Beneath the Waves

[Corvus Dravere]

Aalay​

Theme​

Their planet was as welcoming as a barred door in a blizzard, and there was no getting around it. Thunderstorms wracked the coasts with an intensity and regularity that often boggled the mind. Anything above ground was usually flooded if it was built near the coast, and the dense forests and seemingly never-ending tundra each offered their own hardships. They kept outposts all over, but for most, their home lay below.

Beneath relentlessly frothing waves of deep ocean green capped in grey, where the continental shelf ended in a sheer cliff that descended with dizzying rapidity into the void below the world; this was where they settled.

Above it, at a volcanic island of rare tropical jungle, lay a small starport. A clearing had been made a short ways away from the beach, a strip of concrete joining it with a dock that jutted into the sea like an accusing finger. Standing on that dock, looking to the sky where a small shuttle burned it's way through reentry, was Corvus. His helmet was on, his grey eye lenses as dead as they ever were, a hand raised to his forehead to shield his eyes from the mid-day sun.

The speck was growing, and the shuttle he'd sent to fetch [member="Daisy Americus"] had been a Dravere Clan vessel. In the event of a serious thunderstorm - like the one rolling in off the horizon just then - he wanted a ship he knew he could trust. While they weren't close friends with the Americus Clan, they were friends. Acquaintances, more accurately, but they had welcomed the Americus without incident to their new home in this neck of the woods and in the world of those Star Spangled Mandalorians, that counted for more than most.

It was why he'd extended the invite to Daisy. She seemed to be the most naturally inquisitive, and likely would benefit the most from a visit to the Dravere holdings. Daniel had struck Corvus as a young, bluster-filled male (hadn't they all been, at one point?) and that meant he would likely be more concerned about defenses and weapons. Military knowledge did not understanding make, but Daisy seemed more concerned with the people than the tools.

That may just help smooth things over a bit more between them. They were opposites in personality, and that created friction, unintended or otherwise.

"That Americus here yet?" Someone called from the boat at his back, and he turned, spying Kolb leaning on the blaster cannon strapped to the front of the patrol boat. The small, shallow hulled vessel was perfect for patrolling coastal waters at high speed, and was equipped for light anti-air work and anti-ship combat, provided they could get close enough to use their torpedos.

Not that anyone had brought a Navy to their home... yet. "Just about." He says, turning back to spy the approaching shuttle. Without a word, he began to walk, making for the landing pad. Like their armor, the shuttle was functional rather than comfortable, but that wasn't surprising given Mandalorian habits. Approaching the apron, he came to a halt just outside the reach of the backwash from the engines, hands clasped in the small of his back.

He knew his armor looked just like ever other set worn by every other Dravere, but considering he was alone and clearly a greeting party, he figured she'd know who was here to say 'hello.'

 

[Daisy Americus]

Blue-green eyes focused on the sight of the small star-port slowly coming into focus. The world that Clan Dravere inhabited was different from the goodly green Haseria that Daisy now called home. The Confederacy had been nice enough to grant them not only an entirely new territory, but, access to ships, weaponry, emergency funds, and droids. The golden-haired Americus had never seen so many droids in one place. Her inquisitive mind had lit up as if a lighthouse had suddenly gone off and she’d immediately set about to figuring out how they worked.

As it stood, the majority of her bedroom floor was currently covered with a dingy white sheet, with a variety of parts, pieces, chips, and wires strewn in neat little piles all over it. Her mother had nearly cuffed her upside the head, grown adult or not, when she realized that there were dark smudges of grease pressed into her usually tidy denim skinnies. If that hadn’t been enough the paisley dotted bandana holding her hair back from her face was a dead giveaway. She always pulled her hair back when she was tinkering.

The small shuttle that [member="Corvus Dravere"] had sent to pick her up was a far cry different than the Cannok-Type transport she had recently been given. It was part of her employment. Ever since they’d left Concord Dawn she had simply filled in time where she could. She helped her mother, Betty Americus, in her medical clinic as needed and took shifts at the Sierra Blanca. It was a rowdy saloon but nothing Daisy couldn’t handle. She had learned how to deal with intoxicated, would-be troublemakers, a long time ago. The CIS had created a new unit with respect to the refugees they had taken in. The Mandalorian Protectors. It was a throwback to their heritage. Something they could relate to and really, really sink their teeth into.

