosity, Ms. Rahn. How could I convince you to stay long enough for me to investigate?"

 

[In Rhan]

This was stupid. She might like this woman's taste in sandwiches and her calm demeanor, but In had no reason to trust the blind woman as far as she could throw her. The artifacts weren't worth a damn thing if they couldn't find a buyer, they weren't worth a damn thing if they died before they could leave with them - and this part of the station meant that the rest of the station was not as safe. In hadn't and didn't exactly feel safe here. Sure, she wanted to help the frizzy 'Artifact Hunter', but in no way did In want to die for her 'unwise curiosity'. Who the hell WAS she, anyway?

In huffed slightly, furrowing her brow as she looked away. During the lull in conversation, Andros stepped out of his sad kitchen to retrieve their plates and fill their caff. He moved like rigor mortis had already set in, like every joint was arthritic and so, so tired. But... he hesitated slightly before clearing Niysha's plate and gave her an inquiring look. In wasn't an expert, but the man seemed almost disappointed that he coudn't make her another sandwich, and the ghost of a smile appeared on his lips when they talked. This was stupid. But if that was who the woman was, perhaps stupid was a better option than cautious.

In just hoped that this wasn't going to be another case of her getting pulled into a farce due to a combination of pity and her desire to impress somebody attractive.

Deep breath. Rub the bridge of the nose. In centered herself. "Alright. Will my direct assistance help expedite this process at all?" In offered, folding her arms on the counter. The question was more than a little terse, but it was far from guarded. She was in this now, and pivoting from raising stipulations to seeking solutions. Her priority was still to get off the station - preferably with valuable cargo and a kind person on board.

 

[Niysha]

It was impossible for Niysha to get a twinkle in her eye, but the surprise flicker of a genuine grin across her lips was probably equivalent. She took another sip of her coffee and turned to face In more directly. Her voice was almost excited. "There's no plague on this station," she stated boldly, though just as quietly as every other word out of her mouth. "No sickness. At least, not the kind that can be cured with quarantines and vaccines."

Turned to face In, Niysha struck a slightly different profile. Her pants were... practical. Sturdy canvas cargo pants, well-worn. Her shirt was tight enough not to catch on things, but not for attractive, stylish fashion. Her boots might well have come from In's own closet. But her words? Those did not belong on a rustbucket station orbiting a death ball and bleached with corporate xeon.

"There's something here. The air is thick, but not with contagions. Atmospherics and engineering seem to have been shut down in the last two days, which easily explains the difficult breathing situation. But that doesn't explain the security." Her smile was almost genuinely gleeful. "There's something here, causing it. I've seen this sort of thing before and I can find it."

She paused. "The good news is that the thing causing it is very rare. Rare enough that I would give you my whole shipment and every contact I have to sell it by way of payment if you were to meaningfully help me disable it. Doing so would stop this whole quarantine and, not to blow our own horns, single-handedly save the station." And? "The bad news is that it's... very deep in the station. Deep enough to be quite dangerous. Hence why I'm only asking you to delay, and I do not expect you to join me."

 

[In Rhan]

It sounded like nonsense. It'd be very, very easy to dismiss this ridiculous hokum for what it was and just walk away. Backwater, nowhere stations got hit with issues and went twiggy all the time - everybody had a story about how the lights had gone out on a perfectly normal crew of people due to some electrical bug and had come back on two days latter to a bunch of half-mad cannibals or the like. Sure, people whispered about Jedi and Sith, rumbled about the Force and darker things yet, but how much of that was actually real? How could it even be real? How could removing one little set of statues possibly improve (and possibly save) an entire station? What a ridiculous notion. Ludicrous, even. Frizzy hair had clearly gotten a delayed dose of the crazies. might even be a local girl with a big imagination. Not IN's problem, surely.

There was no logical way to explain why a sculpture could do this. There was no logical reason for In to put her neck out even if there was. There was no logical explanation for how Niysha managed to meet her eyes and react to her expressions when she was wearing a thick blindfold and In was increasingly sure that there was nothing behind it. Why she was just now noticing that her coffee partner wasn't wearing a ventilator and seemed to be no worse for it.

"I can't sell it without you." In decided quickly, slapping down enough credits for her lunch twice-over as she stood up. She left her blaster in the holster, but thumbed the safety to make sure the weapon was nice and warm when she needed it. "Two is safer than one, so e=we'd best get to it. Lead the way, frizz."

