Log:The Shadowport: Movin' Right Along Pt 1
A group 0f shadowportians depart on the Majestic Pandemonium for Canto Bight....
OOC Date: September 2, 2021
Location: Majestic Pandemonium in space.
Participants: Eriu Jynx as GM and herself, Netep Muri, B'haav Adasta, Khalim
The Majestic is a large enough and glorious ship (if Eriu might say so) that offer accomodations for all. Its been newly cleaned, prepped and put into the best of conditions for the joy ride to Canto Bight. Time to get away from the pitfalls of Nar Shaddaa to a popular resort world all expenses paid by House Jynell. Eriu is dressed in a casual one shouldered draped dress with her auburn hair swept over to one side so that a comb of gems can be seen over her left ear.
The ship is already underway as the music plays and drinks are being served by the butler as it works the room as it should. She grasps up her own bubbly and forgoes the normal whiskey for something a bit more festive.
"To Canto Bight!" She lifts up her glass to toast as the butler hurries about to make sure...the three present besides the Duchess herself can receive a drink. Who knows where the others are.
Netep Muri
"Nah, the whiskey, love," Muri wards off the bubbly-wielding butler before it can waste the 'good' stuff on her. As for the perpetual wanderer, she's climbed into a skin befitting upscale gambling and resorting! It's one of three 'nice' ensembles she has to her name.
OUTFIT: A white, matte pantsuit that's slinky on top, voluminous on bottom. A single, ruffled strap anchors the top half in place - curving up from left breast to wind once around her throat and button with an opaline stone. Halter and necklace in one, functional piece. It hugs her slim frame through to the hips then flares over both legs. Sandaled feet are all but disappeared. A sheer, white capelet shrugs over shoulder and fastens under arms. Periwinkle, gray, lilac feathers lend ostentaciously soft texture and flutter to the piece.
HAIR: Blue. Multiple shades of blue, artfully blended together and showcased with an especially voluminous 'do' today. The sides are drawn back tightly, leaving a center crest to poof upward till it all comes together in the back with a sparkly clip. Behind the clip, the curls are bound together in a twist and tuck and further secure by a hairnet attached to that clip. Must be industrial strength. The same feathers that adorn her capelet are interspersed along either side of the crest. A few choice beads are wired into place here and there, from her usual assortment.
MAKEUP: The usual khol around the eyes is reduced to liner and lashes only. Lids and beyond are smudged with purpley, sheer shimmer. A little skintone sparkle highlights cheekbones and periwinkle paints lips. The usual assortment of metal studs on left ear and chin. Metal bangles and bands are arranged choosily on either forearm, moreso on left. A few raw cut stone rings adorn a thumb and some fingers.
B'haav Adasta
B'haav Adaste, one of the three therein mentioned, sits in an acceleration chair with a glass of iced tea recommended by the butler when his... Refreshment limitations were disclosed. There was a twist of citrus garnishing the martini glass, and an aromatic leaf settled in the bottom beneath a small sphere of ice. His attire is his second best suit - not that the company of Shadowport does not call for his best, but one must be able to step things up should the occasion call for it. The suit in question is a vantablack silk suit with a Hapan double-breast, ornate gold trim and embroidery tastefully applied, and a black bowler with a silver feather in its emerald band. There are several other options in the small trunk he'd brought aboard when he'd embarked on the Majestic.
As his own ships are much more workaday, the Majestic feels like a luxury liner to him as he raises his glass. When the Duchess raises her glass in a toast, B'haav is quick to follow, his right hand up with non-alcoholic libation. "To House Jynell." As the still-advisor, it's only befitting that he show an appreciation to the House that had offered him such a role. His left hand rests on the top of the ornate silver cane, which the Balosar is never without.
Khalim
Khalim, sitting at what may have once been a circular dejarik board - and in fact may still be beneath all that fancy table dressing - waits patiently for his own glass of bubbly to be delivered.
Dressed for the occasion, a poplin black dress shirt is accented by a finely cut vest in a rich satin-like grey. A sash of similar color cuts across his chest, the mirror of one once 'lost' to Yan and replaced rather than ever requested back. His jacket, a Mirialan cut piece in a rich silken black, is draped over the chair he sits upon. He is perhaps as casual as his current mode of dress will allow, excepting perhaps the choice to remove his shoes.
It's true, this Mirialan does clean up well.
