Log:Sweet Rot and Dark Tidings

Sweet Rot and Dark Tidings

OOC Date: July 20, 2019
Location: CRS Tamburro, Deep Space, Inner Rim
Participants: Jessika Pava, Narsai Ordo, Iollan Canem, Dyannah Nerus, Oozlevort, Netep Muri, Nova Korell, Sajin, Zandra naMuriel, Aryn Cole

Civilian Cruiser: Tamburro, Deep Space Inner Rim

The 'Tamburro' is a 100 year old cruiser retrofitted to serve as a massive commercial liner. It has many portholes that can be seen from space, though many have flickering lights. The ship, which is massive, has gone adrift. Scans reveal that the vessel is functioning. Scans to determine life come back scrambled and unreadable. Something is distorting sensors here. The vessel has airlocks located near the stern of the vessel.

<<"Transport Tamburro.. this is Shuttle SIU, do you copy?">>-- Static. <<"I say again, Transport Tamburro, this is Shuttle SIU, do you copy? Over.">> Static.

The pilot turns back to look at the crew assembled in the personnel hold. Everyone was given the order to prepare to board. "No joy on comms. Just hot mic or static. Something is rekking with our sensors. //Bad//." The pilot emphasized. Their vessel dips along a slow trajectory to align with the massive bulk freighter, Tamburro.

Aryn Cole stands near the back of the group wearing a compact set of scout armor. It's comprised of a chest piece harness, protective undersuit that's environmentally stable, reinforced greeves and boots, and she's carrying a sword, sans a cape or any sense of fashion this time. A utility belt that's fashioned in black is fastened around her midsection. It carries a holdout Blurrg blaster in a holster along the small of her back, and a Naboo-Arms S5 blaster is seated in a drop-leg holster. Shadowsilk is wrapped around her neck, pronouncing just how blonde her hair is. Without make-up, the angry scar over her left eye shows well under the dim light in the hold.

"Everyone prepare to breech. The pilot has the ship moving to the air lock now. Our goal is to ascertain the fate of this ship, its crew, and the survivor from Umgul. I recommend weapons be drawn upon exit of the craft."

The pilot settles near the Tamburro and slides the transport into docking position. The pilot seals himself in the cockpit, and the crew can hear the tell-tale hiss of the airlock mooring up and pressurize. A green light signals that it is safe to open the hatch.

Dressed in the concealing gear of a shadowsuit and the functional goggles with its multiple capabilities, there's nothing about Jessika Pava that stands out to external view. She has a belt slung around her waist with a sidearm on her right hip and extra blaster packs on her left. The only other thing she's carrying is a sling-attached blaster rifle, which she has at the low ready, barrel oriented towards the groudn so she's not flagging any of her teammates. If someone looks like they're ready to breach, it's Jessika. Her thumb braces near the selector switch to her rifle, ready to slip its safety off should the barrel need to come up for engagement. She's not waiting to step through the exit to get her weapon ready.

The green light goes on. Her fist bumps the panel. A hiss of hydraulics and whirring servos lift it open, allowing her to pass quickly into the new zone with her barrel snapping up. She sweeps left, looking immediately for targets to engage.

Oozlevort was hired by that wealthy Coruscanti family because people from the Core Worlds have too many credits and not enough sense. The Findsmen of Gand are a mysterious sect who find things, so why not hire one to locate your family? So here the alien is, dressed in robes and with an isolator rebreather protecting him from deadly oxygen poisoning. He checks a data display readout on his wrist, then draws a white officer's pistol and checks the charge. Usually the Gand does official bounty hunting, but times are tough.

Zan actually is maybe not entirely identifiable, with the armour she's got. It's got a funky helmet, but does give her some nice full range vision and life support. She can hope it helps, anyway. She might look a bit nervous, but nobody can see at least. She takes a few moments to center herself, before she moves, joining the group without a word.

Boarding actions: Not anybody's idea of fun. Nova has done a couple of these in the past, so she knows the basics pretty well. She's already stacked up beside the door, carbine in her hands with the safety on, ready to step onto the ship they've just docked with. Jessika's at the hatch, of course, which means following to back her up.

The light comes on, the hatch is opened, and she's through right behind Jessika, her own weapon snapping up into engagement position with the telltale *clack* of a safety being disengaged. She pivots right to protect that flank, watching for potential trouble to that side. "Stay sharp, folks..."

Iollan had taken position nearer the front of the group as they began to dock, a habit now on these sort of missions. His own armour was a well-fit, if light, and the dark display of his helmet gave little away in his calm demeanor. One hand gripped the overhead, mitigating the small sway of motion as they came in contact with their destination. As advised, his weapon was already draw, held lax by his hip as he looked over the small boarding party one more time.

But then the light is on and it's time to shake and bake; he steps off just behind Jessika, leveling his DL-18 up near chest level, scanning the immediate area with a quick back and forth. <"Try and keep it tight, yeah?"> comes over the comms, lilting and assured still as the missions gets underway.

"I feel like we should've docked more than one ship to this big lunk," Netep Muri says for probably the third or fourth time since everyone piled into this transport and went in pursuit of the derelict bulky, as the pilot's talking about hot Mikes and joyful comms. Yellow eyes blink from one somewhat familiar visage to others not so much, to the one which she /just/ saw, earlier today, from behind the protective film of her helmet. Already sealed, ready to go. Because those sensors can't be trusted to relay /any/ information, far as the space gypsy is concerned.

"What if the show turns south and we need more than one exit strategy?" Okay, so probably by this fourth time (I'd hope) it clear to all that this little lady isn't exactly military-grade mission material. She's here for other reasons. 1) Spare pilot. 2) Personal history with the University of Coruscant and its archaeology-sentientology departments. 3)Affiliation with the increasingly known Explorer's Guild who've made their own splashes in the science community (mostly acquiring haters). 4)She's half Ibhann'I, and as such possesses that fatal curiosity gene that prompts one to wander where they oughtn't, so we're sorry but here she is.

