Reborn from the wreckage

[Wyla Endeel]

A crash site – Tatooine

Black eyes snapped open, unseeing at first, but blurry vision coming into focus. Ears were ablaze with sound; alarms sounding, and wires popping. A hint of instinct told her to be frightened, this had all happened before. Yet this time it was new, the first glimmer of consciousness after a long sleep. Delicate hands outstretched, reaching upwards, fingertips feeling with magnetic implants. Her hands pressed flat against cold metal, she was enclosed somehow. Slowly she began to push, a thin slash of light became visible, it was possible to free herself. One more push threw the lid of her pod aside, she sat up and surveyed. This was an unfamiliar place, full of metal, wires, and an engine – a ship.

Wyla swung her legs over the side of the pod and let them dangle for a moment before her bare feet touched against the cold floor. Careful steps upon tip-toe brought her forward; she could feel sparks all around her. She must have been in a tiny cargo bay, now she continued on her way. As she entered the main cabin the smell of smoke invaded her senses. A console full of alarms and shining buttons was like a beacon to her, drawing her into their light. Though, there was a most troubling figure sitting slumped in the pilot’s chair, upon closer inspection there was blood dripping down his face. She didn’t know him, but the sight set something off deep within her, images of wreckage flashing before her and she screamed. For a brief moment her body felt burned, felt damaged… but her hands slid over the smooth surface of her torso, she was fine.

Hurried, urgent steps brought her to the hatch, she opened it and fled out into the fresh air. Turning she saw that the ship had crashed, but this time she was intact, undamaged. She stood silent and still as a statue, eyes on the line of the horizon and feet feeling the hot sand beneath them. “Where is Wyla?” She asked, head tilting to the side. “Where…am...I?” her voice trailed away, carried into the wind.

 

[Holden Tark]

Salvaging had become Holden's life. The ex-CorSec agent had nothing better to do since Corellia had broken. Force relics were hard to come by, so for the time being, Holden was gathering scrap metals, and raiding crashes for profit. The salvager had been staying at Anchorhead when word of a major crash reached the populace. A sand storm was also said to be moving its way through, and would each the crash site in a few hours. There was a small window of time to work, and Holden was on it.

His speeder wasn't anything to write home about, but it served its function. The windshield was strong and would hold during the sandstorm. The back hatch would hold whatever valuables he could manage to find. Dry heat was all he could feel on the outside, but fortunately he had climate control in the speeder.

The wreckage was massive. Whatever the ship, the tech and origin was not discernible. Holden was going to have to get into the ship and see if any of the parts would give it away. Was it a good make, a good year? Only one way to find out. Blue eyes scanned for the entrance, when they fell on something peculiar, a survivor it seemed, also with no apparent injury. This was interesting indeed. With a sandstorm coming he'd have to work fast, or get them back in the ship. The engines of the speeder came to a stop, as the vehicle rested in place. Holden opened the top hatch and climbed out of the driver's seat.

"You look a little lost there? Need a ride? Sandstorm is coming soon!"

[member="Wyla Endeel"]

 

[Wyla Endeel]

Fingertips twitched, something was on its way. Eyes scanned the distance, a small dot on the horizon, coming towards her. With mild interest she continued to watch, the dot now becoming a discernible shape. Wyla’s gaze continued to follow the speeder, eyes continually adjusting focus as it came nearer. Soon the speeder pulled alongside her and a man climbed out in front of her. The cyborg woman’s posture straightened and she inclined her head as he spoke to her. A ride, a sandstorm, lost – words that she honed in on. However, her understanding was limited at this time; she had been inactive for quite some time.

“Yes.” She started, in a flat neutral tone. “She is lost.” Wyla nodded twice, referring to herself of course, but the words did not form as they should have. Her dark eyes surveyed the area once more, she could feel the wind and sand against her synthskin. Wyla could feel the soft cotton fabric of her long white dress fluttering about her ankles. Perhaps this was the sandstorm that the man spoke of, but she knew very little of how this would affect her. However, her first instinct was to take shelter. Without another word to the stranger, she turned on a heel and moved back inside the ship. Curiosity tugged at her and she paused in the doorway, wondering what the man’s next move might be.

[member="Holden Tark"]

 

[Holden Tark]

Speaking in third person, this was certainly interesting. Something was odd here, and Holden wanted to know. For now though he needed to take cover as the sand storm approached faster than the report had said. Running into the ship, the smell of burnt wires, and death, greeted him. The smell was familiar to what he smelled in his CorSec days, and the few bodies he ran into didn't bother him at all. He used to seeing those as well. The woman had his interest though. She was the real mystery, how she survived and the others didn't.