In hand, while waiting for that fluted glass, a bottle of ale - and not just any ale, but one that manages somehow to give off a lustrous, pearl iridescent sheen even through glass. He'd already managed to find, and lightly plunder, Eriu's cooling unit.
And as that celebratory glass is delivered, the butler droid extending it to be retrieve by pear-hued fingers, it's raised in return. "To Canto Bight." A pause, alongside a quirked grin. "And company that's always just good enough." Was there a hint of a slur? Perhaps that light plunder had been more along the lines of a raid.
The toast accepted, Eriu winks at B'haav when he toasts her house. "Oh B'haaaaav," Eriu remarks with a full on grin that lights up her features with those perfect teeth. "Muri, I like colors, always can count on you to add a bit of hue to a room." She is eyeing that hair as her own naturally colored has yet to be touched for such choices.
She sips from her drink and glances towards the Butler. "Bring out the finger foods.." she makes motions with a trill of her digits at it before it quickly hurries off to acquiesce to her request. Its two little feet carrying it rather swiftly in an attempt to perform the action before he might be called upon again.
She studies Khalim's drink and narrows her gaze. "Mmmmm do not like what is provided? Had to go digging around?" Amusement curls her lips once more, painted as they are in a rich red. She starts to step closer to Khalim to consider what he is drinking and what will need to be replaced - the Butler usually keeping track of what is looted from the extensive collection when there is a sudden jolt. Heels click soundly on the durasteel floor when there is a whining shudder that moves through the ship and throws the occupants rudely and rather suddenly about, the Duchess managing to move with the momentum into graceful steps that have her dress streaming behind her, fluttering in her violent wake.
A droid having come out with another platter finds itself suddenly slamming into a wall and tossing food about in all random directions.
Eriu ends her fateful tumble in a seat next to B'haav, or maybe where he had been. "What in the moons of Hapan is happening?!" There is suddenly a drone as the power flickers and goes out before the back up whirs to life and kicks back in. Only momentary shocking darkness before they are restored to sight - especially her. A red light starts to flash. Red is a lovely color but never after your ship lurches into normal space before it should.
"D'ya need anything more'n that?" Muri's voice, which usually carries a naturally slurred lilt to it so one never can be too sure about her sobriety, hails from the viscinity of B'haav and his acceleration chair. "Good enough!" she echoes and flashes EJ a wink. And then, something in the engine room goes tits up and inertia threatens to put everyone aboard tits up, too. Or heels-over or head-down, or whichever way the bodies stagger.
For Muri, the suddeness of this happening seems to come as natural as a leaf stirred by the wind. When the darkness is broken by that first flash of red, her position in the room has changed - drastically - among her peers. The space gypsy is reclined cross-ways over Eriu's lap, having landed there after a surprisingly (even for herself) controlled rescue, recovery, and reolocation of one tumbling Balosar by his underarm. The end result? A tall stack of Shadowportians atop their hostess.
"..."
Muri takes a moment to breathe, soak in the WARNING WARNING echoes of red, then:
EJ says the thing she always used to say, and it's only fitting that B'haav's cheeks flush red like they always do when his name is said in that fashion by that Hapan. Old reflexes are rarely forgotten. He does his best to cover the color with a long and slow sip of his tea, but it is unlikely to fool anyone in the room. The Balosar is rarely the smoothest in the room when it comes to subtlety; he's more the 'Hey, look right here and nowhere else' guy. Steel-grey eyes flick around at the mention of finger foods, and the glass is lowered to rest on his knee as his arm lowers to the arm of the chair against which he's huddled.
When the lights go out and a shudder leads to upheaval, even the acceleration chair isn't enough to keep B'haav upright. The drink is splashed on the front of the vantablack suit - in the dark of a briefly-unpowered ship, so... Did it really happen? Nobody saw anything - as the glass is flung back behind him by sudden momentum. The Balosar likely would have followed but for the grab of a Lorrdian hand. When the lights come back on, steel-grey eyes are quick to take in the scene in red. Him, sprawled atop one Netep Muri, who is in a state of recline across Eriu Jynx's lap. "OH!" B'haav puts his hand on the first solid place he can find and pushes himself up and back, still managing to tip back and over the arm of the chair, landing tailbone first on the other side with a 'THUD'.
"Is..." The voice from the floor by the chair is a little strained. "Is everyone alright?"