"Drek..." a whisper of frustration to self once muscling her suited form out of the harness and tugging her flashlight from the utility belt encircling her waist. The life support indicator blinks a cheery shade of green over her left shoulder. All's well, in Muriville. The flashlight: aka DL-18 comes up in hand like she sorta means it but doesn't quite have the snap-to posture that those already breaching the airlock have down to a science. <<I'm keepin it tight!>> she ensures 'darling' up ahead. And she is. Practically stepping on the heels of those she trails along after.

Suppleness or armor is always the question for Dyannah. The swoop suit, unusual for its color black, fulfills her need to move quickly. Her blue hair is plaited and tightly halos her head. For a race that prefers harmony, she is well armed - perhaps, her answer to finding harmony in the situation that they are moving into. Two guns, one in an arm holster - the Blurgg and the other, a Caelli-Merced Series III, strapped to the belt that cinches her waist and is secured with a strap around her thigh complete her desire for, at the least, survival.

Dyannah follows in the middle of the group, gun at the ready but sweeping with her empathy for life. "Light," she mutters and smiles wryly to herself.

Narsai was here, apparently once more here for the credits and perhaps chipping away at impressions of all Mandalorians being homicidal raiders and violent criminals to a one. There was no suprises in what she was wearing, her trusted Beskar'gem of black and red, battered by time and without the 'mask' that was treasured by her people in favor of her long-trusted normal helmet. She was similarly armed to the teeth, her blaster pistols strapped to her right hip and the front of her belt respectively in a 'gunslinger' draw her brother had once favored while her carbine rested on her left thigh, secured out of the way but offering a little more firepower.

Of course, there was still that bracer too, but flamethrowers were reserved for when there weren't friendlies in front of her.

Pistol drawn and fair features hidden behind her T-Visor, Narsai moves with the pack toward the front, covering her own angles and nodding to the advice offered. At least the crew seemed to have some knowledge about them! "Noone go wandering off now," she adds off-hand. Already, this was eerily familier to her.

Sajin is not far from Doctor Cole, feeling he should probably keep an eye on her after the cave incident. He didn't vocalize that at any point but he always kept her in view of his tracking system. As a prep for breech was called, he would stand and double check hus armor and helm attachments on his power armor, along with shock gauntlets, the massive ryyk blade strapped across his back and the equally large and tricked out bowcaster. The king of Drik gives a sioent thumbs up, indicating he was ready for action.

The hatch spirals open, and the view of a clear umbilical reveals a narrow walkway to reach the Tamburro ship. They encounter no issue crossing this umbilical, but the air is cold, and if they couldn't feel it because of their armor, they could see it from the ones like Aryn, who breathed out puffs of foggy warm air. Silence filled the space of the umbilical save for the steps they took, and when they reached the other side, the hatch behind them snapped shut. The hatch AHEAD of them opened, revealing an airlock chamber that suffered a flickering light.

The air, like the umbilical, was equally cold here. The area around them clear of threats, though the 0g suits that often hung upon the bulkhead racks were all missing. A nearby airlock was splattered with blood, but the source was not found.

To exit this chamber, the team had to cross the small space from the airlock hatch to the rear hatch. The door here was shut tight, it looked like a hasty welding job to keep something INSIDE. Severed fingers, cold blue, are scattered atop the metal grating just in front of the door leading INTO the Tamburro.

The ship's intercom crackles from a nearby speaker. <<"Mayday.. mayday.. this is Tamburrrrrrrrrooooo... Maaaayyyydayyyygrrrrr..">> The voice segues into a loud growl. Then repeats.

Rule number one: don't clog the entry way. Jessika Pava doesn't simply step out one step and turn left. With the barrel of her A280 raised and the stock pressed into her shoulder for stability, she uses purposeful forward steps that involve her booted feet lifting off the ground only so much as is necessary to take a step forward. It's meant to bump the toe of her boot against anything rather than letting her step on it and jeopardize a stable firing position. As best as is possible, she tries to turn the one-hundred and eighty degrees in front of her into corners. Farthest corner first, then gradually sweeping right while looking for targets. It's all done with momentum and a certain force of action meant to catch the unprepared off-guard.

All this is done in a split second of thought. "Corridor." As soon as she discovers there is no left to check, she announces to the second behind her what they're stepping into, so that the individual behind her doesn't waste more effort than is necessary. "Door front." Approaching the other side of the umbilical, Jessika feels a moment of adrenaline as she reaches the new door and stacks up to repeat the process all over again. Her barrel never leaves the door. It surges open and she once again scans the left side of the interior rather than trying to cover everything at once. When it becomes apparent that there are no hostiles in side, Jessika is succinct about it. "Clear. Short room." She steps in.

In to a disturbing sight. "I've got severed fingers here and some blood. It looks like someone's welded the hatch shut from this side."

Oozlevort slides a small vial from his wrist of powdered Toydarian fungus, called Grey Gabaki, and taps the vial into an insertion port on his rebreather. He snorts the mild hallucinogenic/CNS depressant to 'enhance' his Findsman skills; then he plunges through the hatch with his blaster held low. "Oh, the mists are telling Oozlevort many things," he mutters. His multifaceted eyes flicker around and then focus on the digits. "Some being has... lost their fingers," he says to Jessica Pava.

Zan moves in, pausing to watch whatever it is Oozlevort is doing ahead of her. She tilts her head, but moves out of the way, so the folks behind her can make it aboard. She does also make a note to look up, and check the ceiling. In ships and odd gravities, more things than should be can be clinging to the ceiling after all. She pulls out a blaster pistol and holds it ready, but is careful to not aim it at anyone.