The crackling a fizzling of live wires could still be heard, and the smell of fuel leaks overwhelmed his nose the deeper he went into the ship. They had to get the power off, or find the leak. He had to work fast. There were work lamps in his speeder, battery operated. He ran out to get them and set them up quickly.

"We need to get the power shut off. Do you know where the main controls are?"

[member="Wyla Endeel"]

 

[Wyla Endeel]

Wyla watched the man silently; her eyes fell upon the work lamps that he had set up. The electricity from the lamps and the broken wires all around them made her fingers tingle. She could hear his words clearly, even above all of the ambient sound of the broken vessel. Her mind worked for a moment to understand what he was asking of her. Yes, main controls, she knew where they were, she had seen them. The controls were in the same room where she had found the dead pilot, on the bridge of the ship. Though, she had fled that area in a blind terror, she wasn’t sure the way, but she knew how she could find it.

“She will show you.” Her right hand stretched out in front of her. She could feel many different magnetic fields around her, but she knew that she was looking for a large source of power. A slight tugging of her ring finger and thumb alerted her, this was the steady source they needed to find. “Now follow.” Came her directive, as she began to walk briskly, with steps that were preternaturally light. Her bare feet padded gently along the cold floor, deftly avoiding any live wires that lay strewn about. Tip-toeing up the stairs to the catwalk, she continued to lead the way. The tugging grew stronger as they neared the bridge, and soon she spotted the shiny console that had called to her earlier.

Wyla stood in the doorway, turning back to her new companion. Her eyes were on him to see if this was indeed the place he had been looking for.

[member="Holden Tark"]

 

[Holden Tark]

Holden watched. This girl was either possessed by some force ghost, not that Holden would really know anything about that, or there was a lot more to her than met the eye. She seemed to be drawn to the console, and the salvager was beginning to think she was the most valuable item on the ship. Either there were cybernetic fittings and implants, or she was fully machine. Holden wasn't sure yet, but it would best explain the third person. Still, she looked very human, as if he could reach out and touch her and feel the warm flesh of a woman. Whatever work had been done, was skilled work indeed.

"This is it, good work."

The salvager quickly shut the main power down, and pulled a light out to see his way back to the chamber they had been in. The ship itself didn't seem to have much to salvage, other than scrap metal. The crash was pretty bad. Now he just needed to figure out how it happened.

"I'm Holden. Do you have a name? Maybe you can tell me how all this happened too?"

[member="Wyla Endeel"]

 

[Wyla Endeel]

“Holden.” She echoed him, trying to commit this name to memory and associating it with his face. Wyla looked thoughtful for a moment, as she considered his questions. What was her name? Yes, she knew the answer to that query. However, she did not know the answer to the one that followed. She did not have any knowledge or memory of how she came to be on the ship in the first place. The only thing she remembered was awakening in her transport pod. Slowly she shook her head, her long black hair swayed back and forth with her movement.

“Wyla.” The cyborg finally answered, as she raised a delicate index finger and touched the tip of her nose briefly. “She…” Wyla started, but closed her eyes, concentrating hard. “…I do not know what happened. I was sleeping.” She had been placed in stasis for travel, but to her this meant sleep, even if she didn’t dream. “The rest are all… damaged.” She remarked, though it was an easy observation.Though, the question now was… where would she go? This wreckage was not a suitable place to stay, and she had little idea what to do next.

“Why has…Holden come to this place?” She asked, black eyes locked with his, her expression was quite blank, but border lined on curious as a brow arched slightly.

[member="Holden Tark"]

 

[Holden Tark]

"Wyla," Holden smiled, "That's a unique name. I like it."

The language she used indicated his assessment well, she was a cyborg, a droid, something macine. A quick survey of the wreak age did indicate the others were damaged as she indicated. There was nothing that could be done, but they did have to weather the sandstorm coming. It was coming fast. Until it passed, Holden could see about helping Wyla's cognitive functions perhaps. The third person to first person thing spoke to something not processing right.

"I'm a salvager, so I'm here because of the crash. I've been raising funds for a major dig in an ancient force user tomb to find a very specific artifact. I was hoping to find something of value to sell. Unfortunately the only thing worth a decent amount of credits is too valuable for me to even try."

Whether she understood he was referring to her or not was something he didn't know. Regardless if was the truth. A quick survey proved nothing of value on board. Maybe if there were certain systems that survived the crash he could make use of, but so there was nothing. Holden seemed content to solve the mystery in front of him for now. If there was something there, maybe he'd invite her to join him on a permanent basis. It just depended on what her programming was.

