Log:Shadowport: Unknown Cargo

Unknown Cargo

OOC Date: May 31 2021
Location: Space. Tarabba Sector
Participants: Netep Muri, Eriu Jynx, Zyrette, B'haav

The Doaba Hermi has just made the jump to hyperspace, Utapau to Obra-skai, ETA....just long enough to crack open a cold one, take a brief nap, or something much more productive, like giving the old P2 a little TLC.

Muri's probably gonna go with the nap. Sleep's never been an easy thing to come by on any sort of schedule, so she takes it when she can. But first...

"J'ni, keep an eye on 'er." Netep slips free of harness, sliiides out of her chair and edges through the seating rows to the cockpit hatch. "Gonna check the hold." Her fridge. She's barely rounded her course through the ring corridor below though before the intercomm buzzes with an alert call from the LE series repair bot in the engineering bay. Soemthing about the cargo.

Under a minute later, Muri's peering through the window in the aft-deck hatch, eyeballing the uniform stacks of crates tethered to their anchors. "Lee, you in there?" Her palm comes off the button just long enough to await a reply. When none comes, she confirms pressurization equilibrium and opens the door.

It's as silent and boring as a cargo hold ought to be. Seven or eight crates, tucked into place, containing one of those hauls she knows better than to ask too many questions about. The kind that's detailed on encrypted manifest, only, not something that's trusted lightly to the eyes and ears of the paid hauler. There weren't any ventilation holes, so she figured it wasn't too shady a load. Well. ONE of those crates appears to have jiggled loose its lid. Which just doesn't happen.

Frozen there in the hatchway, considering the sudden unease in her gut, Muri tries to herald the droid one more time. "Lee?"

Rest and relaxation is a must considering the weight of stress that clings to her daily life in the form of a living breathing male figure named Zhu Yan, Eriu has chosen to take some moments and return to Hapes. An ice caf in hand, large brimmed hat, shades and a flowing ankle length silk jacket with matching one short jumper beneath she's dressed to the nines and window shopping. Pleasant music and smells wafting over her senses she lets out a relatievly happy sound as she sips from the straw in her caf.

She pauses to stare in at exotic and rare animals, acquired only for the rich to enjoy. Her manicured nail does a tip tap on the duraglass as she leans down to get closer to what looks like a canine with three eyes.

"Hello little one!" The watch on her wrist goes off. "Oh can't stay cutie, I have a date with a hot man who knows how to touch a woman." A masseuse people, head out of the gutter. She begins that walk, walking as casually as anyone would in flats while in heels.

Zee is aboard the Blur, at the helm, the Mon Cal freighter is currently docked. Shoes off, foot propped on the console. The cockpit currently smells strongly of lacquer as the Falleen woman polishes her tow talons. Music floats up from her datapad, A Falleen music one might wager; faintly discordant, in a minor key with needlessly layer and complicated harmonies in a variety of stringed and woodwind instruments. She comes to Khalim someone else on the ship. <"Need a hand off loading the cargo?"> She gets no reply, which obviously means he's fine.

B'haav Adasta, he of the many hats and fancy heirloom cane, sits in the Grand Library on Empress Teta, sifting through a manuscript - a transcription from the original scroll on Coruscant - of Temitis Yil's Thoughts On The Essence Of Light-Based Imagery In The High-Mind Low-Mind Interchange... He'd recently had cause to recall the volume and finding a copy in Teta was a happy accident. His trade route can wait, surely. The deep gray Hapan suit has a match in the trilby with a green feather in the band which hides his palps from prying, or simply open, eyes. Beside his chair, BB-AV quietly chirps as it enjoys the full-bandwidth link to the digital database afforded by being on-location at the Library. Just a quiet day. If only they allowed tea...

"Ofax ets burrin tehn..." Muri murmurs to self, voice pitched in an on-edge, singsong sort of way. Her lean into the portside hold transitions into a full, cautious step. And another. "LEE!? You know they don't like it when we peek at the goods!"

Like, bloody nose and cracked ribs level of dislike, most times. Having had nothing but pleasent exchanges with the Institute for Archaeology before though, Muri's hardpressed to believe they'd stoop to such low-browed brow beatings.

A sudden 'clank' and strumdrumthrumrumrumrumrumrumrummmmmmwobblewobbleclack from the starboard end of things jerks her head to the left, breathe caught in throat. She watches as the O-ring trembles to a full stop, flat on the floor.

"Oh, dosh," the too-sober Captain swallows back a little lump of trepidation in her throat and reaches for her holster. It isn't there. Why isn't it there? OH the buckle incident. A vision of it lying uselessly across her pillow flashes through brain and she pinches her eyes and lips shut. A mental kick to head, that. "Hello!?" Somehow, it doesn't sound completely full of dread. She, too, was once a stowaway. Had that captain blasted her to kingdom come, the galaxy would never know the full potential of Netep Muri. And, depending on the type of stowaway, they might enver again.