Not having clogged the entryway, Nova sidesteps into position to clear the airlock once they've reached it; the umbilical is cold, but apparently nothing's inside or outside to threaten them. And... nothing's there, save some fingers everyone seems to be noticing. The place looks clear, both to her eyes and her sweeping carbine barrel. "Someon's cracked the ID panel here. Can't tell if it was on purpose or not, but I don't like the looks of that blood..."

He knows this dance; they've been here before. The clear, concise callouts from Jessika give him at least passing faith in the integrity of the mission. For positioning sake Iollan stays two paces behind her, just slightly to the right, covering what she isn't as they move. Like professionals, or at least people dressed the part. His blaster stays tight to his chest, left hand, ready to pop out and fire in a heartbeat.

But then, it's never simple. A cursory glance hooks over the scene, fingers and all, and the PI tamps down a tired sigh. Instead his lilt comes over the comms again, still almost conversational. <"Alright, anyone got an idea on popping this door open, step up,"> he says without glancing back. <"Let's not get side tracked; remember we're saving people, not solving mysteries. And Muri, keep the chatter down.">

A combination of nerves and anticipation of terrible things leave ghostly traces of breath on Netep's transparent facial shield. The air inside her helmet is a balmy 75 degrees, a touch cooler than her exhalations and more than a touch warmer than the ambient temperature. Gloved fingers reach up to wipe a thin film of condensation from said helmet. Severed fingers - not what most people tend to leave on their welcome mat. It doesn't take boarding party experience for Netep to assume this is a bad sign of things to come. Unlikely they simply forgot to pay rent. This is a long way from Nar.

<<Anyone else suspect there's more than static afflicting the comm system?>> In Muri's defense, it is a simple observation. Iollan has wisely chosen to put a cork in any would-be chatter before it has a chance to escape. The thoughts about unpaid rent are kept to self. As is her lunch, if only /just/ when a shifting of bodies ahead of her provides a brief window of view through to said fingers. As for ways to open the welded door, she wordlessly offers up a small cutting tool from her belt. It's probably not made to hack through heavy weld jobs or thick metal, but it's what she's got, rummaged from tool box to accompany syntherope, and extra tac light, and other explorer essentials.

Stinging air, the static message throbbing in her ears and the sight of the fingers preserved in the cold dry air make Dyannah stop dead in her tracks. She takes a step sideways with a hand to her head which reverberates with the repeated message imploring help.

"Oh, goddess, this is not..." She stops her own muttering to look around her, her eyes settling on the familiar face of Nova, "Be careful, careful. Something does not want us here." The walls of the ship seem to shift under the pressure of the violence they contain. Her glance continues around the room warily.

Heavy pistol remaining in her hands, Narsai moves up with the others. Jessika's calls and motion along with the others made it fairly clear the team had worked together with these sort of motions and movements before and Narsai herself had lead her share of boardings before but it had been with her own people. Today, she was happy to fall in with the other soldiers. As she reaches the corner with her weapon raised, her free hand taps the person in front of her before she gives a quiet 'noise of thought' of her own at the sealed hatch before her and she switches her pistol to her off-hand. <"Whatever they were trying to keep in, it's probably still in there. There were no hull breaches we saw on our approach and the atmo alarms aren't going off.">

Popping the door? She had a few tricks, but they wouldn't likely leave much of a door behind and they might need one later. She'll let someone else take this one, instead she draws her second blaster pistol into her hands to double the firepower.

Sajin keeps silent, staring a moment at the blood and severed fingers. He turns his wtist and headlamp on just incase. Ge glances to the intercom. "Spoooky..."

Nova Korell says, "Oh, goddess, this is not..." She stops her own muttering to look around her, her eyes settling on the familiar face of Nova, "Be careful, careful. Something does not want us here." The walls of the ship seem to shift under the pressure of the violence they contain. Her glance continues around the room warily."

Being the last to file into this room, Aryn is the one that triggers the airlock hatch shut behind them. The servos locking in place followed by the high pitched whine enhances the sickening feeling she feels as a result of hearing the voice over the intercom. The growl was animalistic, un-sentient, and dangerous. She's so disturbed by the vibes and feeling of this place that she feels light headed and steps to one side if only to lean on the bulkhead while the others searched.

Aryn's hand comes up to cup her forehead and in leaning her head back she finds out why the light is flickering. An ichor like substance of greyish-black stains the protective metal grate that cages the light. What of this substance that is on the light has allegedly dried, but caused enough disturbance that it makes the light flicker. Her gaze travels down toward the floor, where she sees another stain that's less obvious, but it spreads toward the other airlock hatch, the one splattered with blood.

Her stomach turns and she goes pale for a moment. Her knees feel weak. This presence, whatever it was that haunted this ship, weighed upon her mind like a mountainous looming shadow of pure evil.

Steady breaths lead to her finding the constitution to straighten, and when a call for ideas about the hatch is requested, she draws from her belt the rare hold-out pistol and passes it to Jessika. "Testor.. here.. I've set it to beam. It may be enough to cut it, and if not, /her/ solution may work too." She motions to Netep, who had offered a cutting torch.

When the hatch is opened by whatever means Jessika Pava employs, there is an almost immediate response. The doors shoot open with a loud snap. Warm air invades, and it is a sweet smell. A sweet smell of rot, decay, and infection. The air is humid.

What's revealed is a large storage area, like for cargo. Chains rattle above and limited light does not show the ceiling. There is nothing on the decking ahead of them, but with low light optics, people can see that this room is vastly large and riddled with personal effects like bags and cases. Markings on the deck indicate cargo spots.