"I think a better question is what are you doing here? Also I'm curious if you're just a really well constructed droid, or if there is still some human qualities. Some of your mannerisms, they can't be programmed to the efficiency you perform them."

[member="Wyla Endeel"]

 

[Wyla Endeel]

“Holden the salvager, come to take items from the dead.” Wyla said simply, in a voice devoid of emotion. Of course, it was more likely that she was thinking of the word scavenger, but she was pretty close in meaning. Not to say that she was passing judgement, she couldn’t process that kind of information yet. She had picked up other words that he spoke, such as: value, sell, credits and artifact, she understood that he was trying to make a living. However, she could not grasp beyond the surface of his words, the true meanings beneath remained hidden from her.

Distracted by lengths of colorful wire sticking out of a wall panel, she reached out and touched them. She sensed no danger from the wires; they had no current, and no life. Her head turned back in Holden’s direction and she listened carefully. It was a good question, indeed, and one that even she did not have the answer to.

“Not a droid.” Wyla noted, taking a few steps in Holden’s direction. “A cyborg.” She said as she looked down at her palms for a moment; synthskin, organic muscle, a new skeletal structure, all fixed together quite finely. Her head tilted to the side, she listened to the storm brewing outside the ship, enjoying the sound of the grains of sand hitting against their shelter. Suddenly an image flashed before her, the pod in the cargo bay.

“…I was brought here.” She said, still amused by the storm. “In a pod.”

[member="Holden Tark"]

 

[Holden Tark]

"Well when you say it like that..." he said trailing off.

She made it sound as though he was no better than a scavenger looking to pick the fresh meat off a dead corpse before it rotted away. I guess he could see how how current predicament made it seem that way, but Holden truly was a salvager, near an archaeologist, with how he usually worked. As he had explained, this was not his usual line of work. The salvager was looking for something to sell in order to finance an operation which was larger than any undertaking he'd made before. Credits were going to be needed to hire a crew. Maybe he just needed to start with cyborg he had found.

His ears perked up when he heard about the pod. His attention had been diverted to figuring out the components of the main controls. The pod though, if it sustained her while she was in travel, that could be worth something, and maybe even shed some light in where the girl came from. His assumption was she was being transported, likely to someone that had purchased her. Often times a rich buyer could afford to own such creations and employ them for services such as being a bodyguard. The pod was major clue.

"A pod? A life pod? Show me."

Holden motiined for her to lead the way. The storm was at its heaviest, and the sounds of the sand scraping away at the hull reminded them of why they were inside. The smell was still getting to Holden, though the deeper they went, the smells seemedmro subside, ironic enough.

[member="Wyla Endeel"]

 

[Wyla Endeel]

“Yes, pod is this way.” Wyla moved swiftly past Holden and took light, jovial steps back down the stairs. If it was a transport pod that he wanted, then Wyla was feeling happy to help. After all, she didn’t seem to have any further use for it now. The nearly uninhabitable first floor of the ship was still filled with smoke, but the sparking and popping of wires had stopped. Though, Wyla wasn’t bothered by it now, this was just a place, like any other. Her arms swung back and forth casually as she walked along, as if she was taking a stroll through a park on a sunny afternoon.

Wyla entered the cargo bay and found it just as she had left it. The pod was on the right side of the room, the lid strewn on the ground. She took a seat on the edge of the open pod and let her fingers gently stroke the soft padded interior. This is where she had been sleeping, now that she was seeing it again, she had the feeling that she had not been awakened so soon. It no longer mattered; she was already awake and wouldn’t sleep again for some time. “Quite comfortable.” She said, giving the pod a few pats with her hand, as if it had done well.

“This.” Wyla tapped her index finger on the edge of the pod. “It is no longer needed. Holden would like to possess it?”

[member="Holden Tark"]

 

[Holden Tark]

Holden followed into the smoke filled bowels the crashed ship had. He quickly put a breathing mask to filter the air. Smoke inhalation would kill him certainly, and that was something he didn't want. The young man actually wanted to live to see his thirties. The pod was in impeccable condition, aside for the lid which had been knocked off its hinges. That could be replaced though, and the pod sold.

"You think you can manage to help me lift it up those stairs," Holden asked nodding back with head. "There is nothing else here worth selling. The only other question is what to do with you?"

Holden paused hoping she might have an idea of what she wanted to do, or if she knew what she was designed for. So far she hadn't been able to tell him anything. Did she have a choice now? That was ironic, a cyborg with free will. There were so many implications to that one thought. All his university professors would have had a hay day with that one. Well she had to be presented with the choice first.

"You can always stick with me. Whatever you were supposed to do, or wherever you were supposed to go, doesn't matter now. It's all up to you now. What do you want?"