"J'ni, have you got a visual on th--"

Black, things go black. Only for a moment. Emergency lighting kicks on and a very disgruntled (as much as monotone drone can be) J9 comms overhead, complaining about a power hiccup. The cockpit is full of klaxons and flashing lights, she's sure of it. "G'damn mynocks..." Muri mutters and starts to backstep her way toward the hatch, blinking rapidly while her eyes refocus. "Hey, J'ni, I'm co---"

Throughout the Hermi, a blood-curdling scream finishes her sentence. Netep Muri has left the cargo bay in her wake, not stopping to seal the hatch, beating feet through the ring, toward cockpit. "HELP!! CALL FOR HELP!!!!" she yelps into commlink before something sharp slices through her jacket and she goes tumbling to the floor. A ghastly face - drawn and pale - pointed teeth yawning into a horrific scream of rage - spindly arms ending in razor-like claws...or knives, can't tell in the heat of the moment. It flips Muri over so she might gaze into the horror of her own impending death...

And knee it in the balls. If it has balls. Netep isn't sticking around to find out. She writhes, flails, kicks, and flees. Blood dribbles in her wake all the way up the ramp into 'pit where at last she seals /that/ door and throws herself upon the comm station.

The Shadowport is hailed, en masse. Every transponder on file.

That lovely time keeper had announced the next amazing point of a treat your self day when suddenly the ship parked not so far away in the local starpart relays the distress call. Another sort of alarm rises up from it and she sighs. "Bother it all..." she gazes down at it before the holocall from her butler droid springs into view. "Duchess, it appears that a person among your questionable associates that you know as Miss Netep Muri appears to be in distress and has sent out a hailing frequency."

"How bad of a distress call is this exactly. Lenard does wonders for my lower back, I really should not miss this if at all possible."

"I suspect your grace that it is a distress call with no predetermined level. It seems importan as it came through as urgent."

Eriu lifts her fingers to pinch the bridge of her nose and lifts up the butler droid at eye level before lowering her shades. "Move my appointment with Lenard to tomorrow. Something tells me I will need the stress relief."

With that high heels, flouncy hat, perfectly coifed hair in wave and that ice caf are off at a quick pace, already hailing an air cab to get her to her ship. "Get the coordinates uploaded and prep the ship for the jump. I will be there in two minutes."

As the distress call cuts jarringly through not only her datapad, but all the Blurr's comms Zee's polish brush streaks a sticking stripe of holographic teal lacquer across her big toe. Not only that but it interrupted her favorite Movement in the Falleen symphony as as the wailing strings reach a dramatic crescendo. Ah well, can't be helped. She does a quick internal comm to Khalim to warn him he has a reduce time to finish off loading. Once their own hatch is secure, they are up, off, and away. B'haav thinks very long and hard on this particular notion. "Even the blind Kifrit of Del'ni II have three distinct words for intensity of light, and are using them symbolically." That, right there, is a kick in the dialectical jumblies. That you cannot perceive something and STILL refer to it just as the rest of the Galaxy does... The implications are immense. So immense, in fact, that B'haav pulls up his datapad, in need to write down as much as he can before this epiphany is lost forev-

DING

B'haav shakes his head and - when the hissing sussuration of shushing closes in on him - shushes everyone ELSE in the library for the noise his datapad made. He'll check the notification in a moment, he just really needs to write this down. It's almost go-

DING DING DING DING DING DING DING DINGDINGDINGDINGDINGDINGDINGDING

"KRIFF," yells the Balosar, prompting dead silence in the area immediately surrounding him, for having violated the inviolable sanctity of quiet in the library. He taps the datapad in fury, sees the hail, and taps for information. Coordinates. Ship Name. Urgent. He taps for more information. Coordinates. Ship Name. Urgent. Double-Urgent. SUPER DAMN DUPER URGENT. "Kriff," he echoes, more quietly, even as his original shout still echoes lightly in the rafters. B'haav jumps up from the seat, sending BB-AV skittering and rolling to right himself as he looks about - still droid-drunk on high-bandwidth downloads. B'haav takes up the datapad, shoulders his satchel, then - looking around - throws the manuscript in the bag and BOLTS for the door. No one else is going to read it anyway. The BB unit speeds along behind him, occasionally bumping into chairs.

"S-st-arweird. Starweird," Muri's own face has turned ghastly shades, like she has in fact seen a ghost. Without the Audiotizer 3400's help. She might be genuinely afraid, she might be horrendously high - it's hard to tell via holocom, for what few pilots do pickup. What IS visible is a dark stain spreading out from her hair, over cheek, and eyes wider than dinner plates at an all-you-can-eat buffet.