Khalim looks from Duchess to drink, and back. Seeing that narrowed gaze, and that curl of lips that to him seems perhaps more predatory than amused, he raises the glass for her inspection. "I can put it back if you'd like." Held at an angle, light from an overhead fixture takes that iridescent sheen and gives it an interesting, oily aspect. It also reveals the third or so that's missing. "It's still mostly there." The grin that follows reveals the absurdity, and Khalim seems about to say more, perhaps dig himself a deeper hole - intentionally or otherwise - when the ship suffers that violent break from hyperspace.
It's a particularly violent translation, even by his experience, and Khalim has known several navicomp-issued emergency translations. The life of a deep space scout, at least once upon a time. Sitting as he is, the Mirialan is spared the ignominy of being dashed upon the floor.
The flash of that red light brings his attention around. "Well that's never a good sign," he says, half a mutter that transitions into an emphasized "Well, kriff" upon looking down to see a trail-splash of sliced moonglow fruit across his shirt, with a few bite-sized pieces sitting in his lap. He plucks first one up, then another, popping them into his mouth. "Still good." The droid that has lost its cargo has been sent careening into the bulkhead just to his left, protesting in binary as it swivels back around to offer a beep-wharbled apology to the Mirialan.
That glass of mystery ale is still safely held aloft, though the flute of bubbly is nowhere to be found. Likely smashed against the far bulkhead after a graceful soar through the air.
Khalim does relinquish the bottle, though, placing it atop the probably-a-dejarik-table, somehow still covered by linen before turning to regard that stack of Shadowportians, before the Balosar tumbles back onto his behind. A chuckle escapes, and a little shake of the head. "A little quick on the draw aren't you all?" B'haav's question prompts him to actually look down, in a quick visual once-over. "Think so. Shirt's been fed, so that's one less thing to worry about."
There is a belated oof when the other two land atop her and Eriu feels the air rush free of her lungs. Blinking a few times, she grunts, strains and feels some weight leave her when B'haav manages to get himself off Muri. "Oh yes, go ahead and put it back now..." she rumbles out about the bottle to Khalim before she clears her throat. "Muri, I really thought you would be lighter...sorry to say but you are not, not when yhou are on my bladder and squishing my thigh." She tries to help untangle the blue haired beauty from the flaring draped portion of her dress so it does not tear.
"I bet its that bloody off market hyper that I had installed. Should have paid more." SHe waits for the moment she can get up and finally does, wincing some as she slips on some of the food and drink on th floor. The heels do her no good causing her to slam back down upon the seat and slip to the floor to smack her tailbone. She winces some and then kicks off the heels before finally rising.
"I need a status report! Anyone good with a spanner?" She would roll up her sleeves bt she has none and is quickly looking about. "Anyone got any ideas?" She heads for the captain's console and begins to draw up info with the reserve power.
"I never should have fired the crew. Damn Yan and his want for privacy."
"Good enough!" Muri amusedly quips around a hehehehe to answer B'haav's floor-based note of concern. Yeah, Khalim might not have been alone in rummaging about the Majestic larder. It's the only explanation for why her recent 'fresher' break took more than thirty seconds. Did anyone think she'd really be checking her makeup and hair?
When her upper lip dips into considerably less whiskey than HAD been in the glass, Muri frowns. "I've heard as much," Muri grunts back about her 'object weighs more than appears' superpower. She graciously leaves EJ to her gown fixing and then gravity fixing while already unfastening the feathery little capelet from shoulder. "Run a diagnostic, tell us what hurts, and I'll head down. How stocked is your bay? Yan do away with tools, too, or just make sure it's only his hairy knuckles what touch'em?"
She's a few steps in one direction, then another. "I uh...I've never been to your engine bay."
B'haav takes a moment to inhale and exhale, trying to ignore the throbbing of his coccyx as he straightens up to a sitting position. After shaking his head, he looks about, finding the case nestled at the base of the nearest section of hull. The Balosar pushes up on his palms and gets his feet under him, quickly moving to retrieve the cane as his mouth starts doing that dreadful talking thing it seems to always do. "I'm really sorry about that, Duchess. And Muri. I... I really was not trying to be forward, it was just... Momentu-" B'haav, realizing how he sounds, shuts up and snatches up the cane that markes him House Jynell's advisor. "If you think there was something underhanded about that hyper engine, I'm happy to take the issue back to that vendor. If they tried to rip you off, they'll rue the day they did it on my trade route, Eriu Jynx." The Balosar starts unbuttoning the jacket of his suit, not nearly as cool as discarding a cape.
