Dead In Space

[Marcus Itera]

Dead In Space​

Somewhere in the outskirts of Republic territory​

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"Dammit! I swear we just had those hyperdrive couplings checked before we even headed out - not to mention I frelling replaced those things three weeks ago!" A torrent of curses, agitated sighs, and otherwise unpleasant speech expelled from the man at the cockpit of the Harlequin. "Miranda," he groaned before leaning forward to plant his forehead atop the control panel, "Ping the sector and see if anyone else is out here. I really, really don't want to activate my distress beacon."

The holographic command module of the cockpit flashed to life the moment he uttered her name. An image of a girl materialized on the screen. She had cool, pale skin and hair even more starkly white than her complexion. The only semblance of color in her being was focused in her eyes, a gentle sky blue. "I suppose I can but they'll be able to sense us as well, the distress beacon might be the right call especially since we're running under Correctional Authority identifiers."

Marcus lifted his head to peer up at her. "Ping first and if nobody is there, we'll activate the beacon."

"As you wish, m'lord."

He glared at her. "Please."

Miranda flashed a cheeky grin and giggled. "That's right, use your manners. One day I might not be around to make you say things politely and you'll get into a lot of trouble."

"What do the scans look like?" he ignored her comment about manners. "How big is it?"

The AI took a few moments of careful speculation, inspecting the data through various methods almost instantaneously. "There was only one."

"Yeah?"

She looked back at him. "Space station. Looks like an orbital space dock."

The Sector Ranger pursed his lips before smiling. He released a sigh of relief and lifted his arms from the control panel before sliding back into his chair. "See? Someone had to be out there. Let's hail the station and see if they can help a poor guy out."

"Actually," Miranda started, "I tried doing that as soon as I found it. Nobody responded, and, oddly enough, none of their life support or navigation systems are online."

The man furrowed his brow. "What? That's crazy. Without life support, they'd all be d-" He cut himself short and immediately started to fiddle with the controls and steering yolk. "Divert all power to the sublight engines and the tractor beam. We need to find out what's up."

 

[Oddball]

[member="Marcus Foster"]

Piloting a small Rebellion shuttle Oddball was on his day off so to speak, and while normally he wasn't the type to go out, ever since they had lost the planets in the outer rim he didn't like staying in one place for too long. So here he was floating around on the fringes of republic space, just hoping to find something to do. So as he kept cruising he sat back in his chair and put his hands behind his head, batting his eyes slowly as he began to drift to sleep. Setting up the Autopilot Oddball simply relaxed and let sleep take him.

"Docking, Docking, Docking." His ship's system said in a robotic voice.

Fighting through the haze of sleep he coughed a few times and began to rub his eyes and get his wits about him. Slurring a few nonsensical words he sat up and looked up at a very large space station that looked to be falling apart at the seams. Taking a moment to gather that in he looked to his ship's nav computer and scratched his head as to why he was docked here, but to be honest that didn't matter. He was quite happy to be here.

"Score!" The commando said as he pumped his elbow down.

"Ship, why are we here?" He asked the ship's droid brain.

"Potential SOS, primary function is to assist. Will you be assisting?" The ship said in a robotic voice

"Probably not, spooky decrepit space station. Nine out of ten times there's a bunch of dead bodies and free shit! I mean one out of ten it's an actual emergency but I'm willing to roll those dice." Oddball said as the shuttle fully docked with the station.

Grabbing his vanguard battle armor the clone slipped it on along with a repulser pack and a empty rucksack as well to score some loot. Looking down he debated grabbing his rifle and decided to go with a compact submachine gun instead to holster by his side, no need bringing the assault rifle to this party. So as he walked out of his ship and into the air lock of the space station, oddball was off to start a journey that would probably kill a fair amount of time.

 

[Kye Melec]

Unlike her cousin, Kye wasn’t any sort of extravagantly skilled pilot, but she managed to get by with what training the Republic military had granted her. Her capabilities extended far enough to be able to pilot most ships without crashing, but she had never been explicitly debriefed in naval combat. That was the job of the Navy itself, while she and the soldiers were on the ground. Which of course begged the question as to just what she was currently doing piloting a small corvette on the fringes of Republic space, but it was a question that she didn’t have an exact answer to. At the moment she was entirely focused on finding a locale in which to land, more than a touch suspicious of the seemingly abandoned space station that loomed in front of her like the skeleton of some great dead beast.

