[Episode Four] Lockdown

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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.
 
Spire

Dragons didn't pant. If they could, everyone would know that Glasawyr was absolutely not enjoying this trek. The human body was designed by evolution to walk long distances. The dragon body was not. Glas was big and slow, and his wings were like a rock-filled backpack on his hunched torso. He was meant to fly any distance farther than three miles. Sure, he could just transform, but that was usually uncomfortable. Like wearing tight clothing. It was manageable at first. But after an hour or so it began grating on his senses.

Finally, however, Tara stopped. Taking a moment, Glas streched and scanned his surroundings.

thirmsty...

That was all the warning Glas gave before stomping over to the pool and sticking his snout nearly all the way in.

SchlorpSchlorpSchlorpSchlorpSch-

In his defense, he'd been eating uncooked wild game and drinking untreated water for a few centuries now, even in urban areas during his time roaming civilization. He'd eaten rats in city alleys, sipped from puddles formed by rain gutters. So far, no illness. He'd repeated the process on multiple different planets as well, assaulting his immune system with just about every form of bacteria or virus in the known galaxy.

Needless to say, he was probably fine. Probably.
 
Spire

The rather ragged Tom fumbled and flopped on the ground, sighing with relief. "Man... This's the farthest I've walked in forever!"

He flopped on is back, pointing at the surrounding carcasses of space-faring vessels around him. "The idea that these massive ships were once something MORE... I dunno guys, that's kinda cool, too. Any opportunity to adventure should be one to celebrate, no matter what made it come to be."

Tom opened his canteen, finding that it had no water. "Mmmmm... Bother, that's not gonna do."

He gets up, and moves over to the pool. He sets his massive duffel bag down, grabs some supplies and various eccentric inventions, setting them down on the ground.

With a crack of his neck, and his knuckles, Tom proceeded to scribble down on his blueprints on a impromptu desk made of scrap. After drawing the alchemical symbols, he pulled a peculiar pot close to him. It was a pot with multiple tubes sticking out the sides, with a handful of LED lights and a clamp.

"Well... Whatever you say..." Tom mumbled to no one. He rolled up the blueprint, stuffing it in a tube, and sealed it shut. The artificer then scooped the dirty water from Glas's drinking pond, pouring them into the pot.

The pot whirred and hissed, consuming the blueprint, and working its main gimmick: water purification.

"Awesome! Still got nineteen blueprints left." Tom cupped his hands, trying to get the attention to the others. "HEY GUYS! I GOT GOOD WATER GOING OVER HERE! COME GET A DRINK IF YOU'RE FEELING THIRSTY!"

Tom refills his canteen, and takes sips.
 
Although it took much experimentation, and the effect... wasn't impressive currently, for an hour or so of effort it was impressive, she felt. If nothing else, in low echyllis environments, it could be used as a sensor for other echyllis users and devices, probably! And it could probably be scaled up if needed, in other locations. She wondered if she could do the oppisite... but now wasn't the time to try that sort of thing- it would probably take weeks to just have the echyllis boost down pat.

She should probably also make another Tablet while she was at it, last time it saved her life... around halfway through, she starts trying to conjure up a flat, mirror like tablet once again, and begin compressing it in an effort to regain that life saving ability in the event of an emergancy... she had several hours to do it, but with the low echyllis environment, and the current task of charging up Tara... and maybe the driver crew, it was hard.

She did wonder just how far she could take it.. but for now, she simply stick next to Tara, and kept... very slowly, charging her up. She'd assist the others... but, their devices could be turned off. Tara could not be.

She took position next to her, and contemplated her position in life. People could only be excessively sad, or angry, for so long at any given time without breaks, and she was currently taking to her self imposed job as an echyllis charging station like fire to oil.

She did, however, let her, and the rest of the crew know that there was... something echyllisy towards the.... somewhere else. Whatever direction that was, in the journey. She wasn't sure how many understood. She wasn't sure if she understood what it meant herself.

"Ah, um, I think there's something... over there, past.. the... my god what is wrong with you..." she trailed off in muted horror as the dragon went to town on the dirty pond water. She then shook her head and pointed at the east-ish... "Yeah, over there... Oh also, water here please!" After some consideration, she attempted to form, at least a very temporary, container from echyllis. She needed a drink as much as any of them... food she could go without, at least for a little while longer.

She would wait untill she got a proper glass of water... or two or three, before she would brave the way they'd come in, and take a peak through that strange room in the back, maybe letting off another spark to guide her when she was in the room.