At first they’d all been hesitant, but eventually, Daisy had mustered up the courage and taken a leap of faith and enlisted. She wasn’t the only one.

Daisy wasn’t a hundred percent sure why the elder Mandalorian had insisted that she take him chosen vessel versus her own but the young woman didn’t really mind. It was a fight she didn’t really have a dog in and there was no harm in it anyway. If Corvus wanted her to use his shuttle? No problem.

She was dressed in the armor that she’d brought with her from Concord Dawn. It was white and purple with hints of pressed songsteel interwoven with beskar. It had been commissioned a long time ago, and bore the signs of war, with scratches here and there. That didn’t mean she neglected its care. It was simply a result of general wear and tear. When Daisy departed the shuttle she had her helmet tucked under her arm, as well, as a rucksack with some personal effects slung over her shoulder.

There was a stoic figure there to greet her and the Americus hoisted up her things without difficulty. While the woman seemed softer than most of her kin, there was a strength to her, and by no means would she be easily broken. Jo Americus had raised her to be every bit as durable as the boys and unlike her fancy, holo-star sister, she embraced it. She liked to be able to do for herself.

A polite smile flickered over her seemingly soft features and she nodded her golden head. Daisy was trying very hard not to seem distracted but there was so much to see. The waves were choppy and fierce and beyond there was a landmass with colors that were striking. It was temperate, for the most part, but the environmental stability in her suit hid her from truly experiencing it. In all honesty, Daisy didn’t know what to expect. Clan Dravere had a reputation. But, so did Clan Americus. They were the odd, justice-loving, family unit whereas Dravere were akin to the monsters that lived under the bed. In fact, if she remembered correctly, they were actually the things under the bed that the monsters were afraid of.

Daisy was not afraid. Stories were, by nature, full of tall-tales and colorful opinions. She approached the man who held a presence that she recognized from Castagne with her right arm extended, expecting, to clasp his forearm in greeting. “That was a heck of a trip. Ah’ve never seen thunderstorms like that before…”

He knew her. Rather, he seemed to know of her. She was at a loss. His voice was the only thing that seemed to stir any memory at all. It left her feeling out of touch, almost rude, and the country-belle was determined to rectify that feeling.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you again. Thank you for having me, ner'vod.”

​

 

[Corvus Dravere]

The winds of the cooling engines buffeted him, and he was surprised she went without a helmet for their introduction. A smile creased his lips beneath his helmet, and he stepped forward, clasping her forearm as she clasped his in the old warrior's shake. "Never?" He asks in that carefully modulated voice, "Well, I'd put your helm back on. You're going into it." He gestured to the boat behind them, which seemed to be made of some kind of wood, and the crew were already checking their weapons.

A deep, throaty rumble was heard as the motor was started up, and even over the sound of the winds howling in off the ocean it was easy to hear the purr of the engine at his back. "Come." He says simply, releasing her forearm and turning smartly on his heel. Behind them, the ground crews were getting the shuttle into cover within a large, concrete bunker, and the walk down the concrete pier was a short one before he walked up the short gangway and onto the deck of the boat.

Extending a hand to take her bag from her, provided she'd hand it over, he'd put it down below decks - or at least motion for her to put it down there if she'd rather do it herself. "Welcome to Aalay." He says, forgoing the usual pleasantries. "I don't think we'll have much to worry about until we're below the surface." He circled a finger in the air and the anchor could be heard starting to raise, the clatter-clank of a chain heard from somewhere now the rear of the small patrol vessel.

One of the men was manning what appeared to be a slug-fed anti-air cannon, and he turned in his bucket seat with the characteristic dead lenses of his clan. "Heard the scale-fins are acting up again." He says, almost conversationally. "We'll be ready."

Corvus shook his head, even as the motor gunned and the vessel began to pull out into the thrashing surf. "You can never be sure." He looked to Daisy, staring at her for a long time. "Someone find her a needler, would you?" Any weapons she brought with her would be functionally worthless below water, and so she'd need to have something on hand to counter-act that.