"I've been through the Majestic a time or two, I'll show you the way, Muri." Finally having de-eyed the remaining button, he tosses the jacket lightly over the back of a chair while looking around. "Bav! Bav, we're going to check on the engines, I'd love your expertise." B'haav's not bad, but the small, unpainted astromech that rolls out from behind the bar is much, much better at repairs. "I'll head directly down there." He offers Khalim an apologetic look for the shirt.
"There must be some seltzer in the bar, assuming it's still whole. That... Will hopefully do the trick?" With an awkward smile, B'haav is off, weaving through a few corridors to come up in the room that would be an engineer's nest - had the Majestic a dedicated engineer.
There, he finds a sparking hyper engine, clearly out of alignment and still very powered. The thing is much larger than he remembered. Or maybe it was the casing required to house it. He reaches for the nearest comm panel. <"The hyper's out of alignment. A lot of sparks, so it's getting enough power to prove a little hazardous. Thing is huge... You have a loader who could do the lifting?">
Khalim seems about to step away from his previous perch, when Eriu's quip reaches out and touches his sensibilities. He stops, reclaims that bottle, and tips it up in a glug-glug-glug that ceases only when the last drip has dropped. The bottle is then carefully replaced atop the circular table. "See, I made you a vase. How thoughtful."
A rise and fall of chest, a resigned sigh, is followed by a curious tilt of head. As if listening. And then a step. And another. He peers, across the compartment, for a long moment, then sets out at a quick pace. Reaching a panel, he regards it with careful eyes.
There, just for a moment, a flash. "Tools would be good, yes. There's something going on behind this panel. Do you hear that?" The tell-tale bzzzzzzz of an arc can be heard every now and again, not yet frequent but coming closer together. "Power surge here? We need to get this panel open."
"Lets not get too ahead of ourselves, B'haav but I appreciate the sentiments." Erui's attention is on the display as Muri comes up beside her. The 'vase' comment gets a momentary dry look before she smirks and says, "Wonder what other tricks you have up your sleeves...I bet a great deal you do not always share with everyone."
She is quick to pull up the diagnostics for Muri to show a failed connection from the hyper drive as it seems to have come out of alignment in flight. "I am going to stay here and watch for further problems as you all handle everything...." Her voice trails off when Khalim says there is trouble behind a panel. "My ship..." there is a soft lamentation to her tone as she glances from Muri and to B'haav. "Good luck to you both." You better do something is what she really means.
From beneath the main console seat Eriu pulls out a small bag of tools. "There is another larger set of tools in the storage room. Right off the engine room." She is then lugging the smaller tool pack over to Khalim. "Where is Rale?" She tilts her head and gazes at the panel. "Wait, I hear it."
Spitting wiring behind bulkhead? Angry hyperdrive? Muri's hands are being pulled in two directions, but she opts to triage in this moment and snaps a finger at Khalim "Pop it open and have a looksee! I uh..." there's a moment of frantic looking around the lounge space, then Muri finds her little handbag and fishes out her comlink. "Yup! In the event intercom goes down, I've got this! If you need me." Not that she's 'got this' as a fix-all togetherness, but she's literally got 'this' comlink.
All hotshot pilots can tinker around a spaceship, right? RIGHT?
Muri hurries in the direction of where B'haav and Bav(jr) went. When she gets that far, she bustles on by a little bit further to a storage area there and emerges with a heftily kitted tool bet and a box that she kicks over. The belt's dropped, then she disappears back into the room for forty-six seconds. It's a long time, but twenty-eight of those forty-six is spent soul searching. The quiet, resigned utterance of "skrag" is audible. Because when she comes back out for the final time, it's in...a suit. A jumpsuit. A jumpsuit that's a /touch/ too long of sleeve and leg but way too wide. Yeah.
"Kay. Here's the deal." Muri buckles that bulky belt around her middle, picking and choosing what she takes with or ditches here. One hand hand has to keep it held up to hips. "I'm gonna climb into that drive panel over there," she points to one of the many sections of bulkhead that are removable for system-repair access "And cut power to the hyper. Should prevent any back surges from frying the core and kriffin us all, yeah? You figure out how the hell we're gonna heave-ho that lunk back into position once it's clear."