She was sure the others could handle doing actually important things, like scouting ahead, or retrieving supplies from the cargo container in the sky without having it drop and alert everyone... and thing within a half a dozen kilometers where they were.
 
Spire

"...no good, not even good enough for a toy... complete junk..." The collection-of-appliances-with-a-fake-medical-degree muttered, squatting as she shifted through random scraps she had gathered with a single hand. Anything that she thought could be usable had either rusted to shit or was a complete joke of machinery. Actually, she could say the entirety of this was a sick joke to her, so much machinery available that she couldn't even use.

Friday gave a tired sigh, throwing the useless servo over her shoulder. As it hit the rotted ground, it bounced one, two, three times into a pile of other discarded electronics, all of which didn't pass her quality inspection. Most of which, to a normal person, seemed perfectly fine, though she knew better. Much better.

Sat beside her, covered in gradually settling dust, was the beginnings of a possible replacement arm for her comrade. It was mostly just a frame with wires, and a few larger, more primary servos for the elbow and such. But, she had absolutely zero luck finding anything small or good enough to use for the hands, although most of what she found was rather sub-par anyhow.

"F... Full of shit! That's what this junk heap is!" She yelled, laughing as she swung out a leg, sending the pile flying. Frustrated, she began stomping the scattered pile of scraps, flattening them into the dirt. "Not a single thing! Absolutely useless! I might as well just give him a hook already, fuck!"

Suddenly, she paused, looking at the incomplete arm. Looking back down, at another pile of small, but much too big motors, a smile crept upon her previously angered face. Maybe, just maybe, that will do.

Sitting back down, she pulled the limb into her lap, and began to work on her creation once again. But this time, she was giggling, maybe in a manner that was a little too sinister.
 
Spire

Tara stood still as stone, facing west in their determination without falter. Having not the need for sustenance and rest, the robot seemed to be fixed to the position, not yielding to anything but the idle patrol of their unrestrained head from left to right. Much time passed before their motionless attention was broken by a drifting leaf, hung over an eye by a stem caught in the seam of their face-plate. The Overseer gently pulled the leaf away, observing the dimly glowing foliage for a moment before letting it drift. Here, in the middle of hostile territory with what number of unknown dangers, was a strangely twisted slice of beauty. Certainly poisonous, she should probably say, but beautiful. Tara too let herself drift, resting against the side of the tree with a lean but not abandoning their post.

Wordlessly, the Overseer gazed at the roots more, as if expectant for something to come of them. The call had no response.

Spire - East


Refreshed with relatively clean water, Rhea felt the spark come back to her just a touch easier. The bouncing purple light found its way eastward, backtracking along the crws path not far before veering into a room like water finding the easiest path.

The insides of the dark room were cramped, with a good half of the storage area being crushed into the dirt. Still, there was enough space between the sunken ground and the pipes above for the delinquent to find herself at the end of an open storage container, flipped and crushed in an impact that happened... what could seem like lifetimes ago to her. To an adult professional, probably a few years. There wasn't much salvagable in the container, and certainly no food, but a silver handle jutting from the dirt was a certain curiosity. Tugging on it unearthed a dingy metal case, one not much larger than a briefcase but certainly well padded. The force of the case being released from its prison was enough to send Rhea toppling backwards, the case popping half open in the process.

The case was made of metal, well worn and starting to show signs of decay. The side of the silver case was adorned with a curious hexagonal design, with lettering just barely legible coming clear as she wiped away dirt.

AMPERIA

The contents of the case had not been subject to the same wear as the outside, a black padded interior holding a few items of note. One of them was a funny looking device, something arm mounted not unlike what all those weirdos in the crew carry around. It was... different, however. Bulkier, older. Worn. It looked like it could have been through hell and back. A few matching accessories were in the case, which drew the echyllis spark, strongly. Still, it would take more than her own ability to restore any semblance of functionality to the device. Inside the case was also a formal looking letter, with one of those wax stamps you'd always hear about sealing it shut. Rhea knew very little about what she held, and knew there were more justifiable crew members to appraise this find... buuuut....

[RRRIP]

She could peek just a little on the hike back up.

This message is entirely confidential on behalf of the executive justice of the Amperia Institute.