Sure enough, the storm rolled in closer, and the waves only grew more violent as they approached the storm. He motioned to her helmet and reached to a dial on his wrist, pulling up a number to show her. It was a comm frequency, and once she was adjusted it would be far easier to talk. Even shouting over the engine and the rumble of thunder was near impossible, and that meant making due with helmet communications. That didn't mean you weren't yelling, though.

It felt odd screaming into your own helmet but the closer they got, the louder the world became, until as they passed beneath the clouds, tossed about on a restless sea, it was an all-consuming roar of wind, lashing rain, and a motor that couldn't even begin to pierce the murderous cry of nature. "Thank you for coming." He yells into his communicator, "It's been too long since an Americus graced our decks."

[member="Daisy Americus"]

 

[Daisy Americus]

“Never.”, Daisy repeated firmly, slowly releasing his arm when it felt appropriate. Her accent had turned the word into something a little different, as if she were breathing the end, versus stating it. When she heard that they would be going back into the storms the statuesque Americus obediently lifted the purple and white helmet to put it back on. It was a movement that was made with simplicity, without any effort, signaling that she had done it a hundred times before. She knew her armor. It was one of the reasons that she had chosen it over the set the Mandalorian Protectors set she had been given. It was bright, shiny, and new—but she didn’t know it. This set had been with her for so long that it felt like a second skin.

Once situated the golden-haired woman found herself peering past him to view the boat and crew. Ah. Daisy understood now. Though her presence was of a diplomatic nature, to the Dravere, this did not mean the same as non-violent venture. Fair enough. She fell into step beside the taller man and kept his pace. Being on a vessel like this, one that floated on water, was new to her. She would watch, listen, and learn.

He offered to take her rucksack and she hesitated, briefly, before passing it along. It wasn’t that she had trust issues or anything of that nature. She was simply used to doing things for herself, but, she didn’t want to appear rude. “Ah feel privledged with the offer. Some of my siblings were a little jealous that they didn't get to make the trip.”, she spoke, her voice changed through her helmet, though nonetheless feminine when Corvus welcomed her. He mentioned going below the surface and the young woman did not respond despite the invisible shiver that ran down her spine. Was she afraid? Perhaps. Apprehensive, certainly. The space beneath the waves was dark, deep, and unfathomable.

“Scale-fins?”, she questioned plainly. At the very least, from the dialogue that followed, she could surprise that they weren’t friendly. She could feel eyes on her form but didn’t think anything of it. She was the new element on a ship that seemed to run like a well-oiled machine. The last thing she wanted to do was muck it up simply by general ignorance about Aalay, or, about how the Clan operated.

A crew member brought her a weapon, explained it briefly, and the young woman nodded her head. It was simple enough. As the waves grew more intense and the storm grew her stomach felt like it had bottomed out a little. The storm got louder and louder—to a point where she almost felt deaf from the white noise. They couldn’t really hear each other over the roar and she was grateful when Corvus showed her which frequency to switch to. She adjusted accordingly, doing her best to ignore the slight swell of nausea that kept rising. It made her frown. She could move through space without a problem but being on a boat made her seasick? That was plumb crazy.

Daisy grit her teeth and stood her ground when the ship lurched and seemed to be at the mercy of the ferocious squall. No, she had never, ever been in weather like this before. No storm on Haseria ever came on so fast and it never happened with such intensity. It took her a moment to realize that Corvus was speaking to her and her gaze tore itself away from the menacing sky. “Thank you again for havin’ me!”, she yelled back, proud at the very least, that her voice seemed steady. They wouldn’t know that behind her helmet she was growing rather pale and more than a little clammy. “Why so long?”

It didn’t seem like they were on unfriendly terms with Clan Dravere—but in their world that didn’t mean anything. Someone could have offended someone else and one thing led to another. Clans with longstanding friendships had been torn apart by less. The boat gave a particularly hard heave and she reached out to steady herself on a nearby railing. “Is it always like this?”

