Starship Graveyard
With the immediate medical emergencies tended to, the crew were set to begin their journey to the west, seeking to pick up any remaining survivors along the way. Without much in the way of supplies, they would have to pull through whatever they could find among the surrounding wreckage - provided they could find a ship in shape good enough to even warrant searching. Tara began walking, sending a Pixy unit to scout ahead as they lead the winding group of survivors through their newfound situation. The land was harsh and jagged, a mix of seismic activity and the hundreds of crashes leaving the road ahead a rough one at its most kindest. Initially, OSC-01 contemplated leading with a bright spotlight emanating from one eye, but the dim sunlight and varied materials made it a hindrance more than a help. On top of that, it would be a dead giveaway to the crews location. For now, it was night vision and low power lights.
Rhea's attempts at drawing forth the fountain of her power was futile at best. From time to time she could coalesce enough energy to form a withering spark, which would bounce away mere moments after being summoned. Curiously, the spark would always bounce in the same direction. Jutting off to the southeast. Or was it the northeast? She never got too familiar with orienteering. Occasionally, however, the spark would sling off somewhere else. Generally, it was in the direction of either one of the drivers or the Overseer ahead, whenever she got too close. At large the lack of ambient echyllis could be hardly noticed by the rest of the crew. There was, however, a slight feeling of almost relief, or perhaps longing. As if a certain feeling of being watched had been lifted way for the moment. It was quickly returned however, whenever something settled into the ground beneath the crew's feet.
Tara raised her head slightly as Romulus' question rang out from behind. The Overseer was working their way through the mess or wreckage, looking for the path of least resistance. As unsanitary as it was, the metal-laden water that cut narrow streams through the mess of rocks proved helpful. Tara initially said nothing, falling silent for a minute before looking back at him with one subdued eye. "I didn't trust Dahlia's judgement call on that entire mission. Something seemed amiss, and I needed something I could fall back on should things have gone awry." The Overseers eye narrowed. "But I don't need to explain that feeling to you, do I?"
Romulus carefully looked around the scrap-laden environment, searching for any sign of whatever shot the Downrider down. His mental state was surprisingly calm, considering even the people who had gotten the better of him were also trapped in a sense now. “Perhaps you don’t. One mistake doesn’t beget another though, you knew it was broken. Non-functional. Why did you take the risk?”
Tara said nothing for a moment, quietly chewing their word before speaking once more. “Had you bothered to ask before checking under a skirt, I could have told you where the other half was. I kept it in the event of emergencies.” And for control. The Overseer rolled her head slightly. “Though unstable, that thing would have enough power to… do what’s necessary.”
Romulus was smiling, a big, wide and menacing smile. This was rich. Whatever she was implying was very familiar, very personal. Romulus caught up quicker to the overseer’s intentions. “You know, if you needed to do that you shouldn’t have interfered in the first place. You were interfering in a situation you knew nothing about.” Romulus slotted out the Zone key, inserted the Inferno key and put the blue one back on his belt. “Still, after all it’s calling the kettle black.” As he moved the keys around, Romulus could notice a discerning but small stream of color behind them, sparking away before being holstered once more.
Tara shook her head, pulling up on a piece of fallen debris that had blocked the path with a long creak. “I wasn’t referring to your pet science project” she said, flipping the piece gently against the hull it came from so as to not cause too much noise, “I was referring to-” me. The Overseer froze for a moment, their motors seizing to cause the debris to fall the last few degrees with a clang that panged off the metal valley the crew tread through. A second later they continued in a moment of panic, sliding against the wall as the noise echoed away. The disturbance didn’t seem to bring about any activity, save for the scuttling of bugs and a few small reptilian creatures away from the giants. At least there was life on this planet - however diminutive it was. The Overseer continued treading carefully, letting their head hang with a shake as if they were completely unaware of the conversation they aborted.
---
The wayward crew traveled on and on, up and down, inside and out, finding only more vast expanses of ships ahead of them. It was enough to contemplate if they had begun walking in circles, despite their navigator and the sun leading them on. Over hills. through valleys, around cliffs, through narrow trenches of rusted metal sure to cut and prod at anyone who dare pass. They were surrounded with the gutted, looted carcasses of ships, each with their own story to tell. Different materials, different layouts, different origins. Hundreds upon hundreds of stories brought to a short and violent end. Many of the wrecks had been left for quite some time, leaving their contents to decay to near uselessness. There was plenty of raw material, but without proper tools or a workshop there was not much that could be done with it.
The crew had been traversing the mess for a steady few hours.