Dr. Midori,

By the time this letter reaches you, I am sure you will be well aware of the situation that has unfolded at the Institute Central. Approximately 18 hours ago, subject designation "Sigma" was pronounced dead and lost in an accident involving our deep-realm immersion tests. I was not present for the test being conducted, so exactly how this came to be is entirely hearsay. However, many signs point to the accident being an act of malice by the present Dr. Aurum. I cannot verify the story, but I do not have a good feeling about it at all. No matter the cause, the result is a dark day for science, and I believe may be a turning point for the Institute as whole.

All equipment attached to Sigma was considered lost in the accident, with no trace of them appearing since the accident. However, in a moment of remorse I found myself in the afflicted chamber. To my surprise, I found an almost complete replica of the protobracer used in the experiment, possibly the one used itself. I don't know if the grounds crew were simply blind, if this is a planted find, or something- harder to explain. It's drenched in the anomalous particulate Substrate Conduit-E12 we've been testing with (some old stories thrown our way once referred to a like material as 'echyllis', but I find that name quite frankly can't be scientifically correct). This is to be expected given our tests, but there was presence of some kind of... contradictory particulate. It's something we've observed before in rare circumstances, one such source vector being the resonator key some colleagues have childishly referred to as Nightmare. However. the volume of E-12 radiation and it's counterpoint, E-13 being carried in this vessel is staggering to say to the least. I believe we may have a real chance of observing E-13 in a stable environment for once, long enough to make real progress.

I was not one to believe in the paranormal, but the longer I've stayed in this field the more I've started to believe there are things steering us greater than we can comprehend. I swear, I could hear their voice when I picked up this driver. Not a memory, but something alive. Something burning. I nearly broke the device in a moment of fear. I cannot work this out alone, but I cannot trust my surroundings any longer. I hate to say you were right, this institution is one step away from hell and I think it'll come crashing down around us. Between Urane's bickering and Aurums apparent blood-lust, I don't think it's safe to stay here- I can't trust this find or this message to internal affairs. That's why I am sending this to you through external means on paper for safekeeping. It's slow, but no one will look twice as a case labeled enzymes these days. I am planning on making my leave here as quickly and as quietly as possible, before some psychopath tears this place to the ground with me still in it. Contained in this case is the aforementioned "resurfaced" protobrace, as well as the associated equipment. I do not remember assigning the slotted key to this protobrace, nor do I recognize it in the test manifests... or at all.

I hope I'll be able to join you, where we can discuss this matter further with cleaner hands. If you don't hear from me, assume the worst.

For the glory of science,

Dr. Weaver
E-12 Research Division
Amperia Institute

Well that was a load of nothing of importance to the child. Perhaps another of the group could glean more information from it, such as Dr. Aurum.


Spire - South

As the group rested and refreshed, they eventually came across the remains of the cargo container that once sat in the ISS Downrider's Cargo Bay. The box wasa deep green color, strung up precariously by a mess of cables and metal. Dumped from the crash were numerous cans of generic soup, with white labels that had been dirtied in the waters below. Several cans had been busted open, soiling their contents, but there were at least a few salvageable cans.

Resting inside the box itself was the torn palette the cans once sat upon. Behind it however were some of the finds of the Kerolyne Defile, thrown about carelessly. Two sets of riot armor, as well as the Arcadian electronics hauled from the site could be seen hung up in the container. Getting to them without sending the entire thing crashing would take some finesse or strategy.


Somewhere, far out in the distance, there was a light. It was an easily dismissable light, being nothing but a dim flicker far away from the freighter.
 
Spire

The inventor glanced over at the robot, minding her own business as she served as the group's sentinel. Tom looked into his flask, recalling the times spent on the Downrider, and... Well...

Tom got up from the floor of his room, sick to his stomach and head pounding with pain. He knows all too well of the sounds of a ship's swan song. He knows all too well he doesn't have much time.

He throws a bunch of junk into his duffel bag, swung it over his shoulder, and made a break for it. Tom went as fast as he could, despite his illness and the fact the Downrider is in a absolute tizzy. Tom practically leaped, and...

... They burnt up in scrap and flame. Not him or anyone else in the crew, no, but the ship. The Downrider. Apparently some kind of drone got the ship good.

Despite Juryrig's upgrades, those upgrades didn't factor in those things. If anything, the upgrades were just an expression of Juryrig's freedom and talent, not out of a sincere feeling to upgrade the ship.

Seeing no reason to stick by the water purifier, Tom sat back up, moved himself to the tree that Tara sat under, and sat next to the robot.