[member="Wyla Endeel"]

 

[Wyla Endeel]

Wyla was certainly stronger than she had been when she was human, but she hadn’t yet had the opportunity to see how strong. She jumped to her feet, grabbed the back end of the pod and easily lifted it off the ground. It would have been a bit beyond her strength to lift the entire pod herself, but now they knew that they could get the pod out between them. Yes, she wasn’t sure what to do now. Would he leave her here on this strange desert planet? She could always fend for herself, if it came to that.

The cyborg looked down at the empty pod as she considered Holden’s words. She had a decision to make now. It seemed that Holden could be a useful ally, so far he seemed trustworthy. This would certainly be a new and exciting adventure. Wyla lifted pod’s shiny lid and deftly set it back into place. Perhaps she would discover her purpose during her travels, there was only one way to find out.

“She will go with Holden.” Wyla said, a hint of a smile appearing on her face. “And help find shiny things.” The cyborg held up her hands and wiggled her fingers at Holden.

[member="Holden Tark"]

 

[Wyla Endeel]

[double post]

 

[Holden Tark]

"Shiny things... not just shiny things," he said just before grunting and lifting his end of the pod.

Good thing Wyla was a cyborg because it would have taken a minimum of four grown men to lift the pod up the stairs, and not very well either. The metal steps were barely wide enough to get the pod up, but Holden didn't see any access outside from where they were. Sure that might have been a cargo bay, but the loading ramp was blockaded by the crash no doubt. No matter, because the two would go out the way they came in... provided that hole was large enough for them to get the pod out.

The sound of the storm seemed to be subsiding. Once the pod was up the main level, Holden needed a break. He was strong, but even that was stretching it a bit since he was the one pulling it up the stairs. His shoulder muscles and pectorals were feeling sore from the awkward angle he had to hold pod as he walked it up backwards.

Finding a view port, it was confirmed the storm had passed them. Now all that was needed was to load the pod onto his speeder and take it off to Anchorhead. There would be a buyer for sure, as the pod would be a great stasis unit for someone on a long flight, another cyborg, or the preservation of someone who had passed. Either way, he knew places he could sell it, and bring a pretty good price for it, enough to set aside for the expedition he was looking to put together to find some pretty elusive artifacts.

"Well Wyla, it looks like the storm has passed. We'll head on in to Anchor head where we are going to get you some new clothes, and some boots. The dress is pretty, and you look good in it, but I can't convince people you are working with me if you're dressed like that. You don't mind getting different clothes do you?"

[member="Wyla Endeel"]

 

[Wyla Endeel]

Wyla lifted her end of the pod with ease, following Holden’s lead as they went out the way they had come in. It was looking a bit dubious at first, but they were able to get the pod up the narrow stairway and onto the main level. She felt Holden’s side of the pod drop back towards the floor, and she gently set her side down as well, even though she wasn’t tired. Wyla nodded as Holden informed her that the storm had passed, and she listened carefully, the howling winds had subsided.

“These are just coverings.” Wyla said, yanking on the fabric of her dress. “She will wear many different kinds.” Her dark eyes turned down, her bare feet did look very out of place, especially when she compared them to Holden’s rugged boots. Yes, it seemed that he dressed with a purpose, not only to cover himself and she decided that she would emulate this. Now that they were on their way back out of the broken ship, Wyla opened the hatch again and surveyed the vast horizon of golden sand.

Her eyes scanned her surroundings a last time; this was the place where she had awakened for the first time (that she could recall) as a cyborg. Despite the fact that she did not feel fearful, there was something about the ship that unsettled her. Perhaps someday she would understand why, but for now she was content to leave this place. “Ready?” Wyla stepped back towards her end of the pod again and lifted, ready to move again when Holden was.

[member="Holden Tark"]

 

[Holden Tark]

"We really have got to look at your programming and see why you keep talking in the third person," Holden said as he lifted his end of the pod back up. "Unless that isn't programming? How long have you been awake?

It was possible she was still waking up, in a sense. Once she reached full functionality then it might not be a problem. How self aware was she? That was also an important question. Holden had never worked with a cyborg before, so this was all new territory to him. THat was all for later though. For now he had to get the pod through the hatch, which fortunately was plenty big enough.

The sandstorm had not done much damage, fortunately. His speeder wasn't burried, though it could have been. That was fortunate. All he had to do was get the winch hooked up to the pod, and attach the hover platform, and the pod was good to be towed back to Anchorhead. Looking upon the ship, Holden still couldn't make it out. Likely for the best. He really didn't want to know who was going to be mad at him once the owner found out his cyborg was the only thing missing from the crash.