There was still no sign of the wayward ISS Downrider. A long walk not helped with the sudden silence of the Overseer, reserving themselves to small comments. Trudging through the uphill climb of a massive ship split in half, the crew pushed through a mess of strewn wire, debris, and dreary overgrowth. Eventually, the crew found themselves on the apex of a rocky spire which had been eroded by the impact. Overlooking the massive crash site was a singular, broad tree with dense and rock-hard roots, the leaves of which glistened a brilliant orange and drifted in the light wind. Gently, orange petals fell and dimmed as they sunk into the damp depths surrounding the spire. The massive freighter was split clean in two during the impact, it's two twisted sides wrapping into the ground beneath the spire as if it were a knife thrust through the chest. The massive fracture left a gaping hole above the crew, from with dull moonlight shone down. From here, they had a good vantage point of their surroundings, but also enough concealment to be considered... vaguely safe. The dying pillar of smoke from the crash was close, likely just an hour or two away now.
Tara prepared to continue unfazed by the distance, but was stopped by the... general limitations of the human body. The crew had been walking steadily for hours with no clean water, food, heat, or shelter. There was going to need to be a stop soon. At least the storm had subsided. Tara looked around and assessed the property. "Right. Here's our best chance to rest before we get there. I haven't seen... anyone, but there's enough evidence of looting to warrant being on our guard."
Spire
5 Hours Post-Landing
The crashed freighter split across the rocky spire seemed to be the best bet for finding supplies. The crash was certainly not recent, but in a place like this something must have fallen through the cracks. Or perhaps from the sky. To the southern end of the spire, a familiar-looking cargo container was lodged amidst cabled a few meters off the ground from the withered struts above. It was certainly from the ISS Downider, or another Vigali ship. All around the basin of the spire, dirty water had pooled into a shallow moat. To drink it, the water would need purification in one way or another.
In an experiment with bouncing a spark of echyllis around, Rhea found it to be attracted to something behind the crew, back down the eastern end and into a room down the tilted hall they climbed out of. Of course, the members of the crew not occupied could always relieve the Pixy units of scouting ahead west. Looking around, the Overseer settled with positioning themselves against the glowing tree, keeping watch over the area with an extended glaive planted into the grounds- respectful of the roots. There was something about her gaze that seemed a tad melancholic. They historically weren't one to dwell, but talking was always an option.
With the immediate medical emergencies tended to, the crew were set to begin their journey to the west, seeking to pick up any remaining survivors along the way. Without much in the way of supplies, they would have to pull through whatever they could find among the surrounding wreckage - provided they could find a ship in shape good enough to even warrant searching. Tara began walking, sending a Pixy unit to scout ahead as they lead the winding group of survivors through their newfound situation. The land was harsh and jagged, a mix of seismic activity and the hundreds of crashes leaving the road ahead a rough one at its most kindest. Initially, OSC-01 contemplated leading with a bright spotlight emanating from one eye, but the dim sunlight and varied materials made it a hindrance more than a help. On top of that, it would be a dead giveaway to the crews location. For now, it was night vision and low power lights.
Rhea's attempts at drawing forth the fountain of her power was futile at best. From time to time she could coalesce enough energy to form a withering spark, which would bounce away mere moments after being summoned. Curiously, the spark would always bounce in the same direction. Jutting off to the southeast. Or was it the northeast? She never got too familiar with orienteering. Occasionally, however, the spark would sling off somewhere else. Generally, it was in the direction of either one of the drivers or the Overseer ahead, whenever she got too close. At large the lack of ambient echyllis could be hardly noticed by the rest of the crew. There was, however, a slight feeling of almost relief, or perhaps longing. As if a certain feeling of being watched had been lifted way for the moment. It was quickly returned however, whenever something settled into the ground beneath the crew's feet.
Tara raised her head slightly as Romulus' question rang out from behind. The Overseer was working their way through the mess or wreckage, looking for the path of least resistance. As unsanitary as it was, the metal-laden water that cut narrow streams through the mess of rocks proved helpful. Tara initially said nothing, falling silent for a minute before looking back at him with one subdued eye. "I didn't trust Dahlia's judgement call on that entire mission. Something seemed amiss, and I needed something I could fall back on should things have gone awry." The Overseers eye narrowed. "But I don't need to explain that feeling to you, do I?"
Romulus carefully looked around the scrap-laden environment, searching for any sign of whatever shot the Downrider down. His mental state was surprisingly calm, considering even the people who had gotten the better of him were also trapped in a sense now. “Perhaps you don’t. One mistake doesn’t beget another though, you knew it was broken. Non-functional. Why did you take the risk?”