"Ah!" Was the noise Tom made as he sat his haunches on the twisted roots. He took a sip from his flask, and smacked his lips.

"Hey; are you okay?" Tom asked Tara.
 
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Spire

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, in which the water level of the dirty grotto noticeably fell by an inch, Glasawyr stood back up with a happy grumbling noise. It hadn't been the best water ever, but it surely hadn't been the worst.

Naturally, Glasawyr's eyes fell to the cans of soup next. Without hesitation he waded into the pool and started scooping up as many as he could.

Why? Because free soup.

The cubs- cub... would need sustenance, as would himself and the rest of the pack, and he hadn't sensed much wild game in this twisted metal hellscape. The soup, while not necessarily the most filling meal, was convenient in that it couldn't attempt to flee.

Seeing chunky beef stew, Glas flipped off the can lid with his thumb and tossed it back like a shot of liquor. The dragon licked his chops. Not bad. It needed pepper.

Glasawyr carried his loot from the pond and set it down in a pile by everyone else.

Everyone must take as much as they can. We may not find a bounty such as this for many moons, and you are all terrible hunters.

Ever tactful, the beast took his leave and curled up on the ground once more, staring into the distance, scanning for threats, and holding on to a vague glimmer of hope that Dahlia and Artemis were alive and on their way back. That's when he noticed the flickering. Odd. Out of curiosity, he focused in on the distant beacon with his keen eyes, formed by evolution to track prey from high in the sky.
 
Spire - South

"What did you find there?" Marie asked, as she came around to Glas. Thankfully just walking was something Marie had gotten very used to. If this was two or three years ago, she'd have been wheezing from exhaustion. Now she handled it quite well.

"...soup. And...oh, that's the loot haul we got from the Defile. We need those." Active defenses meant not just anti-orbital defenses. With enough technology, one could teleport a squad of commandos onto the surface -- or as she'd seen from the research, enough relics.

Or magic, she guessed. Magic would do as well.

And active defenses meant roaming robots, most likely. Glas would be fine fighting them. The keys were low on charge, but they were each good for a few engagements against a few security mechas, or even military mechas, before running out of juice.

Everyone besides these people were dead to any medium to heavy defenses.

The problem was getting the cargo bay. If they spent a Key on this, that was less charge for future engagements. If they didn't, they'd have to spend both valuable time and look at far less viable odds at getting the armor.

Wait, but they had alchemy. And nanites.

"Hey, Friday! And Tom! Need some help!"
 
Spire

"Eh? What?" The doctor looked around. She definitely knew someone had called out to her, but she had been a little engrossed in her work. That is, until she noticed Marie trying to get her and Tom's attention. "Well... always for another time, I suppose! Vargas can wait a little longer yet!" Placing the mostly-finished arm in a wrap, she used a strap she'd found and slung it over her shoulder.

"One moment, one moment! I'll be there!" Friday wondered why she was being asked for. There didn't seem to be any injuries about, aside from the one Vargas had received. So why exactly was she needed?

She daintily stomped over with a clank in her step. "What's up, Marie? Cut yourself on some metal, stepped on a stray nail?" She gave a little smile. Maybe, just maybe, hoping that there was something she could do. Some reason why she had been called away from her very important work.

"Or, do you need drugs? Chemicals? Something cut, drilled, or severed? ...please?"

Friday was getting a little desperate, and that was understating it. She wasn't used to dealing without any kind of work for this long, and attempting to make a replacement arm out of LITERAL SCRAP METAL wasn't helping her sanity in the slightest.

But, she was ready to help, in whatever way she can.
 
Rhea hummed and walked along back to the main procession, holding a... a letter? the hell she'd get that? Against the light. She wasn't dumb- this sounded ALOT like it was the kind of stuff that people would say if they were researching Echyllis. She took a look around... and further unimpressed by the crew, ignored most of them in favor of Romulus... seeing as Marie was busy.

"Hey! Does a Mr... Midori? Or Aurum ring a bell?" She looks down and frowns at the letter. Was she saying that right? Then she shrugged. She chose to ignorre the soup.. at least for now. She'd wait untill somone made something to warm it up. She wasn't homless any... well... She wasn't without allies. She's pretty sure having your ship ghet shot down qualify as homlessness.