No doubt, the cockpit's ripening with Lorrdian musk. Of all the species out there who produce sniffable aromas, the Lorrdian BO is probably one of the more benign, if not favorable ones, to the sophisticated palate. Citrusy, spicy...But for those unfamiliar with the subspecies of 'human', it can be a lot in such...sweaty doses. And Netep Muri is most definitely sweaty. The clammy kind, more fear-based than exertion, even if she did just make a dash for her life.

What IS a starweird? Those prepping their craft for flight or waiting for the navcomp to program the jump might have time to holonet it. The spacers' boogeyman, essentially, is what it is. No proof exists. A few first-hand accounts, but mostly second and third because the majority of folks who've allegedly been targeted by a starweird do not live to tell the tall tale. In fact, if rumors can be believed, Muri's closed hatch visible behind her is not going to st--

It opens. The holofeed remains live as chaos ensues, catching fragmented bits and pieces - like the piece of the J9 worker drone that goes flying through the air as it's whacked with a hefty hand crank. There's a blur of something, or someone, rampaging around in there, engaging in a very bodily struggle for control of the ship with Muri, who's guarding the holocomm with her life. Who or whatever it is is almost skeletal thin, clad in tattered robes, hairless, pale as death. An Analysis Droid might make a more objective and accurate identification of the assailant, based on paused images and reassessed angles.

It is a Pau'an.

And while it is definitely taller than Muri - by a lot - it is rail thin and that makes the swarthy Ibhann'I-Lorrdian mutt's struggle to fend them off a /little/ bit hilarious. Like. If she survives.

Maybe by now Muri's had enough time within better lighting to realize her mistake, but it's too late to recant her request for aid. Also, she's losing.

The 'crack' of that same crank deflecting off Muri's forearm and winging her skull transmits. She staggers back, sways, slumps, but doesn't quite go down.

"Th..." now a lurch in the opposite direction. "F-frell you doin....on..." Muri's voice has almost faded. Until it's back, at surround-sound volume. "MY SHIIIIIP!!!?" As she slithers down the navcomp's console, leaving Ormond and a weird little metal cube up there defenseless...out of view of those holo-watchers, of course.

Letting the droid pilot do the work, Eriu leans over as the computer spits out the location of where the coordinates end. "Well then. That seems to be a problem. We are going to have to get this ship close and I can line over to it in EVA." With that the Hapan pushes up to her feet and moves to go get everything she will need. The void armor takes some time to get into. The technique is perfected over a year of wearing the armor.

Wiggle. Scooch. STRAIN. WIGGLE HOP! Finally in the armor with a few clasps to seal it, she keeps the helmet under her arm.

"This hair...perfect no more after this moment." She takes a moment to lament her hair right before they lurch out into normal space and start to angle towards the Hermi.

Her helmet goes on over the hair after its swept up and in. The sword strapped to her side and the bryar on her other are checked before she heads for the side airlock.

<"Steady there. Bring her close. NO NOT ...okay good. This is fine. Send over the line.">

She waits for them to be secured and then opens the airlock, letting out the atmosphere as she grips at the line and pulls herself across. <"Netep I need you to open the airlock."> This is broadcast through to the hermi.

At the near Netep's location beacon, Khalim fills Zee in on the appropriate space lore. Starweirds are added to her mental databanks. None the less as she watches the feed in stoic silence, it occurs to here this might not be the feared Starweird. None the less, the eventually come out of hyper, not far from the Majestic and the the Doaba float in space. SHe lets Khalim deal with the EVA space walk. As the deep spacer he is, he's far more suited to it. She goes over comes, <"Voice Blurr here. Eriu Jynx, Khalim is coming out to assist with mooring.">

B'haav is on the Pharple, already keying in coordinates and feeding them to the R2 unit even as the ship's engines are coming online. Once they're on the way out of Teta, he pulls up the holo transmission from the Doaba Hermi. If he wasn't concerned before, he DEFinitely is now. Playing fast and loose with the laws of astrophysics, B'haav floats the jump to hyperspace before they've left the gravity well of Empress Teta, the ship's engines cutting to a halt and drifting the last unit to safety as the hyperdrive winds up. Luckily, the ship makes the leap without tearing itself or the system apart.

B'haav runs to the back, looking for his Void suit. Void suit, in the locker. Void suit, in the locker... On the Clumsy Satellite. The fast-response ship, not the cargo hauler. "Kriff." B'haav knows more words, honest. He runs to the front and sends a voice comm to the Hermi, unsure if it will be heard or not. "Netep Muri, I'm en route. I'll have to dock with you though. My... Void Armor is in another locker." And the princess is in another castle.