Tara said nothing for a moment, quietly chewing their word before speaking once more. “Had you bothered to ask before checking under a skirt, I could have told you where the other half was. I kept it in the event of emergencies.” And for control. The Overseer rolled her head slightly. “Though unstable, that thing would have enough power to… do what’s necessary.”
Romulus was smiling, a big, wide and menacing smile. This was rich. Whatever she was implying was very familiar, very personal. Romulus caught up quicker to the overseer’s intentions. “You know, if you needed to do that you shouldn’t have interfered in the first place. You were interfering in a situation you knew nothing about.” Romulus slotted out the Zone key, inserted the Inferno key and put the blue one back on his belt. “Still, after all it’s calling the kettle black.” As he moved the keys around, Romulus could notice a discerning but small stream of color behind them, sparking away before being holstered once more.
Tara shook her head, pulling up on a piece of fallen debris that had blocked the path with a long creak. “I wasn’t referring to your pet science project” she said, flipping the piece gently against the hull it came from so as to not cause too much noise, “I was referring to-” me. The Overseer froze for a moment, their motors seizing to cause the debris to fall the last few degrees with a clang that panged off the metal valley the crew tread through. A second later they continued in a moment of panic, sliding against the wall as the noise echoed away. The disturbance didn’t seem to bring about any activity, save for the scuttling of bugs and a few small reptilian creatures away from the giants. At least there was life on this planet - however diminutive it was. The Overseer continued treading carefully, letting their head hang with a shake as if they were completely unaware of the conversation they aborted.
---
The wayward crew traveled on and on, up and down, inside and out, finding only more vast expanses of ships ahead of them. It was enough to contemplate if they had begun walking in circles, despite their navigator and the sun leading them on. Over hills. through valleys, around cliffs, through narrow trenches of rusted metal sure to cut and prod at anyone who dare pass. They were surrounded with the gutted, looted carcasses of ships, each with their own story to tell. Different materials, different layouts, different origins. Hundreds upon hundreds of stories brought to a short and violent end. Many of the wrecks had been left for quite some time, leaving their contents to decay to near uselessness. There was plenty of raw material, but without proper tools or a workshop there was not much that could be done with it.
The crew had been traversing the mess for a steady few hours.
There was still no sign of the wayward ISS Downrider. A long walk not helped with the sudden silence of the Overseer, reserving themselves to small comments. Trudging through the uphill climb of a massive ship split in half, the crew pushed through a mess of strewn wire, debris, and dreary overgrowth. Eventually, the crew found themselves on the apex of a rocky spire which had been eroded by the impact. Overlooking the massive crash site was a singular, broad tree with dense and rock-hard roots, the leaves of which glistened a brilliant orange and drifted in the light wind. Gently, orange petals fell and dimmed as they sunk into the damp depths surrounding the spire. The massive freighter was split clean in two during the impact, it's two twisted sides wrapping into the ground beneath the spire as if it were a knife thrust through the chest. The massive fracture left a gaping hole above the crew, from with dull moonlight shone down. From here, they had a good vantage point of their surroundings, but also enough concealment to be considered... vaguely safe. The dying pillar of smoke from the crash was close, likely just an hour or two away now.
Tara prepared to continue unfazed by the distance, but was stopped by the... general limitations of the human body. The crew had been walking steadily for hours with no clean water, food, heat, or shelter. There was going to need to be a stop soon. At least the storm had subsided. Tara looked around and assessed the property. "Right. Here's our best chance to rest before we get there. I haven't seen... anyone, but there's enough evidence of looting to warrant being on our guard."
Spire
5 Hours Post-Landing
The crashed freighter split across the rocky spire seemed to be the best bet for finding supplies. The crash was certainly not recent, but in a place like this something must have fallen through the cracks. Or perhaps from the sky. To the southern end of the spire, a familiar-looking cargo container was lodged amidst cabled a few meters off the ground from the withered struts above. It was certainly from the ISS Downider, or another Vigali ship. All around the basin of the spire, dirty water had pooled into a shallow moat. To drink it, the water would need purification in one way or another.
In an experiment with bouncing a spark of echyllis around, Rhea found it to be attracted to something behind the crew, back down the eastern end and into a room down the tilted hall they climbed out of. Of course, the members of the crew not occupied could always relieve the Pixy units of scouting ahead west. Looking around, the Overseer settled with positioning themselves against the glowing tree, keeping watch over the area with an extended glaive planted into the grounds- respectful of the roots. There was something about her gaze that seemed a tad melancholic. They historically weren't one to dwell, but talking was always an option.