<<"MAYDAY. MAYDAY. MAYYYYDAYYY!">> The voice haunts the intercom again. From above, the team can hear the weight bootfalls of something moving in the darkness. It isn't seen, not even with the lights they have. The darkness seems to swallow it up!

At the center of the room, the most open area and clearly seen as everyone exits, a human like body splats onto the ground from above without warning. Followed by another. Then another. Another. Another. Another. Before long, 8 have landed but did not move---- until they did. Rising up slowly, an inhuman--muffled sounding voice emerges from all of them. "Killlllllllllllllll." They turn toward the group and haphazardly approach with no regard for safety, concealment, cover, or damage. Unblinking eyes in dim light lock with our heroes, and inhuman screams follow as 5 men and 4 women close the distance to attack.

It's the cutting torch that does the trick. Jessika knows that instrument more than Doctor Cole's rare weapon, and rather than risk damaging it in some fashion or not being able to finish her work because it doesn't meet the right power specifications, she uses the latter. It takes minutes of work, but once it's finished, the door that is free to open like magic. Jessika passes the cutting torch back while taking grip of her weapon again with her right hand. It's lifted into a ready position, like she's had it in most of the time. That's when the door slides open. Jessika gags on the stench. "Huge room," she huffs out, and tries to focus on breathing only through her mouth to limit the impact of the smell assaulting her nostrils.

"CONTACT!" She yells it a moment later. "Open fire!" The last time they had been in a situation like this, she had given the order to use stun weapons. As a result, people were injured. She's not going to make that same mistake again. "Watch for them trying to grab you!" It's overwhelming to try and pick a target at this point. She simply puts the barrel in the direction of the charging individuals and squeezes the trigger. A red bolt lances forth, but rushes by everything to impact against a cargo container. It punches through it, too, given the power of the weapon.

Oozlevort shakes his bulbous insectoid head as humanoids suddenly rush the boarders. Did he get a bad batch of Grey Gabaki? The question passes and he raises his officer's pistol, shooting an approaching female twice in the torso. BRAP BRAP. The dark humid ship interior brightens with orange-red light as his blaster is discharged. "Oozlevort senses they are unfriendly! Hostile!"

Zan stares for a moment, having ignored the severed fingers. But this? Zombie like beings? This has her hackles raised, and she promptly takes aim and fires. She lets off two shots, one hitting the target, the other going wild. "Good grief, this is - what are those?" The first the young lady has spoken, but then she shuts up.

<Solving a mystery and saving any survivors might be one and the same thing,> Nova points out, as Jessika clears their way into the next room with the cutting torch. <And dying before we find the survivors is a failed mission. It can't hurt to know what we're walking into.> Dyannah seems to have some idea. Nova falls back a bit to check on her friend. <Dyannah? Can you tell what it is?>

And then things start falling from the ceiling! And coming straight for them! She backs up Zandra, firing on one of the monstrous things coming for them. Her second shot takes the thing down. <Hostile? And here I thought 'kill' was a euphemism for a pastry party! Shows what I know!>

They are gifted a couple moments to settle, gain bearing as Jessika works at the doors. Beneath his helmet, Iollan keeps a considered eyes on the team and their small surroundings. But good things pass and as the door opens he has to brace himself mentally for the next couple moments.

Open fire is called and he reacts on instincts, trying to discern targets in the gloom and wash of rushing figures all at once. Both shots go wide, but the PI stays exactly where he's standing just inside the doorway. If they bet boxed in here... well. <"Don't let's them in!"> is the only sudden and snapped interjection over comms.

Narsai's blaster pistol come to life, the heavy bolts crossing through the air of the ship's interior at the monsterous reanimated bodies. Weirdly enough, this wasn't actually the first time she'd seen this sort of thing. The galaxy was a strange place. Two of her bolts hit hard, blasting hard against one of the targets and blowing it apart as she steps forwards. Her armor was sealed and chem-treated, slightly better to weather the storm.

Sajin looks to Aryn as she gets that look on her face. He is about to ask if she is okay but the figures come forward. The Hapan raises his hefty wookiee weapon and fires with the others. Both bolts hit their tagets, sending them to a hot smoking grave. He does his best to keep up with the doctor.

Netep shuffles sideways to rest a reassuring hand on the Zeltron's arm, even if the concerned smile peering upward isn't super confident that it /will/ be all right. It's the look that says 'whats the worst that could happen?' while knocking on Death's door. Her hand redirects on cue to receive the torch once sounds of its sputtering hiss of POWER is at end. It gets twirled once, reholstered.

If only she were as competent with more lethal tools, like the one held in her dominant, left hand.

The sudden SNAP-HISS of successfully opened hatch jerks her attention off her personal effects and onto the eerie scene ahead. A cargo bay in disarray is always a sad sight, in her book. A ship's gotta know your love. The beam from her blaster's taclight addition sweeps ahead and around, casting more shadows whilst illuminating bags and boxes alike. It jerks to and fro overhead, seeking the source of those heavy footballs overhead on catwalk, but alas...it flickers and she knocks the thing against palm. "Karkin.." an oath underbreath before it rejuvenates! Just in time to witness the first body SPLAT. And the second. And the third. By the time the sixth hits the floor, Muri's instinctively gravitating toward the much larger Hapan who she's seen tested and tried in many a sticky situation before. Never did he disappoint as a living shield to cower behind.