In the meanwhile, she camped next to the overseer again, and continued with her self imposed task of crafting a tablet of hardened Echyllis. She was pretty sure the ability to see herself die before it happened would be prety useful... even if the only thing that it would let her do is be pissed as hell when she sees them all die from orbital bombardment from missile drones, or something.
 
Spire

"Aurum is my last name, in fact. Just what the hell did you find out there?" Romulus walked towards Rhea calm but skeptical at the names Rhea was mentioning. If anything, it's about the fact that If there in fact was Amperian tech here... Who could be residing on this planet? Surely this wasn't some sort of research station, they aren't armed this heavily. However, he knew one such group who resided on planets with weapons like this.

Not good.

His impatience was getting to him.

"What kind of energy are we reading out here?"
 
Spire

Tara remained planted at her post atop the spire, remaining there soundless and still amidst the gnarled tree roots. While they were clearly intent on protecting the crew, they seemed less apt to obtaining sustenance. The thought, let alone the need for nourishment was yet another hollowed out memory. The Overseer's head yawed flatly as Tom spoke up, taking but a brief second to come back with a snappy response. "I don't think anything here qualifies as 'okay."

The Overseer was set on that statement for a moment, but the awkward silence that followed quickly degraded it's value. Old habits died hard. A pause later, Tara continued in a quiet tone. "I don't think I ever told you, why I disliked ships, did I."

After a pause, she continued. "The Arcadians and the Nepherians had differing opinions on space travel as a whole."
"The Nepherians did not have much for a space program, though there were many attempts. A people raised on worshiping the stars were bound to try and reach them, but their attempts always came back null. Sometimes, it would be fauna- a territorial dragon looking at it as a threat. Sometimes, it was the dangers of space that brought them down. The few that survived those trials had many stories to tell; but the other times, it was a matter of faith. Sometimes you spend so much time obscured by the vision of attaining something to realize it's driven you away from what you believed in to begin with. It was those who came back, with nothing to say."
The Overseer paused.

As Rhea continued her hardest to focus the sparse energy surrounding her, the best she could muster was a thin chip of echyllis. Barely large enough to be considered a lense, let alone a spying glass. The endeavor was tiring, but it was large enough to be usable. Looking to the sky, she could see ever so faintly the pink lines of echyllis left suspended in the air from missiles past. Not three, not a few, not a dozen. Hundreds.

"The Arcadians, on the other hand, relished it. They would stop at nothing in their pursuits, no matter they good or bad. I've told you once, they had slain their dragons. Not for sustenance, not for protection, not even for score. They did so for pride, for control. They kept that mentality with all their expansion and endeavors. Opposition to progress was merely an obstruction to remove, their finds an ill-gotten crop to reap. Despite their care and paranoia, their desire for control and collection left their trace everywhere. A consequence they regretted to their end. I imagine it's that very fateful consequence that brought this whole expedition to conception." And the one that brought it crashing down, words Tara was not strong enough to say.

As Rhea continued looking around closer to the ground, she could see ever so faint imagery. It was the ship they were 'in', vaguely... whole. It was a simple sight, but one that drowned out the surrounding mess. Occasionally, she could see the flicker of something, someone moving down the long corridors ahead, only to flicker out a passing tick later. This was at least, plausibly, a human ship. The rage of time had stripped any identifiers, however. There were still traces of echyllis on this rock, but they were so strained their memory had become fleeting. Eventually, the exhaustion set in and the image faded.

"Any time I board a ship, I think of those two different nations' views of space. Both are understandable, but both have their potential and their lasting consequences. Every expedition carries some reasoning, not too dissimilar to those. Every single one, a story to be told, with no moral absolute. The Arcadians were not all without faith, and the Nepherians certainly knew how to slay their dragons." Tara paused and glanced at Glasawyr, making sure her comment was far out of earshot as she spoke to Rhea specifically. "Those two girls I told you about once, they could certainly handle that one."

The Overseer paused once more, finishing a bit solemnly. "I suppose it's all those reasons, all those variables, all those consequences that drive me to keep my feet planted on the ground. Do you sometimes feel the same?" Tara looked around. "Especially with how quickly those stories become snuffed."

The Overseer fell quiet, looking up briefly before returning to their patrolling gaze. Though Romulus' words caught her attention, she had hardly the state of mind to come back with a quip for the moment. "None, yet."