Despite it being the best option at the moment, she wasn’t entirely too keen in landing and discovering for herself what dangers may await within. There was no doubt in her mind that she would be able to defend herself from most any hostilities thanks to her military background, but that didn’t mean she necessarily wanted to. After a time or two spent on the battlefield every soldier learned to pick their battles, and even though she had her weapons of choice with her she wasn’t keen on utilizing them. To avoid a fight was a much wiser decision, but there was no way of telling whether or not she would happen upon anything more than this one derelict station, and besides, she was more than a little curious as to exactly what had happened. Her desire to perhaps provide assistance in one manner came to light as well.

No life support or navigation. Something's up. That something settled in the pit of her stomach, a worry that refused to go away.This wasn't just another ordinary abandoned piece of machinery. Even then a few systems would have been online, even if they were of the very minor sort to keep things functional. But this one was entirely empty and devoid of life, whether organic or mechanical in nature. It begged the question as to just what had happened, and why no one else within the Republic had noticed or been notified of such a phenomenon until now. She briefly considered calling back and at the very least making the others aware of what was transpiring, but decided against it for the time being. It was better to look herself first before declaring this an emergency. Force knew there were enough anomalies in the galaxy that she was unaware of.

Turning around in the pilot's chair she stood, moving to the back of the ship in order to don her armor, the HUD that would have normally lit up within the helmet was on remaining dark, instead confirming her of its activation by an affirmative chirp in her ears. The readings communicated themselves either through the spoken word or a series of varying long and short beeps that she could easily understand and translate into logical information in seconds. It wasn't quite as effective as seeing the data scroll across a screen before her eyes, but when she didn't really have any eyes to perceive it with that system was entirely useless by itself. When it came to shooting things were a bit more difficult to explain, but none could doubt her skill what with her being a sniper, as that position alone denoted her talent with a firearm.

Finally the ship docked, and she took a moment to holster her pistol and sling the blaster rifle she had chosen across her back, foregoing the bulkier sniper rifle that was typically her weapon of choice. That would serve no purpose here, with any combat likely taking place in close quarters rather than at any distance she was adjusted to. It would be different, but she was used to adapting. It seemed that this was to be the most recent test of that. Taking a breath she exited the corvette, stepping out into the space station proper.

[member="Oddball"], [member="Marcus Foster"]

 

[Jsc]

Fridge of Pub Space

Karen's X-Wing Recon Custom was sitting quietly near the prime star of the local system. The Hyperspace Beacon for this micro-sec had drifted her off course and she was collecting data for a quick redirection back towards Denon Sector. However, the influx of ships in the system was making her curious. Blue gave a nod to her Astromech droid and they set the super-cruise for the arctic world just beyond the gravity well. When they arrived in melee distance, just beyond visual range, Roberts was surprised to discover an abandoned space station pop up on her scope. Very few things escape the sharp eyes of an XwR, after all.

"Ah. Well well. So this is what everybodies so interested in. Mm. Fascinating."

However, her computer was picking up high levels of flux radiation in the area. It was acting like a sensor shroud and appeared to be emanating from the nearby arctic sphere.

"Ah. Interference on the scope. No wonder that nobody saw this place earlier. Somebody appears to have parked the station in a natural shroud. Clever. Must have drifted free recently. ...Odd."

She ran melee scans of the nearby vessels from her XwR. Mmm. Probably more Pubs. Didn't have pirate specs and they seemed content to approach one another. Must be a salvage crew. They didn't raise weapons either. That was a good sign. Still? You never know?