Muri's weapon does come to bear, but she's hesitating on letting the bolts of death fly. Swift little pants of horror are visible inside her helmet and heard over comm as her lightbeam flits from ghastly face to ghoulish grimace. One, two, four...<<The hell is WRONG with them!? I'm not...>> she suddenly breaks a few feet from the pack, stumbling back swiftly from one that gets too close <<I'm not seeing our passenger!>> So there's the good news. The BAD news is, Muri isn't smooth steppin like Jess and her heel catches a coil of chain, which sends her sprawling ass over heel. *CLUNK* the armored helmet hits the floor, but her skull's saved by that horrendously huge wad of hair in there. The rest of her might not be as much, because the decomposing flesh suddenly scrambling atop her suit is surprisingly adept at finding detatchment points in her life support system with all the clawing and whatnot. There's no more chatter coming from Muri, but definitely some screams of discontent. Limbs flail, the pistol discharges blindly off in some aimless direction, and before she can gather feet beneath her, she's being dragged around by the shredded remainings of a shoulder plate.

A cascade of violence explodes with the corpses falling insentient to the floor; they are not the source but whatever animates them. It growls distracting her from her first shot.

"Goddess of mercy," Dyannah whispers. Murderous without the least regard for who they are or what brings them on ship. Its only goal to overwhelm them and perhaps add to its insentient army.

Weapons fire around her as she brings her gun to bear with no trace of mercy on her part. A man, his face hideously deformed with an eye dangling from its socket bears down on her under the flare of light from Netep. The writhing movement of his throat makes her gorge rise as she shoots. The shot does nothing to stop him he staggers and comes on at them.

The emerging danger is both unnerving and physically unsettling. The smell makes Aryn want to retch, it is so overwhelmingly sweet and disgusting. Coupled with the humidity, Aryn feels disgusting just by having the air touching some part of her skin. The presence she felt was pushed to the back of her mind as action was required. She drew her sword prior to exiting the airlock room, its blade made bare and glimmering in the dim light.

Blaster fire erupted as their group stood their ground, taking no chances against the humanoid husks that haphazardly threw themselves into harms way. Aryn remained out of the cross fire, watching in horror as their opponents simply absorb blaster bolts and continue forward. The ranks thin, but only after Aryn's ears are ringing from the blasts.

Aryn observes Netep being attacked, and for that moment tachypsychia took over her physical responses as her perception of time slowed and began to tunnel. Her screams fell on deaf ears for a moment as Aryn tried to process the chaos that ensued around her.

When at last her instinct took over, it was Dyannah's target Aryn attacked. Stepping into a graceful twist of motion, she used her momentum to spin and slice with her deadly weapon. The result removed both legs of the target. Aryn's distinct bootfalls carry her decisively closer toward Netep's struggle, and her second attack appends the very arm/hand responsible for holding and dragging Netep in the first place. "Run." Is all Aryn says, her voice weighed with terror.

One target remained, the very that was now missing one arm. It fell over onto the ground just as the intercom sounded again. <<"MAYYYDAYYY">> "Killll," the husk hissed, its voice deep. "BLAST HIM!" Aryn calls, pointing her sword as the figure rose back up.

Oozlevort's multifaceted eyes reflect the various colors of blaster bolts as they zoom around the derelict vessel's bay. One animated creature remains and the Gand wheels on it, firing wildly with his three-fingered hand. POP POP POP. Eventually it stops moving. "Are... Are any of these beings the humanoid that Oozlevort is seeking?" He won't be much of a Findsman if he brings back his target dead.

Nothing's right about the situation in front of them. The attackers move all wrong for the vast majority of humanoids, and they show a marked disregard for their own survival. But slowly they're brought down in a hail of blaster fire. Nova isn't complaining. The creatures aren't the only thing wrong with this mission!

She pauses to take a quick look around. <Anybody hurt? I have a medpac,> she offers quickly. And the bounty hunter's question is a good one. <No... none of them looks like our target.> She looks at the bodies strewn across the floor, grimacing at the carnage... which is apparently bloodless. <Anybody else noticed how these guys don't /bleed/? Any medic'd say they're dead... is that even /possible/?>

Something catches her eye. <Wait! One's dripping /something/!> she says, moving to check more closely on the legless body. She kneels, then shakes her head. <Nothing. I saw something drip, but there's nothing down there for it to land on. I thought I saw something move...>

It all comes as a bit of chaos. But then, who here can claim surprise. Luckily they come prepped and loaded enough that everything is over in a scattered heartbeat, six seconds of ultraviolence and the team is clear. Mostly. Muri is on the ground somehow and there's little he can do about that, her attacker being taken out in short order by the trigger-happy Gand. But they brought a doctor - Iollan don't pause for long.

Something something many hands. Conversation buds as people starts peering at corpses, putting together puzzle pieces. <"Eyes up, folks, there's certainly more of those around. Not our targets though,"> comes crisply to the team. Without hesitation he has already began striding into the hold beyond, weapon held at chest level once more, scanning this way and that as he moves towards what caught his eye on the other side of the space.

Approaching the terminal let's him discern that it is in fact working. Right hand comes up to start tapping buttons, attempting to see when he can glean from that at least.

She can smell the decay NOW. Muri's armored flightsuit is in tatters, no longer protective against the unforgiving vacuum or frigid or toxic atmo. So maybe it's the smell filtering in that's responsible for the sudden retch that answers Aryn, spattering the inside of Muri's helmet though, and not her savior's shoes. But, if the dark, bloody content of that spew is any indicator, there's probably something more goin on in there than simple nausea. "Ahk...gurk" she gurgle spews a little more after making an attempt to roll over onto hands - make that hand, cuz her left arm is hanging there, useless - and not drown in the metallic taste welling up from the punctured things within. Her movements are about on par with a semi-squashed roach, while making the roach look good. The little life support light on shoulder is flickering an angry red as precious O2 leaks all over the place, along with some bodily fluids. This day sucks.

Enough blind crawling around relocates her DL-18 and some fumbling snaps loose the seal on her helmet, enabling her to tear it off in desperate attempts to SEE. See and breathe. Breathe in the stench. The stench of self. The stench of that hand, the stench of...