---

There was, however, the ever distant chill about the air. As Romulus looked over the letter and box contents, there were easy discrepancies to compare with his past experiences. The driver in question though, the prototype, it was certainly a familiar object. One of many created in those early glory days, a radical attempt to wield a power beyond public knowledge- let alone human understanding as a whole. The keys in question though, only a few were familiar. With the crystalized echyllis drained from their cores, they were hard to recognize. One did spring to mind, however. POLAR. A key designed with a logistical, flowing mindset. To push and pull, to magnetize.

One however was completely alien. It was of a similar aesthetic, but far refined- moreso than anyone in the institute would have had time to develop. In fact, it appeared to not be a key at all.

Instead, it was a coupler, one of unknown use. A key could easily be slotted into its rear, with the combined key and device possibly slottable into a driver as a whole package. Between the two ports was a protrusion of glass, copper, and various alloys that formed a bulbous sphere. It looked like an empty light bulb that fed directly into the core of the conduit running from one side to the other, though clearly no filaments were visible. On closer inspection, a name could be seen engraved into the ornate casing that protected the center conduit. ERROR.

Spire - South

The group had been called and assembled, their task laid out clean and clear. Hanging no less than four meters above them was a shipping container with valuable materials, their materials, previously obtained on their journey. The shipping container was in a precarious position, and any wrong move could send the whole thing crashing down. Analytically, this would achieve their goals of obtaining the useful equipment. However, that much metal hitting the ground would certainly cause enough noise to alert any nearby local. Things fell all the time as they rot, but this close to a shipwreck could cause alarm for anyone seeking out survivors. For better or worse.


In the distance, the light moved. Not towards the crew, but across the horizon. It was moving torwards the vague remnants of a smoke trail.
 
Spire

Swish... Shwish... Shwish...

Glasawyr's long, serpentine tail slowly slid back and forth along the ground as the massive reptile stared at the distant light with rapt attention. His pupils were so wide as to make his eyes appear black, allowing him to draw in as much light as possible to see such a long distance in the dark.

The smoke trail, he surmised, was the ship. It came from vaguely the same area where the Downrider had vanished. The light, well, he didn't know. A machine, perhaps, or maybe a type bioluminescent fauna. Granted, he'd never seen an animal capable of glowing that bright.

Curious to know if anyone else could see the mysterious light, Glas raised his head and glanced over at the rest of the crew from his comfortable resting place.

Ah. They were doing... something. He didn't know what. If they wanted the container down, all they had to do was ask. It wouldn't be quiet, however.

In the meantime, he couldn't help but remain fixated on the light. It was moving towards the crash. He did not like that. What if it was scavengers? He did not like that. Even with Dhalia and Artemis dead, he wanted a chance to say goodbye before leaving them in nature to be reclaimed.

Glasawyr transformed, standing up and dusting off his flowery shirt. He stretched a little, sighing as his back popped. The humanoid dragon scanned the spire, and after plotting his route, launched himself at the rock face. In four bounces, he gracefully ascended the spire and landed with a light thump on of the ancient tree roots, staring at Tara.

Abomina- Tara. Look at the horizon.

Well, at least he'd tried to correct himself. Not that it mattered, because she couldn't hear him. It was more for Rhea's benefit.

Nonetheless, Glas pointed in the direction of the distant light. His normally blank face held a look of urgency.
 
Rhea quietly listened as Tara spun her story- it was an interesting one. Although it was hard for her to imagine people being able to defeat Glas... but maybe that was becuase she was an adolescent on a planet that had next to no echyllis. Enough for her to watch the sky and count the many hundreds of times others had been shot down. She watched said dragon climb himself after pocketing her... wafer of echyllis, and considered climbing herself. Then she did- having itnended on checking out the container to see what all was holding it up- and how it could be safely lowered. Maybe somone could toss tope up to her for a pulley system of some kind-

Then, as she was climbing the wreckage, testing bits and bobs for any give, her head snapped around. "The horizon? Is something there?" She replied aloud to as Glas stared at Tara- already halfway up a mangled wall in her effort to inspect the crate. And thinking that perhaps, she alone might be enough if she could just find a good spot to start removing some of the valuables from within and tossing them to the others.

With some hesitation, she resumed her climb upwards, carefully eyeing everything. She didn't have her powers to fall back on if she mesed this up, unfortunately. "Uh, while they are checking on that... anyone want to do something to maybe, secure the container so it doesn't move while I do this? Or help me up? either is fine."
 
Spire

Tom nodded, looking down at his feet. He remained silent for a awkward amount of time, partly because he didn't know what to say and partly because his mind was elsewhere as Tara talked...