Roberts touched her com and hailed [member="Marcus Foster"] 's boat on an open channel. [member="Kye Melec"] & [member="Oddball"] would undoubtedly overhear their conversation,

~/ "Boat Harlequin, this is Escort Seven of the Galactic Republic, Denon Sector. Saw you boys got yourself a bright new piece of salvage there. Very nice. What's the good word? Anybody still alive down there? Kinda crowded out here today. Please advise. Over." ~

 

[Marcus Itera]

Everyone came out the woodwork the moment the Harlequin began to putter forward. Its weapon systems were standing by and powered up, just in case something really was wrong. Oftentimes, pirates liked to target the engines and life support systems of vessels in order to immobilize them and drain whatever sustenance they had left before actually boarding with spacesuits. Marcus had done clean up work on several yachts and freighters and it was terrible - the station was much larger than those, and the gore inside would be larger and messier.

He really hoped that wasn't the case.

"Got several more sensor readings. A few smaller craft, fighters and the like."

Miranda spoke just moments before [member="Karen Roberts"]' voice came over a public frequency, hailing him and identifying herself as Republic personnel. "Copy that, Escort Seven. This is Special Enforcement Agent Marcus Foster with the Sector Rangers. I'm movin' in to check this big 'ol bird out. If you desire to provide any assistance, it would be much appreciated."

He glanced at Miranda, who nodded her head in confirmation. This lady was most definitely Republic personnel.

As for the other two signals that had been noticed and registered in his navigation system, he had no idea who they were. Could be salvagers, could be civilians, or they could be pirates or hostile military personnel. The latter case was something he doubted but they were on the border.

Miranda took control of the Harlequin's controls as he slipped into his Vanguard BDUs, toggling the oxygen reserves the moment the patrol ship docked with the derelict star dock.

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Everything was dead on the inside of the space dock. Deathly empty, frighteningly cold, and absolutely devoid of any signs of life or existence. Support pillars in the core had been blasted apart, leaving gaping holes and pockmarks across the hull and transparisteel viewports had been knocked out as if by force. Blaring red alarms still rang, albeit completely silent due to the void of space, but their crimson lights still flashed warnings to any trespassers.

This vessel was a new home - a new home to something hungry. Very hungry.

[member="Oddball"], [member="Kye Melec"]

 

[Kye Melec]

Even without the Force it would have been plain that something was wrong - very, very wrong. This section of the station was entirely silent, devoid of even the quiet background noise that often accompanied something of this size. Anyone with common sense would know this was bad. A member of the military trained to respond to situations like this thought a bit differently. While the part of her brain devoted to common sense told her to leave before anything could become extraordinarily terrible, the side that was devoted to the Republic and its cause prodded her onwards so that she might investigate further and determine just what had happened. This was unnatural, and she wanted to know why, and more importantly how she could help.

The moment she entered the station she had toggled the respirator within her armor that would allow her to breathe under these conditions just as well as on the surface of Onderon or within the ship she had arrived in. Habitually she scanned the area both with her version of sight and the barrel of her rifle. It wasn't plausible - or physically possible, for that matter - that something was still alive with the damage that had been done, but she had learned early on not to underestimate anything about her conditions or the beings that inhabited it. However improbable it was that something was alive here, she wouldn't doubt it. There were enough unknowns in the galaxy as it was. One more meant nothing, at this point.

As if an afterthought she opened a line on her comms that would read to any individuals nearby. "This is Kye Melec of the Galactic Republic military. Requesting assistance from any nearby Republic personnel to investigate a probable S.O.S." With that she cut the connection, keeping communications open so that any responses received would register and come through. That had been a severe underestimation of her circumstances, but any who arrived would soon discover that for themselves upon docking. Whatever or whoever had once been alive in this place was extinguished now, that much was certain. The only question that remained was what had come afterwards.

The sound of other ships docking registered to her senses, the only sound save for her own breathing and the functions of the armor she wore. It was dead here, alright, and not just in the metaphorical sense. Forcing any dark thoughts from her mind she continued forward, keeping her weapon raised and hopes up that those new arrivals were members of the Republic as well, and therefore friendlies. No new variables were necessary, especially those hostiles. Her finger remained close to the trigger, though the safety of the rifle was on until it was indicated that the situation required otherwise. As a trained sniper, she rarely ever missed a shot. Something told her that was about to change, and soon.

[member="Marcus Foster"], [member="Karen Roberts"], [member="Oddball"]