Muri tromp-clomps her way over (in sandals, OSHA don't look) and clank-clatters her way into the tight little workspace. Only six second pass before a sucking-in of breath holds what's left of her soul for the halfway expected electrocution, but seems she gets all her grounding points in a row before pulling the switch.
<<"Hyper power's cut.">>
B'haav watches Muri moving in to set to work. He nods, and Bav waves his datalink arm in a salute as he whistles. B'haav has done some of his own maintenance but has always preferred to hire professionals for such things. In fact, something like this is well beyond what he feels comfortable tackling. He looks down to B'haav and lowers to a knee. "You know what you're doing, Bav?" Trweeeeeeoo-B'rrrrrrap.
'Sure thing, it's pretty easy. It's a big part, but with the right angle, sure!'
"Alright. We're all counting on you. I believe in you, Bav." The little BB unit, young, full of ideals and puffed up on a fresh dose of optimism from his friend B'haav, rolls forward to get a better scan of things with his sensor array. As the colorful one successfully slips the power out of the equation, the BB unit weooooooooreeep's in approval. 'Nice one!'
Humming to himself on his wiring, Bav rolls forward, ready to start finding the right position to shift the oversized and suped-up hyperdrive back into alignment. While his friend and 'owner' steps up to keep an eye and assist as needed, the BB rolls forward, not seeing an unbypassed but severed wire sparking on the ground. There's a loud ZZZZZZZZZEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAP, a WHOAEAOOOOOOOOOO from the BB unit, and then it collapses as power surges through the ship.
B'haav calls out something in the shock - not intended - of what just happened, but his voice is cut off as his heels lift and his first lunging step forward sends him floating toward the engine compartment, where he bumps ungracefully into the casing. "Bav is down! I..." He tries to push off toward the droid. "I don't know how bad!"
Khalim glances back at Eriu's smirked remark, an inscrutable look passing across that pear-hued face. Truly unreadable, though not inexpressive. "They're not very good tricks if they're easy to suss out, now are they." Is that a hint of a smirk of his own? Could be, though it dies quickly as he returns his attention to the bit of kit Eriu had just lugged over.
Retrieving an S-thread spinner, he begins loosening and then hand-removing a series of bolts. That bzzzzzzzzz of an increasingly angry arc, just behind the panel, brings out a look of some concern. "You know, tricks are only as good as the sleeve they're pulled from." He yanks down on the last bolt, that spinner rotating freely as resistance is negated. The panel is technically free, and Khalim grips it. "Don't touch anything, obviously." He pulls.
FLASH!
A blinding, zapping, electrical discharging arc jumps between two conduit relays. PATCHED conduit relays that clearly say 'Zhu Yan was here, and he shouldn't have been'. How much power surges from one to the other? A gigajoule? It's connected, somehow, to the hyperdrive's main power relay, which means LOTS.
And it's blinding. Truly blinding, even to Khalim, which means Eriu's world must be a shock of white.
"Kriff!" Khalim reflexively drops the panel, only to have it just... sit... in front o him. Suspended in space. And that's when he realizes the situation has just gone from bad to, well, extra bad. For a moment the Mirialan's body appear to be in a light spin into that newly exposed, still-arcing bay. One hand is thrust defensively out and up, catching the panel edge. His other reaches, instinctively, for Eriu. Just in case. Floating into that arcing hellscape would be rather unhealthy.
Just as Khalim manages to tell her what she planned on exactly doing, not touching anything, Eriu can not give a smart ass retort of 'and break a nail?'. Instead she is blinded by a brilliant flash with the power surge that draws a cry of pain from her. Light is a giving source to the Hapan but not in this moment. She had been looking right over his shoulder and finds herself unable to see a thing now that the lights of dimmed and she has spots seered into her vision.
But her stumble back turns into an endless fall and there is a desperate cry from her as she never hits the ground. Blind and floating without any idea of which way is up it is with luck that Khalim manages to get a hold of dress and then she by proxy his hand. "Are you okay?" She asks, gasping. "What is going on?" Her eyes are wide, but they dart about as if expecting to see something and its very apparent she can see nothing.
Eriu skims the panel with her hip and there is a klaxon that begins to fill the void. "Warning. Emergency power is expending swiftly. An hour to complete loss of all systems." It is on repeat.
"At least that upgrade is working." Eriu mutters.
<<"WHAT">> Increduality translates through any amount of comm static. You can almost hear the eyeroll in Muri's voice, even if her finger releases the button before she ARRRGGHS and thumps around in that cramped, overheated tangle of conduit. One sandal accidentally slips free and goes drifting out the hatch to the tune of "SONOFAFLARP" What's a flarp? Who knows.