 

[Corvus Dravere]

He remembered her question, and filed it away as they bounced from one crest to the next, moments of weightlessness interspersed with the roll of the ocean beneath. "We don't like visitors." He says simply, for now filing away any mention of scale-fins for quieter times. "And visitors don't like us." This planet wasn't hospitable. Dxun had long been associated with the Mandalorians because of it's dense jungles and ravenous beasts. This planet was just as ravenous in an entirely different way.

"It's a mutual distaste, generally speaking."

Like her, he'd braced himself against a railing, and most of the crew had done the same. He knew they seemed insane to most, driving this wooden dingy into the maw of a storm, but this was their life. To not have a handhold of some kind would be quite literally deranged, and there was no shame in bracing yourself - though he moved with the practiced ease of someone accustomed to such rough journeys. He wasn't even aware she might be distinctly uncomfortable.

"Yes." He says simply. It was always like this. "Except for small points of calm."

There was one approaching up ahead, and just as quickly as they'd gone into the storm, so too did they clear it. It was an eye, a patch of clear blue sky overhead while a funnel of dangerously black cloud rotated above and around them. A shadow appeared in the waters below, the boat drifting to a stop. With the same slowness with which they'd appeared on the beach the first time he'd met her as an adult, a submersible broke the water around them.

It was massive, easily able to swallow up a freighter - it was nearly the size of a frigate. Their boat was positioned perfectly so that as the submersible rose, and the front bay opened, the boat could drift into the cavernous black of it's interior. With the sunlight outside and the low lighting within, it would take a few moments for their eyes to adjust.

"Welcome." He says, reaching up to remove his helmet with a hiss of released pressure. "This carrier will take us to Atlas Station." His hand had raised, and he gestured to a small docking bay that made up the nose of the ship. The water was already draining out, leaving the boats to sink and settle onto large blocks of wood that would keep them from hitting the deck. Gantries ran the length of the bay, and work teams scurried about. There weren't many droids, and those that moved about were large, blocky, and decidedly simple.

Most looked to be ancient, really, but it was clear it wasn't maintenance that kept them going. These were new droids, just of old designs that had stood the test of time.

 

[Daisy Americus]

Despite her building nausea the tall woman had to laugh, just a little, when her host explained the lack of contact. He claimed that they didn’t like visitors and vice versa but Daisy still really wasn’t clear on the reasoning. Mutual distaste was a term that politicians used to describe something they didn’t feel like talking about. Something unsavory and potentially off-putting. Regardless, Corvus must have at least been capable of tolerating her, otherwise, he wouldn’t have invited her in the first place. After Castagne, she couldn’t say anything bad in turn. She simply didn’t know him, or his people, outside of ghost stories and an ability to wrangle large amounts of sea creatures for supper.

Now, at least, she understood the latter part.

“Ah think you’ve got your wires crossed. Ah like you just fine.”, she tossed back as politely as she could muster, tightening her grip on the railing when it felt like her hold wasn’t as secure as it ought to be. What Daisy didn’t say, was that she would have liked Aalay a lot more, if her world wasn’t going all topsy-turvy every time the boat survived another punishing wave. In her mind’s eye the wooden seafaring vessel was made of little more than matchsticks. The water was too strong, too powerful, and felt like a battering ram.

Within her gauntlets, the skin over her knuckles was stretched so thinly that if it could have been seen, they would have appeared pure white. None of her healthy tan would show, and she didn’t bother relaxing, not even slightly. Daisy didn’t care if Corvus somehow figured out how anxious she was or if anyone thought less of her for it. She knew she was tough, however, this was not her world. This was new, unfamiliar, and dangerous. It would take time to acclimate.

Suddenly, the storm seemed to ease. Daisy was hesitant in releasing the railing, even as the winds quieted, and the path of the boat leveled off. A calm point? Just like he had mentioned? Her lips parted to question the still frightening sky but her thoughts were interrupted by a massive nautical ship rising from the deep. Her head tilted back to judge the size of it and her nausea lessened while her mind focused on other things. What was it? A submersible warship? Could there be weaponry beneath the waves?