Armed as well as he can be, B'haav has his satchel slung over his shoulder and sits at the controls as the ship pulls back out of hyperspace. Already, he's the last to arrive, the Blur and the Majestic already in evidence and figures moving towards the Ghtroc 720 that is the origin of distress. B'haav transmits to the area at large, all frequencies. <<"This is The Hunting Pharple, coming in to dock at the Hermi. I... Please avoid the docking tubes, this is new for me.">> What follows is a sequence of tight maneuvers, sweating on the forehead, and muttered "kriff"s under the breath.

"I'm s..." Muri's head jerks upright like she was nodding off and sends a very long look over shoulder to the intruder now seated directly behind her. A crackle-spit of sparks tells her that some connections have been severed overhead back there. What to, she cannot yet discern. How long has she been out?

"I c..I can't." An apologetic admission of failure, but whether it's to the familiar voices sounding out from the depth of the void or to the not-a-starweird 'starweird', it isn't so obvious. The holocall was severed - entire unit obliterated by another swing of that tool, which now lies inertly by the soft-soled, slender shoes braced tensely on the floor behind Muri's seat. Anticipating another round of pushback from the pilot.

"I can't do that. You don't want me to do that." Muri's cracked voice still haunts the comm channel because her left hand's still pressing the 'emergency' button under dash. Sneakily. Somehow.

"IT WASN'T YOURS TO TAKE!!!" the mystery voice shrieks at unholy pitch and volume. So like a starweird, except this frequency is real and not telepathic. "IT ISN'T THEIRS TO HAVE!"

"OW-I...I know I--OKAY! Okayokay jus--just wait." Muri slips a glance out her viewport to see ships converging. "Listen..." she sounds so tired. "If I divert from my course now, if I'm delayed any further in delivering this--YOUR ... inheritance? If I fail to deliver, there's gonna be a whole team of watch dogs combing every port between there and Utapau, lookin for this ship. Sooner or later, they?re gonna find us. And..."

Muri casts a wistful look to the copilot's chair and the space between it and hers, where airlock toggles are situated. Another glance eyeballs the atmo readings throughout the ship. Whatever the Pau'an had torn up between cargo hold and here, he/she/they had a sense of self preservation and hadn't tried to vent the hold. Or the aft hatch is shut. Either way, the docking tubes in the rear of Hermi's upper deck - her deck - ought to be marginally safe. The lower lift area though...unknown.

"And it's gonna be bad. For you, for me..." she coughs a ragged sound and closes her eyes. Listening. Listening for sounds of hesitation. For signs that the angry, estranged heir has been seeded with self-doubt. What she /hears/ is a telltale 'shkkkt' that they have not. At least, not enough.

Muri twists in her chair - one foot lashing out to try and kick the airlock switches, one arm swinging back to try and bop aside that pointed edge so very pointy against her nape. Neither of those two maneuvers go quite as smoothly as she'd envisioned because holofilm stuntwoman she is NOT.

For those making to board, they're gonna have to find a way without the Hermi's help.

With no answer from Netep after waiting about a minute she comms over to the others. <"Something is wrong inside. She would have gotten to us if she could by now. I am ginding us a way in...by force." Eriu pulls up the self contained system on the arm of her void. She uses the all tool to loosen the covering on the panel and lets it side open so she can link with it. Once patched in she begins to run the series of patterns and gets a little too eager.

The sudden jolt makes her gasp and she winces. "That was not right. Let the sequencer run its course, Eriussa, stop being an eager loth cat."

Second time is a charm and the first set of outer doors open. <"You can come in through EVA in the cargo bay area, otherwise I will try to get you guys in once I have access to the interior system.">

Once inside the airlock, she closes the door behind her but does not yet mess with taking off her suit. Her boots clank against the floor and she moves over to the next panel.

As Ej does her computer slicing magic, Khalim returns to the Blur. There were certain things Zee was confident doing. Piloting really wasn't one of them. Especially trying to parallel park to dock with an inhert ship, and so many other vessels in close proximity. Khalim took over controls, Freeing Zee to grab her armor and weapons. She waited at the hatch as Khalim secured the docking arm. <"Eriu Jynx, this is Zyrette, unless we want to stage a second rescue, I think it best for me to wait. I am on standby,">

B'haav's also received no response from the Hermi and had come to much the same conclusion and plan as the Hapan duchess. Of course... He was much less confident in his computer skils. The Balosar is delicately adjusting the Pharple's alignment alongside the starboard docking arm, using the RCS thrusters to perfectly match the docking hatch of the Pharple. All of this maneuvering takes time, though, and as B'haav locks his vector to that of the Hermi, intent to see how readily he and his seeker can work through the interface of the Hermi's docking system to pressurize the docking port, another call from Eriu Jynx.