"Dammit." In case Muri's sentiments on present situation wasn't clear enough. Prior to the power-pulling, she's yanked a small taclight from the belt under the assumption that it'd be reliable - elsewise WHY was it in the TOOL CHEST - but um, it isn't. The light sputters, flicks, and goes dead. For two seconds. BACK ON!
Muri heeeeeeeeaves a breath ooooout then back in, reeling in her restraint, and exhales a second, gentler time. Flailing in null-G was NOT a wise move, much less when in such close viscinity to critical power couplings and a labyrinth of things to get tangled in that would prove lethal later, IF power was ever restored. A third in and out, then Muri gingerly grips the frame of that hatch and eases herself out, backward, with failing flashlight in teeth. Her central crest of already poofy blue hair has become that much more so, like some confectionary treat. Good thing the rest of it's been braided back. The jumpsuit balloons around her limbs as she moves, tucking up her legs and pushing off for a sideways glide toward that troublesome - now fried - wire. And droid.
"Sorry about Bav," she murmurs while bumping on by B'haav and latching onto the problem wire with a rubber-gripped clamp. It's her grabbygrabby hand, in the moment. Just in case. "Gonna follow this, see what's what." And she does, climbing hand-over-hand along it the short distance to its point of origin. "Mm." An ambiguous grunt. "Not much that'd really...I dunno. I'll section this bit out, just in case, but there's a bigger problem at play. Somewheres." And so there's a tense minute of wire cutting and splicing to be hand while tethered to strips of conduit and deck plate by a hair clip and .... metal twistie. S'what was on hand, anyway. Somehow, Muri's hair doesn't float freely all that much more. Good product!
Spinning through the air, with little to no control, B'haav follows the BB as best he can. He sees the wire, and the scorch mark, and steel-grey eyes follow the wire back to a generator. B'haav touches down, or more just bumps into the floor beside the scorch mark from which the BB unit had begun to lift slightly off the floor. There is pain written across the Balosar's face as hands gently take up the droid's chassis and guide it back to the floor. The BB unit is given a quick visual inspection, but there is no sign of outer damage, beyond its still form. Whatever it is, it's not something that B'haav can actually fix. Not now. Not here at any rate.
Muri's apology pulls him out of the reverie that had even ignored the warning klaxon cutting through the ship. "He'll be alright," B'haav says, in a tone so sure that even he believes it. He tucks the BB unit to the side, in a small cupboard with a door open. "I'll see what I can do." He turns and follows the wire Muri's working on back to the generator he had spotted. "I think it's this." Holding onto the wall with a white-knuckle grip, B'haav looks over it. "This needs to be bypassed, I think. It's... New parts. I'm going to look for them. Botching a bypass might sap the back-up power."
Khalim's vision has begun to recover, more quickly than Eriu's, though his pupils remain - for the moment - severely constricted. The compartment is seen as if through a gauzy yet slowly dissipating haze. That royal hand still held, his other continues to grip the exposed panel's edge. A foot is extended down, to stall any momentum that might swing him, or them both, back into that arcing danger zone.
"I'm okay. Are you okay? I take it you asking means yes." That haze begins truly receding, revealing a compartment mostly the same as it appeared before, save a handful of bits floating awkwardly just above their surfaces here and there, some caused by the movement of air from a nearby recycler grill. A number of bolts spin freely, moving about, probably kicked by Khalim as he was blinded. But most importantly, that arcing danger zone is now simply a quiet power distribution panel. No power whatsoever.
"Grav is usually part of life support. I think something shorted. Really badly. That or power was cut, though batteries usually pick up." He frowns, hmmmmming softly to himself. "Not always. I don't know about this ship. And there seem to have been a fair number of... modifications. So who knows."
Turning his head, just enough to see Eriu floating aside and slightly behind him, her lack of sight is apparent. "It'll come back," he says, trying to be at least somewhat reassuring. "Your vision." A blast couch just to her left, perhaps three meters distant, becomes her new destination as he gently propels her towards it. Slowly. Just slowly enough. He lets go. "You're floating towards the couch. Grab it when you feel it. There are lap belts to hold on to, until your vision clears."
WHAT will happen to our intrepid group of Shadowportians! Stay tuned for part two of this epic tale. DUN DUN DUN!
