Oblivion gave way to a flowing reality of steely plates and unknown faces. Head throbbing sickeningly, Onith found herself fighting to keep the world from spinning so violently. As her senses returned, the sound of moaning and distressed cries filled the dry air. The memory of where she was or why escaped her, but the simply clad traveller felt an urge to get away from the chaos. Onith wrestled with the metal restraints that held her fast and secure against the wall of this capsule. Not understanding the mechanism that held her fast, she simply strained at it, pushing with all the might she could muster in her state of confusion.
The minute seemed to drag on indeterminately as Onith felt hope dwindle within even as her sight began to clear. The faces around her were people similarly trapped against the wall, some sat comatose and limp while others were struggling to free themselves. A few cried out, but it appeared each person was focused so much on obtaining their own freedom that there was little concern granted to those about them. Onith was just one in about a dozen or so individuals, that she could see, pinned in place.
A brief thought came to her, even as her arms finally gave and flopped uselessly to her side. What had BR called this again? A life pod? It seemed such an alien concept, given their current circumstance, barred from life inside this metal tomb. Onith might have laughed at the idea, had she not been currently trapped within it. There was a loud crack that shattered through the sounds of injury and slow death. A voice somewhere beyond Onith's craning neck could see exclaimed in glee. Words poured from his mouth, their sounds at once unknown and grating to the pureblood. There was another pop and the clang of boots on metal floor grating resounded. The moans and cries gave way to excited gibbering and a cacophony of hope filled the tight interior of the pod.
Though the speakers made no sense, the lost warrior reasoned that they were working their way down the pod, releasing those still trapped. Eventually, a woman grinning wildly, despite a face covered in oil and grit, swam into Onith's blurry view. Arms barely covered in silken tatters jumped at the controls and within moments had hit some release that Onith had been unaware of. Meanwhile, she could hear other people letting themselves out, perhaps as the craze of fear and doomed mortality passed. It seemed a moment of hush came over the group, as families reformed and friends embraced after such an ordeal. A couple of loners, intently moving to the door, slid passed the others and began playing at the controls to the rear door.
Onith took a moment to look for her translator, BR-4, yet she could not see his worn and rusted form anywhere in the pod. Instead, a figure from the group of loners motioned to her and spoke frantically as he started yanking at a latch. The letters on the door were familiar, distantly similar to the alphabet she knew and comprehended, but still was nought but gibberish to her. In moments, a few of the group were calling out for something, perhaps assistance based on how others began to part from their own collectives and worked at the hatch. Buttons were pushed, levers pulled, commands relayed and yet the thin barricade to their freedom remained stoic and unmoving. Finally, somebody apparently had the idea to simply attack the problem more directly, as a burly man took hold of a loose durasteel rod and tried to bash the door. Distraught cries rose as the din reverberated around the pod and people clapped hands to their sensitive ears. After five strikes, the door gave as the blunt strikes found something and a series of small explosions catapulted the hatch outwards into the wilds beyond.
The air suddenly grew humid and warm as dust and particles were sucked out into the environment. At that moment Onith just barely stepped aside as the people rushed forward madly, suddenly overcoming their prior pain with ease. Not until they breathed the fresh air did the people finally calm into a wondered silence. The air and the sight of the crashed and battered pod behind reminded Onith of why she was here. BR and she were travelling to Onderon, hoping to find ancient artefacts.
The freed traveller turned to the group, some of the ship's crew working with a few others to set up some sort of equipment and pulling out a battered crate of supplies from their damaged prison. Onith knew they would not, or could not, understand her, but she had to find BR. Stepping up to a man in the livery of the Litany of Stars mechanic, she spoke slowly and tried to enunciate as best she could, ~Where is the rest of the ship? I need to find my droid.~
A wearied expression came over the man and he responded with a wave of his hand saying something offhandedly that Onith did not comprehend. However, any further attempt at communication was abruptly ended as new sounds replaced the background noises of the jungle. Rumbling of heavy footfalls, and high-pitched shrieks of terror filled the air. Some of the people produced small blasters, and a crewman rummaged through the crate of supplies for something as the first lumbering Boma beast emerged from the bushes and added its own inhuman yowl to the chorus of fear.