<"Hunting Pharple hears and acknowledges, Duchess. I'm on the starboard dock. If you can pressurize it from within, that would make me feel a lot safer about everyone involved than me and the ID10 trying to figure it out from our end. I'll wait, like Zyrette."> With a smile quirking his lips, B'haav starts sorting through his rawhide satchel. Oh yes, there are some very great ideas brewing in his head. But he'll make sure to be standing and looking super cool with his cane when the door opens. It's important to make an entrance.

The inside of Doaba Hermi's cargo lift is serene and pristine. Somehow. However hot a mess Netep Muri is in the real world, she keeps her ship's interior in decent enough, functioning order, and even manages a good scrub down now and again. Over the years, she's become familiar with every nook and cranny in the lunky freighter and knows all her vibrations by heart. In spite of looking like a bloated turtle, it's worth remembering that this ship flew into the heat of that battle for Exegol...and lived.

Woman and ship are 'one'. What does the silence say, then, so eerily quiet and still, about the good Captain Muri?

The Pau'an extracts herself from Muri's mostly dead weight on the floor and stumbles back a few steps toward the cockpit hatch. Her drawn, ghostly palor is smeared with red. How much of it is her own? She does not know. It's been a bad day. The plan has not gone as smoothly as she'd envisioned, either, and now there are two - no - three ships in contact-proximity with this floating coffin. Which she cannot fly. That's what the still-nameless woman on the floor was supposed to do. How did things go so...so poorly?

"....tits up.." a burbly wheeze from the floor says that her pilot isn't dead yet, so. There's still hope.

Eriu Jynx says, "I swear, Netep, if I contract some deadly disease or get shot by pirates or something of that nature there will words." This is said as Eriu begins her work on the far more intricate and dedicated interior seals and locks. Last line of defense as it were.

But Erui, the Duchess of House Jynell gets her wires crossed and the first time she legitmately tries to access the database itself she finds herself stonewalled. <"Copy to both of you. Going to see if I can't override airlocks for you here. Just make sure whatever you show up in in space worthy. We don't know what is going on inside.">

That said she curses and quickly pulls a wire. She begins her work diligently running sequences and what seems like forever finally ends. She hears the rush of artificial atmo and the doors unlocking shortly after.

The click of her helm light helps illuminate the cargo bay as she enters. <"Your docking airlocks are functional. Going in...its very quiet."> She keeps her comms open to the others as she steps in, the beam of light sweeping over the crates until she finds the one popped open. <"By the moon...we have a problem. There is a cargo crate open...as someone who deals with such things as I know you two are as well. Likely something is loose in here...">

"NETEP!?"

The next sound in the cargo bay is the elegant blade at her side being drawn.

As Ej speaks, Zee looks down at her armor. It was not sealed or EVA. Of course being Falleen she could hold her breath for a long period, but, she didn't want to start testing that capability just now. She hurried to the storage locker and started to change. Poodoo. her new void suit was on the Huntress. Oh well, Khalim's spare was going to have to do. She pulled on the slightly baggy suit and starting pulling the clasps. the helmet went on last, and sealed with a hissing thwuck. <"Heading over."> And with that, she did, crossing from the Blur, to the Hermi.

B'haav looks down to his Hapan silk suit, then looks at the locker as he makes a note to get a second set of Void Armor. "It may not be space-worthy, but... It's really well cut. Hopefully that counts for something..." He looks to the Seeker droid, which shifts with its many articulated arms before looking to BB-AV, who TWEEERPS. "No, of course... It doesn't matter if I die. But... There isn't much other choice. If something does happen, both of you listen to the first Shadowport member to find you. They'll see you're taken care of until my affairs are sorted." My, it's cheery on the Pharple.

EJ's informational is timed with a hiss on the other side of the door, decrying the positive pressure of a readied docking port. B'haav taps a button and the portal slides open. Looking cool for exactly nobody, he looks to the two droids. "Idio, Bav, stay close. Stay safe." There's a click and a hum as his cane's ornate cap slides to the side, revealing a large powernode, ready to fry any bodied issue that they may encounter. Looking around, B'haav tries to figure out a layout that makes sense. There's a brief pause as he tries to recall where... An analysis droid. Something unlikely to be moving, like a J9 or some of the other droids. Moving through the arm and towards the fore, the Balosar finds a ramp down, squinting to follow the board-lights towards the captain's quarters. The datapad doubles as his comms.

<"Eriu Jynx, Zyrette, I'm going to the Captain's Quarters to find her Analysis Droid. It's likely going to make navigating this place easier... To find you all if nothing else. Possibly to gain access to closed systems. As soon as I can, I'll make my way to the bay."> Looking back to the glowing red eye of the seeker droid, B'haav shakes his head and continues to go further into the depths of the ship.