Daisy resisted the urge to take a step back when she realized the matchstick-boat was being eaten by the much larger carrier and let it steal the day. It didn’t matter if it was more dangerous outside because of the storm. Her instincts told her that it was safe in the sun. Safe, where there was light, no matter how much her brain told her otherwise.

The surface-dwelling Americus did not feel secure here. Not yet.

She could hear her guide removing his helmet and swallowed hard. Daisy leaned slightly over the railing, watching the water drain, before settling back on her feet. Gloved fingers reached up as she settled, repeating his actions, causing hair the color of spun gold to tumble free. Once more, she tucked her headgear beneath her arm, and tried not to ignore the remnants of being seasick. Her generally tanned features were touched with a certain pallor, a cold sweat, but she refused to complain.

“What is Atlas Station?”, she murmured, sweetly inquisitive, though her eyes lingered on lines of his face. It was the first time she had seen it. Was it as expected? Not entirely. In some ways she had expected something different, but, he was every bit as battle-hardened as his voice suggested. Regardless, she paid close attention. He was the only person she knew on the entire planet. Her only friend, only lifeline, and a sense of isolation had never been more abundantly clear than when she realized they were trapped in a mobile metal tomb.

​

[member="Corvus Dravere"]

 

[Corvus Dravere]

A gloved hand rose, the black kevlar disappearing as it was dragged through shoulder-length brown hair just beginning to line with grey. His eyes were dead, but not soulless. There was a certain somber cast to them that said something painful was never far from his mind, and it was echoed in the suggestion of a furrow along his inner brow. As he turned, his neatly trimmed beard showed yet more signs of aging, patches of grey beginning to fill in the otherwise dark strands.

Shadows gathered along his face, adding depth to the creases of age like patterning in imperfect marble. He'd been blessed with the rare gift some men are allowed - not just to age well, but to benefit from a second renaissance of handsomeness. He was almost old enough to be her father. At times, he looked it, especially when the burden of leadership grew heavy. But for the most part, it was hard to imagine him being a day over his mid-thirties.

The crew, silent, began to disembark, leaving [member="Daisy Americus"] and him standing on the hull for a moment before he went below decks and gathered up her bag of belongings. That great, gaping maw through which they'd floated began to rise, and their world became the sterile gleam of interior lighting. He paused in front of her, helmet tucked under his left arm and her bag in his right, held out for her.

"You look pale." He says, in a voice that barely seemed to rise above a whisper. It didn't need to. The authority laced into his every utterance made sure he was heard. "We have some medicine that should quell the nausea."

After a moment, he paused, and the left corner of his mouth twitched. It could have been a smile or a frown, so vague was the ghost of that particular twitch. "Atlas is home."

 

[Daisy Americus]

Her eyes unintentionally shifted as her gaze followed the movements of her host, turning from seafoam green to a shade slightly darker. It almost could have been considered aqua by the time the light stopped shifting. Daisy was still having trouble matching the deep baritone of his voice with the carefully weathered plains of his face. He was older than she was, surely, but she wouldn’t actually refer to him as such. More than anything he seemed solid. Mandalorian strong—Clearly.

The people that left the wooden transport that had nearly flung them into a watery grave were just as talkative as Corvus. Clearly, they were cut from the same cloth. It made her voice feel louder than normal and extremely feminine when it echoed through the cavernous area. The dark-haired Dravere that had been keeping her company retrieved the rucksack that she’d arrived with and she hoisted it over her shoulder. “Thank you kindly.”, she murmured to Corvus, sweet as candy, while refusing to acknowledge that the extra weight made her head spin just a little more.

Feeling as if she might lose the lunch she hadn’t eaten was no excuse for poor manners.

Moving to leave the deck the statuesque blonde paused, her chin tucking down, when she was called out on her lack of sea legs. He didn’t really seem like he was asking, moreso, making a statement. It reminded her of her mother working in the clinic on Haseria, doling out vaccinations, with grown adults nearly losing their minds. It always made her laugh that people could face down several foot long swords but little needles made them more skittish than a Loth-Cat. Taking a deep, steadying breath, Daisy turned back toward Corvus and gave him a dazzling smile that could have charmed the socks off of a Sith Lord. “You’re sweet, darlin’, but ah’m fine. My head is just a little foggy. It’ll pass.”