"Ggg..guys." Muri doesn't sound like Muri anymore. She's a little croaky. Even hungover Muri sounds better than this Muri. Her face is wrenched into the same look of perma-terror worn by their undead welcoming committee. Her effort to push up to a mangled knee collapses and its there, cheek propped on floor, nose to carpal with the severed hand, that she watches some of its rotten blood slither away. "Sssss'ya gotta sssee thisssh," she gurgle-wheezes, dilated pupils stare unblinkingly into the darkness where the grayish goo wormed away to.

Dyannah reaches out to grab Netep who staggers next to her. She strains and lowers her to the ground as gently as her strength allows.

"Shhh. Shhh," she croons. "Hold on, got you," she tells her as she pulls her back from the pile of bodies. The zeltron is blind to the rest of the room though her senses probe outward open to all of the crew in her need to find the source of the menace. She is as unsure as the Gand as to who drives the horrors that attacked them. Around her she feels crisp competence and curiosity tinged with distaste for the carnage of decimated dead. Pain radiates from Netep.

Things are dead...deader. At least for the moment. After weaving away from a swipe intended for her, the creature is cut down by her allies and quiet returns to the space. Holstering the blaster in her off-hand, Narsai frowns a moment and grip her remaining weapon with both hands while glancing over her shoulder at the injured Muri. <"Check her over,"> she calls to the doctor, <"the rest of us can cover and search till we know she's good to move.">

Then she spots it, the creature before her feat starting to move. <"Karabast..."> she breathes softly before reaching to ignite her flamethrower over the creature she was standing above and roast it down. <"Stay dead!">

From the sounds of things? Netep wasn't doing too great.

Sajin stops a moment as he moves alomg with the others. He notices something. Leaning down he picks up a severed hand holding something. He flops it around casually until a holi projector falls out. He tosses the hand over his shoulder and retrieves the projector. Moving to netep, he intends to help her. "Here figure this thing out." He hands her the projector.

The terminal that Iollan finds controls the set of doors that lead into the massive passenger cabin. Touching the terminal opens the hatch with a hiss, and utter darkness is revealed in the next room. At least, initially. Lights flicker in unison, and when they came to life, he saw the figures of some 12 passengers rising up from the various rows of seats.

Darkness.

The next flash, they were all facing him.

Darkness

The next flash, they were in the aisles moving toward the opened doors.

The flames that stuck to the skin of the dead one near Narsai, resulted in a response from the others. All at once, they screamed and began to flail. "AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH"

The flames eat away the flesh, and the innards that should have spilled when the muscles burned back revealed only a pus of grey and black ooze that immediately spread and bubbled. Within moments of catching the spray of flames, all that was left was scraps of tattered and burned clothing and a black stain. The other bodies began to rise up again.

Aryn sets her sword aside to join those who have come to Netep's aid. It takes her a moment to assess the damage. Biofoam is used to seal her chest, and she takes a moment to reset a dislocated shoulder. The kneecap is encased in a splint, but Muri will have to be carried. "She's not going to go far like this." Aryn reveals, her work limited in what she can accomplish in the field. "Sajin, you may have to carry her." Aryn is unaware of the rising bodies around her, or what Iollan has witnessed up ahead.

The purifying flame might not smell too good, but after what she's just seen, Nova would be fine with burning them all away. It'd definitely make IDing them later tough, though, and that might go a long way towards solving the mystery of just WHAT THE HELL IS HAPPENING HERE! Seriously, dead people attacking them? Does that actually happen?

Apparently it does, because now there's screaming from the /dead people/, and they're starting to get up again! It's like being in a bad holofilm set out in Wild Space!

Resolving to stop part of this before it gets started, the blonde soldier shifts her grip on her carbine, jamming the barrel against the head of the stiff she's kneeling next to and turning its head into bad mess hall SOS, minus the shingle. <STAY DOWN, DAMMIT!!!>

Something flits from the body... something that looks like a streak of gray-black pus. Rather like what she saw earlier, in fact. And it's heading for another member of the team! <Iollan! Look out!> she yells at the man... and then realizes what's got his attention. <The door! Someone shut the door!>

Well, that worked pretty well, but it was the shrieks of the ones in the next room that had Narsai blinking. It didn't take a genius to figure out that their minds must be linked...or at the very least they were scared of fire! Twisting around, the Mandalore swept her weapon over the remaining corpses in the room till they were all noticiably burning from chemical fire. Now they just need to keep more from coming -in-

Oh. /Oh./ Iollan takes a step back on instinct, then another, some primal sort of switch in his brain toggling on at the sudden and terrifying influx of noise and smells, all aimed directly at him. All alone, way out on the floor here. Two shots pops off before he even really registers he's firing, the bolts disappearing into the mass of enemies. There's a shout behind him and in a quick succession of movement the PI is checking his 6' looking forward, stepping back, trying to decide on the protocol for a horde of undead-

<"We've got a lot more company!"> snaps out. There's a sharpness to his voice now, lacking all easy lilting from before, and in a moment he curses something vague, garbled over the comms. <"Get that flamethrower out here! Move!"> is all he says before shifting stance, pivoting momentum to take him back towards the door to attempt and hit the terminal again, shutting it down.

Dyannah's gonna need new clothes when this is over. Just bill it to Muri's desk. "I've had ss-uhum," a frothy red hiccup dribbles her own form of good onto Dy's sleeve as she obediently lays all curled up in arms there. There are worse ways to die. "ssum bad dates, buthhhissun takes cake." Hah. Hahahha. It was meant to be a joke, was it funny? Is she smiling? She's trying. "Havven been thrown 'round like that in /looooong/ time."