"I've got a bad feeling about this."

Eriu is already feeling the dark that crowds in around her narrowed field of view. The lowlight on the void can only do so much for her. She clears her throat when no answer comes and she nods, as if B'haav and Zyrette are next to her.

Save they are not.

Cursing below her breath she lifts the sword to ready and edges forward, toeing something she finds on the floor before her helmeted head with its light comes up. "Muri if thats you, show yourself." She sounds..confidant if a bit hesitant.

Inching forwards she keeps the sword at ready and tries to get a look in the direction of which the sounds are coming from. The clanking draws her towards the aft of the cargo bay.

Once Zee gets her feet on the deck, the Falleen takes a moment to get her bearings. She is far more comfortable in the dark than likely their Leader, but it still slows her down a bit. She pulls up a mental image of the basic Hermi schematic and starts heading herself in that direction. She moves as swiftly as she safely can, given the conditions and unknowns. She heads for the cockpit. Or at least her best estimation.

Fortunately, her guesses seem accurate, and land her at the sealed hatch of the cabin. She loosens her void suit, so she can get at her 'tools' in her holster pouch. No door is ever truly locked... In the course of getting out her datapad however, she notices the blood droplets. She kneels beside them, trying to decide if they lead into the cockpit, or away from it.

B'haav's descent to the lower deck find a familiar sight for the Balosar. Dark spatters and small pools on the floor along the lower decks... Familiarly... Yes... That's blood. Even without the copper scent, the visual is too identical to an earlier visit to this ship. B'haav double-times to the Captain's quarters, navigating by memory. <"Eriu Jynx, Zyrette... I'm on the lower decks, making my way to the Quarters. There's.. a fair amount of blood here. Hopefully the droid will cooperate and I can get a system readout of life-forms on board. We need to find her, fast.">

Slamming the door open, he looks around the quarters, sparing glances for the small figurines, and the bookshelf. Finally, he spots what he wants. Tapping the Analysis droid awake, B'haav is insistent on the information. "I need a readout. Number of life forms, locations on the ship. Vital information, for the sake of the Captain. Can you help me?" Steel-grey eyes plead with the droid.

The Doaba Hermi shudders. Twice. Her docking tubes have mated to companion vessels and airlocks cycled.

Netep can feel it in the faint tremors of deck plating. It's about all she can do to keep apprised of the situation from her lowlier than low of vantage points - the floor. Violet eyes roll around in sockets to try and keep tabs on her 'unknown' cargo, but all they find is a crunched veggie crisp of indeterminate age. How did she miss that?

"Nnfffgghtfpt," she says, blowing crimson bubbles from the piercing she'd never asked for, about '4' o'clock on her throat, if her larynx was '12'. In spite of its grisly appearance, it's missed her brainstem, her spine, her artery(mostly, probably).

Luck o'the Muri.

"Nnnyye're gon-na ffffii-nnd-d y-yoooooou..." she warns from the floor, fingers crammed as far as they can into the hole because isn't that what you're supposed to do? Her other hand is wiping the latest trickle of red from her eyes, trying not to touch the swelling knot present there on her temple. "I-I'm sssso-rry." She is, too. "Sss...ppplant?" The 'wipe' hand shakily rises to point vaguely up, toward her chair and the console in front of it. "Is.."

The Pau'an's bent, pale face is morphing weirdly into a darker shape, craggy like stone. "Nno.." Netep rolls over onto her stomach, closing her eyes against the hallucination. The judges are nigh.

"Sss'a kit. Kit." She burbles, reaching for the underside of the captain's chair. Medkit. "Yooou f-fikssssss I ffffffliiiigh."

The Pau'an turns her long-necked head from the blastdoor, knife held at half mast, likely trying to listen for whoever might be out there. She tracks the wounded captain's movements, does the math, deciphers the slurs. I fix, she flies? The mistrust is crystal clear on her face, but what other options are there? Slowly, she edges away from the door, toward the helm.

Meanwhile, in engineering bay...There is no Netep Muri. There IS, however, a floundering, mostly headless LE-series repair droid who, ironically, is in need of serious repairs. The vocabulator has been shattered by some blunt force and cranium knocked muchly askew. It keeps bumping into things, trying to locate all the needed hardware to administer some first aid to self. While creepy, it can't be the weirdest thing EJ has seen in all her time spent slumming it with Shadowport.