At least, she hoped it would pass.

Her ears also felt strange. It was growing worse by the minute, as if there was some sort of pressure building up behind her eardrums. Curious, she tilted her head to the side, but it was still there. Figuring it had something to do with the storms or being submerged she let it go. It could be worse. Still smiling she straightened up and proceeded to ignore any discomfort. “Now. Come show me your ship. Then you can tell me about your home.”

Daisy liked the thought of learning about something he cared for. The inestimably small change in his expression when she’d asked told her something about Atlas but she wasn’t sure what yet.

​

[member="Corvus Dravere"]

 

[Corvus Dravere]

Corvus smiled back, but only slightly, and then he nodded, climbing down from the ship and making his way over to a ladder that would take them out of the drydock. Climbing up, he began walking towards the front of the expansive docking area, the bulkheads that functioned as doors left open for the time being. They'd be shut if they started going down, but for now, they were left open to make it easier for people to travel to and from their stations.

"I'm afraid most of the ship is what you'd expect." He begins, the corridors narrow, piping and wiring exposed everywhere. It wasn't messy, and everything was in place, but nothing was covered over. It was a distinctly industrial look, and spoke more to their desire to affect immediate repairs than have a smooth, finished appearance. "It's a ship, after all. Most of our underwater armament is torpedos, but we've managed to fashion a cannon that functions like a giant shotgun.

Underwater, needlers and flechette rifles are basically the name of the game, so we've made a larger version of that rifle to help deal with the hordes of scalefin." He shrugged, continuing to walk, taking periodic turns, and, at one point, climbing another ladder. "It's double hulled, to help increase survivability, but for now the scalefin don't mess with the large transports. They target the small stuff, like the surface boats, or our exploratory vessels. Sometimes they'll hit stations, too, which is where the trouble comes in. We've been being pushed back for a few generations now, the war ebbing and flowing to a tune we haven't yet figured out."

His shoulders shrugged, and he ducked below one last bulkhead and onto the bridge, where there was little more than a crew, monitors, and a whole lot of information being processed. "But Atlas isn't far, so we should get there unbothered."

 

[Daisy Americus]

Daisy wasn’t sure how to admit to Corvus that he wasn’t what she was expected. More than likely, she didn’t need to, but she felt a little guilty. Most Mandalorians that she knew seemed to think that Clan Dravere was something mighty spooky. So far she had seen them to be insular, guarded, but they definitely weren’t a Mythosaur hiding under the bed. They were people. Living. Trying to survive—just the same as anyone else. The expression of her host flickered slightly and it took her a moment to realize it was a smile. By the time she did he was already walking away and, smiling herself, she obediently followed his lead.

Trying to shake away the remnants of vertigo she followed to the ladder that would lead them out. She hefted her pack, securing it as well as her helmet, before she began to mirror his actions. Silently she tried to memorize the route. Seafoam blue-green eyes lingered on various crew members going here and there, moving with purpose, though she couldn’t fathom what their jobs were. They moved like a well-oiled machine. “There’s more people here than ah thought there would be…”

Corvus mentioned that this ship was what she’d expect and Daisy had to laugh a little. He spoke as if she frequented ships exactly like this one. “Is it? Ah don’t think ah have too much to compare it to.”, the golden-haired beauty trailed off lightly, taking in the tight quarters, and exposed electronics. This wasn’t what the inside of her starship looked like in the slightest but it felt functional. The little engineer in her could appreciate the ease of access. “Ah can make educated guesses though.”

He went on to discuss weaponry and her ears perked up a little. She did have an interest in knowing how things worked, especially, in knowing how armaments would function underwater. There was a whole new set of rules to be concerned with that didn’t apply on land. Once again, her guide mentioned the scalefin, and the Americus woman remained quiet. She was slowly piecing together that they were the enemy in these parts. Dangerous, annoying, but thus far survivable.

“What started the war?”