But then Sajin's there, interrupting her cuddle time and presenting her with something neato that suddenly makes her more sad her little crushed bod is bleeding out. "Ussit?" she coughs, whimpers because coughs hurt, but feebly takes the projector as requested in her right hand. She raises it to face - too close - and back again. "Think 'e broke mah glasses.." she laments, even though they're not even on her face. Aw.

"Hey what--" FZZZZT! Biofoam. "Woah wai--" *POP* *GIRLY SQUEAMISH SQUAWK* Reset shoulder. Aaaaaand the kneecap splinting goes without protest. She's just discovered that her left hand is capable of more than just flopping around now and partners it with her right in tinkering with the bauble of techie intrigue. Want to shut Muri up? Give her a toy. And shut her up it does! Her messy face is suddenly bathed in a wash of blue light, illuminating the new wave of fear emoting when she belatedly realizes what's happening beyond the projection.

Dodging black ooze is hardly conducive to good aim. Dyannah fires twice one arm still around Netep, the shots going through the bodies with absolutely no effect. "No, no, no," she repeats mechanically as she makes room for the doctor to work on Netep. Gently laying her supine on the deck, a funny little smile quirks her lips at being compared to a what? A bad date?

The link between the creatures becomes apparent as they react to each others wounds. The stench is almost as overwhelming as the need to destroy this menace that want them to become part of it. An eerie light of flickering flame illuminates the area - a long lost scene from hell brought to vivid life. The bonfire of the dead grows as those around her set them on fire. Sajin nods to Aryn as he looks over Netep, "I'll take care of her. You all go on ahead. We'll bring up the rear." The Hapan stays at Netep's side as she fiddles with the thing he gave her and is tended to. He looks up as the others move forward, "Sounds like there is more of them." He moves to be infront of where Netep is resting, watching and waiting for anything to break the line the others have formed. If Netep needed help moving, he'd of course help.

Flames a-burning, Narsai moves towards the open door and the screaming Iollan. Monsters here, horrors all over the place. Fire is a happy solution. "Fall back, get behind me!" the Mandalorian woman yells over the roar of her weapon. Sealed armor was a blessing. Of course, she was more focused on the monsters than the loose 'blob' running free.

Aryn looks up to see the height of the flames only to make out the liquid ooze covered ceiling above. She could not make out the trickle of pus like ooze making its way down the chains all around them, but she felt overwhelmed by the feeling of dread, despair, and evil. Stumbling away from Muri, Aryn held her head with one hand and drew the sword back up off the ground, its blade scraping as she lazily dragged it behind her.

The projector that Muri held came to life then, its image following behind a line of people that were boarding a landed Tamburro on Umgul. "I'm so glad.. we're finally getting off this waste.." A young woman said, looking into the source of recording. She walks under a corridor and groans. "You'd think they'd fix these leaky corridors. Oil is dripping everywhere." She shows the recorder her hand. The man operating it says here, offering a napkin, and when she goes to wipe it, the oil is gone. "Huh.. weird."-- The recording cuts.

When it comes back on, it's the man's face we see as he falls over and seizes in front of the camera. His face strains, his eyes roll up a bit, then they simply move separately of each other like something cut the optic nerves. He lets out a final breath as grey matter emerges from his nose, but its drawn back in by the ooze and disappears. Something moves beneath the flesh of his face, then the recording idles out.

<<"This is Search and Rescue, Coruscanti Authority. We've located some escape pods, and we're collecting them now, over.">> The intercom spouts. The haunted voice follows, yelling mayday over and over.

Aryn falls to her knee and cries in anguish. "We.. need to run.. We cannot stay.. GET BACK TO THE SHIP!"

<Iollan, get back here with us! We're /leaving/!> Nova says, the old ring of NCO command authority coming into her voice, firing two shots through the door he's close to to cover his withdrawal. Hopefully he'll take it. The light showing what's behind the door, though... <Oh, frell... I'd hurry,> she adds, almost deadpan. She holds her own position to cover the others' withdrawal. <Get the techie girl out. Carry her if you have to, but we are /going now/.>

Nobody can see it, not him or the team or a higher power themselves, but nothing moves on the handsome cast of his face as panic wells up. Neutral, indelible calm settles at Iollan smacks the terminal once more, twice for good measure, and gets... nothing. Not a thing. There's a voice on the comms though, not his own, and a barked order does wonders for the sense of self preservation.

Luckily though, he is a runner. The pivot is swift and long legs take him in the opposite direction with all due haste. A couple pot shots flick off behind him, missing widely, but he barely has time to register that. In a moment the PI is sliding into the entrance compartment, pressing in a rough inhale as he stops only long enough to make sure everyone is ready to exit.

Hearing the intercom again, and Aryn's words... then the eruption of gun fire and hurried bootfalls, Sajin lets his bowcaster drop and hand from it's single point strap. "Alright Netep, time to go." Reguardless of what the woman is doing, he scoups her up and hefts her over his shoulder, starting back the way they had came from. "You're my tail gunner, alright?" He keeps moving. "Please tell me we got like... some torps on this boat? We can't leave this thing out here with that black stuff..."

Aryn's magical foam is holding Muri's insides together well enough that it's plugged some unecessary holes. She's a bit blanched of color maybe, some of that desert-dweller tan turned to ash, but she's alive. "Sajin." Also...questionably mobile. "Sajin." That chain which was once her enemy becomes her friend and she grabs hold with right hand, bracing her good leg's heel into the floor, then tuuuugs herself forward off her rump. They're frenemies now, Muri and the chain.

"SAJIN!" Because her former mutterings were honestly stupid quiet. No need to whisper when the frightful undead already know you're here. "LOOK" At the recording, that is, for while most others are in a fight for all their lives and Aryn is suffering from what Muri assumes to be an ill-timed migraine, the half-alive explorer has her eyes glued to the morbidly fascinating sequence playing out from the palm of her hand. Said fascination is short lived, because Aryn suddenly gives the orders to abandon all hope and RUN!