"Hop in the passenger seat up front," Holden said opening the top hatch of the speeder. "We'll be on our way shortly."

Getting in himself, Holden activated the towing system, and started the engine. It took a while as the speeder was older, but once it was going, the pair were well on their way back to Anchorhead. Their first stop was his ship to get Wyla set up with her own quarters, and so Holden could get a shower. The crashed ship had left him quite dirty.

[member="Wyla Endeel"]

 

[Wyla Endeel]

Wyla’s head tilted to the side, it was time to do some searching within. She did not feel that she had specific programing. Though she wasn’t sure the root of her problem, she felt that the problems she was currently experiencing were only temporary. Likely a byproduct of her sudden and unexpected awakening. As they moved the pod towards Holden’s speeder, she finally spoke again. “It is an error.” She blinked a few times, eyes adjusting to the brightness of the outdoors. “Wyla woke up just before meeting Holden. Too soon.” Not that she knew exactly how long she had been supposed to sleep.

After listening to his instruction to board the speeder, she nodded and deftly jumped in. She sat with her hands folded neatly in her lap, listening to the sound of the speeder firing up. The speeder was old and tired, but she could tell that it was reliable; it would get the job done. Shifting in her seat she turned and watched the wreckage fading further and further into the distance. Seeing the shape of the ship silhouetted against the afternoon sky reminded her of something, but the image was just beyond the edge of her memory.

“Goodbye, little one.” She said softly, more to herself than to Holden, her eyes were still on the ship. The cyborg wasn’t sure exactly what had prompted those words; they had simply escaped her lips. Perhaps it had been something she’d heard long ago, words that had followed her into her new life and she felt a stab of sadness for reasons unknown. It was now time to turn her gaze forward, and she let her attention focus on Holden.

“Thank you, for the ride.” Wyla said, a hint of a smile on her face. She was indeed thankful, and she would stick close to her new friend.

[member="Holden Tark"]

 

[Holden Tark]

Woke up too soon? Holden looked over his shoulder and took a quick glance at the life pod. She had been charging. Her brain functions were not at their full capacity. He wondered if the pod was enhancing that, or keeping her in stasis until then? Cybernetics was not his area of expertise. Sure he read up on it, what closet genius hadn't, but he still lacked knoweldge in the are of apllied science for that field of study. The only thing he could think was the the woman would need rest.

"Don't mention it. I wasn't going to leave you back there. Not everyone would be as nice to you as I have been. There are those that would want to sell you to the highest bidder. That's not something I could allow. Might be a salvager, but I have morals at least."

The last comment made Holden wonder if cyborgs had a conscience, or if they had any moral leanings at all one way or another? He ponded the question as they pulled up to his ship, and Holden opened the top hatch of the speeder once more. Jumping out he indicated it was okay for Wyla to do the same. He needed a shower before they would take the pod any where to try and sell it.

"Make yourself comfortable. I'm gonna head to the fresher and grab a quick shower to get all the grime off. Can't expect people to buy something off a dirty looking man, can I?"

He chuckled at his own joke, and headed to his quarters to grab a change of clothes and a towel. The shower itself had been refreshing, but what he wouldn't give for a real one, and not the sonic shower his ship had. That would take a lot of water, but it would worth it. The beauty about space was weight didn't matter, except on re-entry. He returned to the lounge, fully dressed, and ready to go.

"Alright first, let's get you some new clothes, and second, let's sell this pod."

[member="Wyla Endeel"]

 

[Wyla Endeel]

When they had arrived, Wyla hopped swiftly out of the speeder and followed Holden into his ship. Her eyes were taking in the details, and her fingertips were twitching slightly. She simply nodded in response to his words, not even cracking a smile at the quip about his appearance. In Wyla’s mind, she would purchase something she wanted or needed, regardless of whether or not the man looked dirty. Humor was quite lost on the cyborg, some things just didn’t compute.

As Holden went off to get cleaned up, Wyla let her eyes wander about the many panels, sensing the array of wires that lay beneath. She stood against a wall, eyes closed as she waited; it had been quite an interesting day so far, there was a lot for her to process. The short space of time that preceded her meeting with Holden was already beginning to fade away. Though, she still held the image of the dead pilot in her mind, something had been triggered inside her, and this memory seemed to be tied to it somehow. It was almost as if she had lived through his fate before, but this possibility made little sense.

Upon Holden’s return to the lounge she moved away from the wall and opened her eyes again. Again she noted the type of clothing he was wearing and what alternative purposes the clothing served. This information would aid her when picking out her own clothing.

“Yes, let us go now.”

[member="Holden Tark"]