The Analysis droid perks up its disc-shaped head from whatever it was contemplating at Muri's desk - holo recordings, looks like. Holo recordings of...zombies? Wtf is that??? Said head goes on the swivel, followed by rest of the body and it tilts a scanning look toward B'haav. "Processing," explains the very politely feminine voice prgrammed therein. "Yes. I can help you with that. Number of lifeforms, scanning..." An articulated arm comes up, one digit plugging into the computer terminal to interface with the whole of the Hermi. A long minute passes of silent communication between the info bot and Hermi's brain.

"Scan complete. Eighteen lifeforms found." Wait. "Five of substantial mass." Is it...counting plants? "Four lifeforms mobile. Locations..." another tilt of the head. "One lifeform located in...Aft deck, cargo hold. One lifeform located in...midship, Captain's quarters. One lifeform located in...Upper deck, fore corridor. Two lifeforms located in...Upper deck, cockpit."

Eriu's senses go up and she lifts the sword only to find a malfunctioning droid bumping its way around the cargo bay. She lowers the blade and gives a wary look around. Eery. That is what this whole thing is and she's not feeling overly excited about it. After all she left Lenard back on Hapes.

<"I need to know what exactly did damage to you...and where is Netep Muri?"> Her modulated voice seemingly calm through the void armor's helmet. She gets her answers and stops, glancing at the door to the cargo and heads for it, giving one last look back before she starts up the corridor. For the first few meters she is looking back and forth for the culprit only to sweep the light over something shiny that gives her pause.

Her light trails up along the path of it and then Eriu starts to hurry, sword held in hand.

<"Copy Doctor."> There was a long pause as the Falleen woman continued to analyze the blood splatters. Zee went back over comms. <"There's a blood trail that leads from within the ship, into the cockpit. The Cockpit is presently sealed. Will attempt to unlock."> And this is what she is presently doing, should either of the others arrive at the cockpit. Head bent over her datapad, as she attempts to sweet talk it open for them.

<"Five substantial lifeforms... Four mobile... Three of them are us. Aft Cargo hold, Captain's quarters is me, Upper deck Fore, and two in the Upper deck, cockpit... So, either... There's a large ooze-like being of some sort, or... Call out where you are. Or have been. I think Muri's down."> Not all the way down, or there wouldn't have been five life forms, would there? Unless there were two intruders aboard... But B'haav wasn't about to let that assumption take root. If anyone has an issue with his logic... They can bring it up themselves. B'haav looks to the Analysis droid.

B'haav steps back out into the hall, the Analysis droid left to its devices at the desk. He cranes his neck, as though it will make things more audible within the empty corridors. Unfortunately, nobody is stomping around, so B'haav has to trust his instincts. Unfortunately... The instincts are terrible, and B'haav plus two droids head aft. Away from literally everyone on the ship and into useless quiet.

The door to the cockpit slides ajar without much fuss under Zee's tampering. The 'aft deck' hatch to cargo bays will likewise glide apart and admit B'haav and his droids to backtrack the steps of Eriu Jynx and explore a mostly vacant hold with its few but poignant hints about what's transpired here. Further aft, right up under the turtle's tail, is the engineering bay and inside THAT, the LE-series repair droid has managed to get its own head on mostly straight.

Between the tail and head, Eriu Jynx is making headway with her sword in tow and very shortly she'll be facing the options of 'up' - to be rewarded with a look at Zee's bum - or 'out' to be rewarded with deafening wails of WARNINGWARNING and the icy vaccuum of space. 'Up' is definitely the better choice. For two reasons.

"STAY BACK!!" The lanky, tatter-robed Pau'an shrieks at the Falleen suddenly filling the opened hatch. The hollows under her cold, black eyes are red and raw, like meat. Like...Pau'an. Given her disheveled state though, it's sort of possible to understand how Muri mistook her for a Starweird. Under the right lighting, which, due to her own tampering, was not right. And the things she mistook for talons? Knives. Or one, as is held currently. Predictably, it's held to Muri's throat and for once in this whole ordeal, Muri isn't fighting the abuse. She's slouched like an understuff puppet against the nav console access panels, propped up there by the Pau'an's knee as the intruder crouches alongside/over her, one hand dug into her collar (holding her aloft) one hand placing bloody edge under a blood-smeared chin.

"Hhh..." Muri wheezes, lashes fluttering apart a bit more widely to regard the new entry with a sad, somewhat apologetic (or at least lopsided) smile. Is it a smile? A grimace, maybe. "Ss...ssorta what lookslike...b-but..nnnn..p-p-pleassssssssss.."

UP?! She has to go up. That means using one hand to pull her up because she's not going to let go of that sword. Grasping the rungs, she uses her one hand to reach up, pull and then continue her way up. Finally she climbs out onto the next level, bracing a foot to make sure that she does not fall back. The scene that greets her gives her pause before she calls out.