 

[Niysha]

Niysha's smile didn't change much, but she noticed her aura brightening a bit. Just the same as In's own aura managed to stiffen up, mute a bit. Less anxiety, more... apprehension. That made sense. She wasn't working off of a lot of information. Fortunately, Niysha had little need for cryptic mysteries or half-truths. She'd explain the whole thing on the way.

Ah, right. A name. She'd forgotten that, somehow. "Niysha, Ms. Rahn," she replied simply. "My name is Niysha."

Without another word, the Miraluka gave Andros a wave and left out the only door, Pantoran companion in tow. When they hit the streets of the station proper, heading for the outskirts patiently but very surely, Niysha finally started talking. "This isn't a traditional virus. I've seen it before. It's called mechu-deru. Normally it's not physical in form, but I've seen it stored in artifacts. It's likely that one of the Medi-Creen shipments brought one in for study a week or two ago." How they even got their hands on it was a much greater mystery, but fortunately, that wasn't nearly as interesting to Niysha as getting her hands on the artifact itself would be.

The corridors didn't blow so much as gently breeze past. Niysha did not walk quickly, more perpetual motion than darting energy. As she passed gatherings of security personnel, corporate agents, and the occasional very unlucky station citizen, the vision was always the same. Rising fear. Rising panic. Anxiety. Uncertainty. They were approaching sealed bulkheads. On the other side were... things. Shapes in the edges of her vision.

"While it has many effects, mechu-deru most frequently takes the form of a semi-sentient, parasitic, technological mass," she continued, then turned to stop when she saw the... sudden and abrupt change in In's aura. "It has no supernatural properties other than propagation. Without a controller, it's diffuse and not nearly as dangerous. Mobile elements can be disabled easily enough with blunt trauma and blasters."

Oh, if Adekos could see her now.

 

[In Rhan]

It was nice to be told what was going on. It'd be even better if she understood a lick of it. Sure, the broad strokes were all there - virus, not-virus. The statue made people sick, so they were taking it away. It was from somewhere else, anyway. Parasites, mass, supernatural... she almost chuckled at the reassuring news that the mechu-deru could be handled with guns and the like. If it existed, which In wasn't quite ready to commit to the idea of. However Ina didn't need to subscribe to the hokum to know that something profoundly wrong was going on on Medi-Cree Station, and if going through these motions had a chance of fixing it, then she would do so. If going through these motions only allowed her to assure and evacuate one crazy blind girl, then that was also a worthy endeavor.

Unless it got her killed. In that case, it was foolishness.

Where Niysha glided purposefully, In nearly stalked. She was tall and gangly for a woman, and her thin build was anchored by heavily armored boots and work gloves. On a less graceful person, her gait might be close to plodding. As it was, In moved with an urgency and skittishness that made her seem like she was in a hurry even as she matched Niysha's speed.

A chill settled over In as they drew close to the sealed bulkhead, a sudden apprehension building in her heart. Anxiety, sure, but also a surety that whatever lay on the other side of that door wanted her to die. Not for something as pedestrian as territory or for her scant meat, but because it specifically wanted people dead., and wanted it to hurt the entire time. How dare she doubt their physicality? After a furtive glance over her shoulder, In drew her blaster while gathering her courage. They had to get past the things, and if she didn't help then Niysha would do it alone. She would die.

Her shipping contract had given her industrial access to the station. In swiped her credentials at the control panel, cursed a little when it went green, then gave Niysha a coordinating nod. Then felt stupid because blind. She counted down in a whisper. "Three... two...-"

With a woosh, the doors slid open.

 

[Niysha]

On the other side, the station wasn't nearly as pitch black as one would have expected. After all, engineering may have been lost, but reserve power would likely last for another few weeks at a minimum, and that was with ruptures. Instead of ominous darkness, what greeted the other side of the door was more hallway, somewhat rusty with proper, late-stage corrosion near the corners. This was in stark contrast to the landing bay and habitation areas. While greasy and poorly cleaned, none of them were in decay.

Another door waited a twenty meters or so down the line. Niysha stopped only long enough to check the area ahead to make sure nothing was going to surprise her. It was basically impossible for something not to surprise In at this point. The corruption here was... aggressive, but not sentient. Like lichen growth. There was a broken screeching sound deeper into the station, barely audible from their position. Metal on metal, like a large machine had slipped its track and was grinding on a wall. The air smelled strongly of rust. Very, very wet rust. Niysha had no frame of reference, but there was no rust coloration anywhere. The corrosion was blackish-silver, like dirty chrome.