Daisy wasn’t sure if he would have the answer. Sometimes, no one was sure who threw the first punch, especially if this had been going on for generations. Regardless, she was curious.

He assured her that their trip to Atlas should be rather uneventful and she nodded her head. The sad truth was that she was more bothered by being so far underwater versus worrying about the mermen that couldn’t harpoon her to death through the double-hulled ship. “What is Atlas like?”, she asked, her honeyed voice sweet, like candy floss. A light blush stole across her cheeks, adding a shock of color, to the pallor she’d been left with after being seasick.

She’d just realized that her habit of peppering him with curiosities might be annoying. Daisy was the inquisitive type. Curious as a kitten. She just couldn’t help herself.

“Ah’m sorry for all the questions Corvus. Ah don’t mean to be a bother.”, dulcet tones continued, properly apologetic. “Ah just don’t know too much about Aalay or how you do things here. There wasn’t a lot of detail on the Holonet. Just basics. It wasn’t all that helpful and ah hate feelin' like ah'm behind the rest of the class.”

[member="Corvus Dravere"]

 

[Corvus Dravere]

Standing on the bridge, she'd likely have figured they were somewhere near the middle of the vessel. There were no windows, or other amenities that might make things more 'comfortable.' The submersible was sealed, as well it should be, and the picture from outside seemed to be fed in via a system of cameras set up outside the hull. There wasn't a whole lot to see, given the darkness of the waters, but a glow was becoming visible on the forward mount.

"Atlas is home." He replies gruffly. Much like an Imperial Star Destroyer, much of the bridge was dominated by a walkway, with crew pits to either side. He dropped down into one with a rattle of armor and leaned over a man using a communicator. Setting a palm on the communication's officers shoulder, Corvus peered down at the display crawling with wavelengths and flashing lights. "Can you reach Atlas yet?"

The communications officer shook his head, adjusting dials and clearly adjusting frequencies. "I should be able too, but... nothing."

Corvus frowned, then turned to the sensor officer. "If either of you two pick up anything - communications or scalefin. You know what to do." They nodded, and he turned back to Daisy, craning his head upward so that she, for once, was taller than him.

"We don't advertise anything about ourselves, and we talk about it less. Better to show than tell." His lips tightened into a smile that was more grimace than anything else. "Better to form your own opinions than get told them."

 

[Daisy Americus]

Corvus repeated himself, stating that Atlas was home, and Daisy shook her head softly. She knew that. She wanted to know what to expect. Was it like living in a tin can? Were there transparisteel windows that they would be able to see out of? It didn’t seem likely, but, she was curious nonetheless. If it was anything like the current vessel they were in she was willing to bet that she would be looking at a lot of plain durasteel walls for a long time. Everything was made to be functional. Not aesthetic.

She remained on the bridge while Corvus dropped down to speak to one of the crew members. She turned around slowly, listening, while she kept her rucksack hoisted over her shoulder. Daisy hadn’t really been on a ship as large as a Star Destroyer and had certainly never been on the bridge. Even in the Protectors they used smaller gunships. Was she really allowed to be here?

The golden-haired woman just told herself that if she didn’t touch anything, she couldn’t possibly break it, so everything would be fine. Daisy had a tendency to disassemble technology like a child pulling apart building blocks. It helped her understand how it worked. From there she was capable of rebuilding, generally, with significant improvements. But that wouldn’t be good for a ship that needed to be in working order.

There seemed to be trouble with their comms. She wasn’t trying to eavesdrop but the space was so close she really couldn’t help it. It also wasn’t as if they were being terribly quiet.

Corvus looked up at her and told her in the most polite fashion she had ever heard to ‘shut the kark up’. He’d smiled, sort of, when he said it but it didn’t stop her from feeling as if she’d just been properly dressed down. Daisy straightened up a little and tried not to let a blush roll across her cheeks, but, she would do better In the future. The only problem was—there wasn’t much to see. The view-screens were all full of dark water and gloom.

How could she make an assumption about any of this? She existed in the light of stars, in space, not buried in an ocean full of water. There was a reason she stayed far from Kamino, aside from the creepy clones, but it definitely had something to do with the lack of terra firma.