<"Put down your weapon or I will run you through! Get away from Netep!"> There is a growl, something she may have picked up from Yan but she starts to turn, twist away from the ladder when her other foot catches on the other and makes the once what might have been intimidating display somewhat less bravado.

Despite, or because of Ej's less than graceful introduction to the sudden tableau, Zee had to think quickly. She had no weapons in hand. She needed none. She drew herself to her full 5'9". Not to be intimidation, but perhaps project an air of superiority and confidence. She was Falleen, it was kinda their thing. "This ship is being boarded. Further reinforcements are currently en route. We do not wish further blood shed, but neither can we allow you to continue to endanger out associate."

B'haav finds aft. He finds aft really well. The cargo bay, complete with a slightly un-unassembled LE droid the only payoff this direction. Not the cockpit. "Cockpit!" He shouts to the droid, who is vaguely able to gesture... BACK. "Kriff!" Spinning, the Balosar attempts to get to the other end of the ship before his mistake costs a life. Halfway through, he gets a stitch in his side though, and he begins to stumble in his stride.

The Pau'an tenses like a loaded spring, but after Eriu stumbles, some of that tension relaxes. Beady eyes go next to regard the Falleen woman again, this time with deeper scrutiny.

It's /possible/ that there are more en route. The holocomm was activated, briefly, and the pilot did warn that the Obra-Skai port authority would sense something amiss when the delivery didn't show. But they aren't /that/ late, are they? There's a lot to consider here, in the game of truth or dare. Lie or die. "What's in the hold is /mine/" she opts to begin there, asserting her place in all of this. If she IS going to die, it's better to have one's grievances aired. "Was never theirs to take!"

Netep, the unwitting pawn in this cargo take-back scheme, was just trying to earn an honest living for the day. See what honest trade gets you? No longer able to contribute to the conversation and defend her attacker from her saviors, Muri just sorta slumps sideways a little more heavily into the skinny alien's hip. Her left eye is open a smidge, sclera red as rubies, and a weepy bit of moisture leaks out. Tears?

"Just close your eyes, approach the wall, they're waiting lit-tle chil-dren..." The lyrics do not lilt from silent lips, only echo somewhere in the remnants of her consciousness. It's a comfort, knowing where to go next. Even for someone who made a living flying by seat of her pants.

<"As that may be or not...it does not matter at all. What matters is that you have my friend and a high standing member of Shadowport struck down at your side. By your hand. Which you are about to not be able to use for some time.">

Eriu makes good on her promise as she steps in, sweeping that thin but strong blade down towards the arm holding the weapon to knock it from the Pau'an's hand. <"Have you ever heard the term do not kill the messenger? I suggest you become familiar with it. She is being paid to do one thing....cargo. Let us end this and allow our people to see to her. You will have to take your trouble up with those that DID take it.">

B'haav, finally pushing through the stitch, climbs to the upper level and sees clearly the bloody mess that is their friend - Captain Muri and the Throat Wound. "Netep Muri!" Jumping up the last few rungs, he's fumbling the medkit out of his satchel and pushes forward, little regard for whether or not the being over Muri has any opinion on his approach. "My name is B'haav Adasta, and she is our friend and associate. I'm going to heal her. If she dies, you die. If you impede my healing attempts to save her life, you die. If you stand back, and let me heal her, you will be heard out. I will even see to your wounds. You will decide now, because if she dies... You will lose more than an arm. Step back, or make yourself right with your creator."

Zee side steps out of the door as there is suddenly a lunging Ej, She takes a moment to step aside, and speak in hushed, sibilant tones over her helmet com to Khalim, still aboard the Void Blur. Right as Ej slices into the being holding Muri, Zee signals for the warning shots to be fired, just past the ship's bow.

In spite of a great many things being bashed or torn asunder in here, there is one tiny thing unharmed.

It is EJ's very favorite thing.

Five tiny things, actually, four moreso than the parent planimal who must be hefted into palm if held. Ormond and its brood preside over the scene with blobby indifference, colorful lobes as shimmery and lovely as ever, if a bit more red-flecked than usual.

The Pau'an hisses her fury, hand rendered useless by the surgical precision of Eriu's blade and there's nothing but spiteful glares of pure hatred left to wield against the approaching Balosar. She gives Muri a shove, sending the woman's limp body listing to the floor with a meaty thud while she, herself gains a few scoots' distance away, against the edge of copilot chair and deactivated J9 worker drone's leg. The sudden flare of light streaking across the Hermi's bow lends credit to Zee's threat about reinforcements. But...what would they shoot? Their own people!?

Netep breathes intermittently, proof that she hasn't given up the ghost yet. She just wanted a nap, honestly. For once, there are no quips, no wisecracks to turn B'haav all shades of rose while he works some first aid magic. She is, however, going to ruin another one of his suits.