Well, that's just speaking Muri's language. And she looks up.

Her right arm comes up along with her stare and without another thought about it THIS time, she fires. It's not an impressive display of marksmanship by normal standards, but when it sends a searing *splut* through the shoulder of a charging Sullustan bearing down on Iollan's trot, it sure as shit is, having come from Muri, the co--the pacifist. A gasp of wonder escapes her lips and she crooks her mouth into a funny smile. The recording, however, is looping through on repeat, gray matter being sucked back into the comatose camera guy's skull again...and again....and again....except now it's muffled by pock--nope, her belt's gone now, must've come off in the lost wrestling match. Frowning, Netep gingerly stuffs it inside a tear in her suit, under left armpit. That'll do poorly, but there's no time to come up with alternatives, because HEY!

She's just grown a few inches, swept up in Sajin's arms and o'er the -- oh no. This is terribly reminiscent of the hailmary run that Siha put her through. Over shoulder. Smacked repeatedly on the head by the scabbard. "DON'T BREAK MY ASS" she panic-grumps and it's all she can do to keep a grip on the blaster and hand on her armpit. Tail gunner? Sure.

Dyannah, known for her grace, stands erect leaving Netep in Sajin's capable arms, and promptly trips over a severed arm. She stumbles and recovers as she turns to fire, the blue light reveals more of the animated dead coming through the door opened by Iollan. What could only be a string of Zeltron curses blisters the air at what she sees and the man she fired on lurches on oblivious to the new hole opened up on him.

It's repetitive, she knows but imperative, "Run!"

"Get back to the ship!" Narsai's yell comes over the coms before she reaches to grip her weapon and blast away. She needed the others away, looking away for what comes next, but secrets fell second to zombie monsters escaping to the galaxy right?

"I'm right behind you, then we'll blast this to dust!"

Sajin is staring towards where the others are, keeping watch ove Netep and Dya. He turns his head over his shoulder as Netep calls for him. "WHAT?" He whisper shouts, turning his head to look at the recordings. "Oh shavit... that's...." He turns his head back suddenly, hearing the intercom again and Aryn's words... then the eruption of gun fire and hurried bootfalls, Sajin lets his bowcaster drop and hand from it's single point strap. "Alright Netep, time to go." Reguardless of what the woman is doing, he scoups her up and hefts her over his shoulder, starting back the way they had came from. "Come on!" To Dya, then to Netep. "You're my tail gunner, alright?" He keeps moving. "Please tell me we got like... some torps on this boat? We can't leave this thing out here with that black stuff..." He reaches down and turns his fanny pack around with his free hand, reaching into it and pulling out a Cryoban grenade. "Just in case... this might slow it down." He looks to Netep's butt which is closer to his helmeted face while she is over his shoulder. "Your ass is fine... heh. Get it..."

The team was falling back. Aryn held the spot near the door they came through. Sword brought up to glimmer in the flickering lights of flame and blaster bolt. When the entities had made it past the doorway, they began to run. Chaos erupted. Aryn, holding her ground to prevent any from crossing the threshold to get to the airlock, is confronted with a child. Set ablaze by Narsai's chemical, Aryn's eyes widen as the child lunges toward her.

Aryn drags her sword reluctantly up in muscle memory, at rigid counter attack negating the child's lunge. Aryn cut diagonally across their torso in smooth fashion, twisting to follow through with another slice right across the back of their neck. She did not watch the aftermath of this attack; she could not. "Run!"

Everyone made it back to the airlock room, but the door would not shut. The way to their shuttlecraft was easily opened, and the distance closed to their ship. It took a moment for the pilot to open the hatch, and by that time, the entities were entering the Tamburro side of the umbilical.

Getting into the shuttle required coordination, and the pilot stepped behind them to close the door, but something exploded in front of him. He blocked the door way, being peppered with the black ooze. He turned to face the others who witnessed as this substance moved over his torso and his face, entering his body through the nose, ears, and mouth. He screamed and Aryn shoved him out the door before sealing it.

"Someone pilot this bloody thing and get us the /hell/ out of here!" Aryn commanded, emotionally overwhelmed and falling to one side.-- The recording Muri had broke from its loop, the camera being picked up by a child and studied by unblinking eyes. An inhuman smile followed as the camera panned from the child's face to the nearby porthole, where a Coruscanti rescue craft was using a tractor beam to bring in escape pods. When it had them on board, the ship shot into hyperspace and the camera dropped. An airy laugh followed before the image cut completely.

Our heroes managed to get away, and someone came back to nuke the Tamburro, but when they arrived.. it was gone.

Oozlevort had come back earlier to check the trajectory of this 'lost and found' vessel. He sits down at the pilot seat gingerly, angling the ship away!

OUCHKRIFFWATCHITOW...

All the complaints and more, as Sajin thundered along with scared/aggro Muri on shoulder. Not until she's plopped into the poor pilot's chair does she quit her bitching and rambling which was - briefly - punctuated by a shriek when the pilot fell prey to the goo.

But it's okay...it's all right. They're here now. Inside...clean....maybe. Netep's too afraid to look at herself, so focuses on flipping switches, pulling levers, and detaching the shuttle from the doomed freighter. Once they're underway, she sags into seat. Skin shivers, not much else moves. It's lights out for Muri. Y'all are gonna have to either slap her awake when we exit from hyper, or replace her with the next able body!

Oozlevort had come back earlier to check the trajectory of this 'lost and found' vessel. He sits down at the pilot seat gingerly, angling the ship away! He serves as Netep Muri's co-pilot once she is in the pilot seat. "What a disgusting ship. We must be blowing it up, yes?" he asks as the ship blasts off.