“About how far away are we?”

They didn’t seem overly worried about the lack of comms but Daisy’s mind always worked overtime. Why wouldn’t they be working? Broken? Poor signal? Or was something wrong?

[member="Corvus Dravere"]

 

[Corvus Dravere]

Climbing back out of the crew pits, he seemed oblivious to how she'd taken his words. Instead, he moved to a screen, eyeing the inky blackness before them. His head didn't lift as he responded to her question. "Mm..." he rumbles, "Hard to say. Few hundred kilometers? Maybe an hour or two." They would make good time, as they could descend at an angle for the majority of the way. Around them, the crew did their jobs with dutiful efficiency and quiet.

Every few minutes, there would be another, audible attempt to raise Atlas.

"We can stay up here the whole time," he begins, turning his attention to her again, helmet still under his arm, "...or we can get see about finding you some equipment more suited to the depths." It would be a little difficult to find something that fit properly, but it was better than trying to send her out into the depths in her own, personal equipment.

[member="Daisy Americus"]

 

[Daisy Americus]

Daisy felt like a shadow. She moved when Corvus moved, not only because he was her guide, but because she was entirely out of her depth. The interior of the crew area was similar to that of a large starship but not. All of the instruments measured different things. The monitors that rotated showed endless deep blue as far as the eye could see, with rare, interesting, pieces of underwater plant life and the occasional creature. It was lovely, far prettier than she’d expected, once she stopped to look.

At least her nausea seemed to be subsiding. Corvus relayed their ETA and Daisy nodded her head in acceptance. A few tendrils of golden hair fell in her eyes but she blew it away. “That’s not bad at all. Ah expected it to take a lot longer than that.”

Her eyes flickered back to the crew in the pit that seemed to having difficulty reaching Atlas. The Dravere Mandalorian that accompanied her seemed to unintentionally keep his cards close to the chest. She couldn’t have guessed what he was thinking if she tried. “Is that normal? Not being able to reach the station?”, she asked, her eyebrows furrowing for a moment. Daisy wasn’t concerned with her own welfare, at least not yet, but comms being down were usually the first sign that something was amiss.

He then offered to take her hunting for more appropriate gear and she glanced down at her purple and white armor. Daisy loved her beskar. It was her first set of armor, treasured, and well-loved with dings and scratches all over the place. “Weapons and armor?”, Daisy questioned, curious, considering his helmet looked so very different than her own. She had already assumed that a slugthrower pistol wouldn’t really work the same way underwater but she wasn't sure about her armor. It was sealed, like many others, but that still didn't mean it was suitable for this environment.

“Lead the way.”

[member="Corvus Dravere"]​

 

[Corvus Dravere]

"Yes and no." He responds enigmatically, holding every close to the vest it seemed. "Weapons and armor. If the scalefins breach, water is going to come flooding in here. It won't sink us, but between the cold, the pressure, and the lack of oxygen, you're going to need something more specialized." Motioning with a hand for her to follow as they left the bridge, they went back out into the short, pipe-lined corridors of the vessel; corridors that wouldn't have looked amiss in a bunker, or the basement of an industrial factory.

This trip was much shorter - the armory was kept in the center of the vessel, just like the bridge. A brief elevator ride deposited them two floors down, and he walked calmly towards what could only be termed a blast door. It was thick enough that breaching it with explosives would likely just sink the entire vessel. That was likely the point.

Stopping in front of the door, he paused, a camera nearby scanning his face. He then provided a retina scan and a password into a console, and the door swung inward. It wasn't wide, simply thick, and the extent of arming a crew this large was obvious the moment the armory came into view. Racks of weapons and armor, fins, oxygen tanks and spare armor were carefully coordinated throughout. He went to the nearest rack of armor, sized it up, then shook his head. "No." Turning to the weapon rack close at hand, he ran his finger down the spine of a rifle like a favored pet, voice continuing as he spoke to her.

"Take a look around for the armor. You know your measurements better than I do."

They were alone in here for now, but their mass produced armor was impossible to miss. Their blasters, though, were spartan in design; same with everything else they did. "I'll get you some weapons while you get dressed."