"When we open this bulkhead, it'll likely alert whatever moving entities are beyond this point," she explained as gently as possible. "Most of them are probably insensate. We would be able to sneak past if there was a distraction, or maybe even if we didn't have to force the door open." Insensate moving entities that spread like a plague. No one had said "zombies" yet.

"Please keep your blaster handy. I'm not very good in a fight." There was no visible debris to pick up and swing like a bat, but Niysha wasn't going to draw her lightsaber. After a moment, she produced a shock baton from her bag and snapped it open. Shortly afterwards, she remembered that she needed to turn to face who she was talking to.

Despite the tense situation, Niysha managed an uneasy smile. "...Sorry. I'm a little frantic. I've never been this close before." Not since she was much, much younger, at any rate. "...If you want to back out, you still have time. I can probably do this on my own."

 

[In Rhan]

The station looked sick. In had seen plenty of structures in poor condition, and dozens more wrecks - it just came with the territory. She'd never really felt a great urge to anthropomorphize structures and ships, not even her own, but it was almost impossible not to do so here. In had only a couple weak guesses at what might be causing the blackish-silver corrosion. Some kind of catalyzing chemical agent breaking down the durasteel? A microbal or fungal assault growing small colonies on the surface of the bulkheads? An acid leak somewhere in the walls? All of them explained some of what she was seeing, but none could explain all.

None could explain why it felt so cancerous. In's first instinct was that the sickly black-and-silver slicks were not unlike suppurating wounds, and that the wet, rusty stench in the air - something you never wanted to experience planetside and was almost unheard of in space - was the humid breath of a sick, feverish soon-to-be corpse. An old man laying in his own sweat and filth, heaving his last ragged breaths. Why the fuck was she even here. Why the fuck did she want to cry.

In didn't even bother adressing the offer to withdraw, she'd had her own personal crossing of the river a few minutes ago back at the bar. Back when all of this could have just been silly nonsense she didn't have to care about, peddled by a cute girl with nothing to do. "It's alright. I'm terrified. Insensate. Dumb?" In clarified. She scanned the area. "I'm not great in a fight, either. But maybe..."

Blind girl. Dumb, angry monsters. Niysha knew what they were looking for and how to get there, she just needed to be safe on the way there. In's eyes lit up as she approached the bulkhead. "If the environment alarms work - lots of noise, flashing lights. It'll probably disable me, but you'll be fine." In suggested hopefully. "Distracting. We pop the door, pull every alarm, and rush for the thing during the confusion. I shoot the ones that get close, you guide me. Yeah?"

 

[Niysha]

Oh that was just an absolutely terrible idea. Niysha opened her mouth to respond. "I don't think-"

The sound of blaster fire exploded down the hall. The barricades with the security guards in them had likely broken the ceasefire. Men shouted, weapons sounded off, and there was an unbelievable noise. A shriek like metal on metal, but rasping and reverberating. Niysha flinched at the noise, of course. The thumping sounds, the echo in the halls. But the part that provoked an immediate and violent reaction from her was what she could see. The darkness smothering the station moved like a single, contiguous lifeform. A mighty, ambulatory blanket covering the entire hab block. A jellyfish the size of a whale, made entirely out of the absolute worst, most toxic forms of the Force.

From the Miraluka's mouth came two words. "Go! Now!" And her fist slammed the access panel.

The door hissed open to much dimmer, much patchier lights. The room beyond was larger, probably a secondary atrium that'd been closed off when the infestation became too terminal. Small bridges over an open gap into what looked to be pitch darkness from this angle broke up what otherwise would've been a metallic cavern. No station would have been built like that. No space station this small needed an open room this big. But it wasn't difficult to ascertain what'd happened.

The silvery-black lumps and lesions started right above their heads, right above the opening of the door, and continued up into the darkness above. The room was far, far larger than it should've been, and judging by the snail trails of dirty chrome reaching into the shadows, that was by design. There were lumps of things that looked like they had been, at one point, kiosks, apartment doors, or open offices. Now they had piles of metal lingering on top of them, sloughed like frozen blobs of magma.

Niysha, of course, took this in very, very quickly and redirected her attention to what was relevant. "Not alone!" she shouted, pointing to the bridges. A dozen people were standing still, or wandering around in a drunken daze. Upon more than a cursory inspection, they were most definitely not people any more. Niysha immediately doubled back behind In, and trusted her blaster work while she looked for... something?