It can't end like this... He's been in here for too long. It felt very lonely and cold, despite being free from his other half. When you have a entirely different person living in your thoughts, you'd immediately paint it as a horrible thing. This is sometimes the case, but not this one. This other half... He needed to protect it. It wouldn't have mattered what anybody said, he'd be reunited with him, no matter what. They haven't gone through what he had gone through. They'd only understand if they opened themselves up to truly empathize with their situation. Then again, who even cares about them anyway? The both of them had been on their own for years, and have always counted in each other in some fashion. Why-

Tom snapped out of his thoughts, hearing Marie call for him. "In a minute!" He called back. He wasn't done talking to Tara, not yet anyway. Still one last thing to get off his chest before he had to help Marie.

"Well... Yeah, actually. Sort of. You and I are a part of this crew with the same kind of weight, but those weights are, uh... They're handed down by different hands. I think the best thing anybody can do is... Believe in the best case scenario, and work to make that faith into a reality. It'll be no different that growing a tree! At least, you know, conceptually."

Tom gets up from his sitting spot. "There's nothing wrong with keeping your feet on the ground, but there's also nothing wrong in believing you can be among the stars as you are among the most stubborn of plants. Eyes up and all that. All I can do now is hope that this voyage will help me, and help you all get to where you need to go."

"Okay, uh, gotta blast. Marie needs something."


Spire - South

Tom took a look at the predicament in question, scratching his chin. "Uh huh... Yeah, um... Yeah, I think there's a way we could do this. Maybe... I think I could use a few of my blueprints to make a elevated pillar made of granite. It'd be a safety net to ensure that the whole thing won't just come crashing down while we open up the cargo crate. Thoughts?"
 
Spire - South

Heuristics, Marie. No ideal solutions.

"Yes...that can work," she noted. "As we move items out the crate gets lighter. This lets us...hmm."

"The load is hanging. A sufficient imbalance will cause it to fall. What we need is a stable structure, or at least a fulcrum that can support one of our loads from our side as-is. That way we move items from the back first, causing it to get lighter..."

She started sketching a new solution in the dirt, one with many calculations on support and static forces.

"Got it. Put your pillar...there." Marie pulled a laser pointer out of her bag and pointed it at an area of the container.
 
Spire - South

"That sounds like a darling idea!" Friday clapped her hands together. "Unfortunately, my nanites aren't built for load capacity..."

With both hands raised and cupped before her, a single string of nanites sprung from her palm. It curled and twisted in her hands, before finding its way back. "Only for healing, really. Not even rapid deconstruction."

The doctor took a look upwards, at the precarious plunder. She took a moment, before speaking back up. "However... if its locked, they might be able to make quick work of it! ...maybe!"

"So, at the very least, I can do that, if my other tools don't work."
 
Spire - South
Look at those fucking nerds.


Vargas had followed the group quietly in the back throughout the entire journey through the starship graveyard and into the spire crash zone, standing his vigil as soldier even now. Having been extensively trained for such scenarios, he was one of the crew least bothered by the test of endurance presented by the wasteland planet itself. He only quenched his own thirst after all the others had already drank their fill, and gave up his own portion of the canned food the crew recovered so that they would be able to subsist on less empty stomachs.

Though admittedly his choice of outfit provided little in the way of shelter against the low temperatures of the surface, as a desert native, the cold didn't bother him too much. Hot days and colder nights were the norm back home, and if you weren't quick to adapt, the sands would filter you out like the rest. After the frostbite of Bivona, Enpala 13 was... a nice reprieve. But all things considered, just the thought of having to take inventory after the crew's reconvening at a new space-worthy vessel gave him a headache.

Since the ex-sergeant was now carrying minus one right arm, he had little choice other than to follow Friday until a replacement prosthetic was completed. Vargas was not entirely helpless—he could still make use of his handgun just fine—but having only a single hand to manipulate explosives and equipment with was both a hassle and potentially dangerous. Still, it was better to maintain a minimum safe distance from the mad doctor, but doing so still landed him in the south of the spire, where the crew's resident geniuses were gathering and discussing how to better reach... a suspended cargo crate? Seriously, you guys.

He'd cross his arms if he could, but circumstances being what they are, the informant had to settle for a sigh. "You know, if you don't get that thing down a whole four meters with whatever complicated plan you lot decided to draft, I'm shooting the cables holding it up and then nobody gets to be happy."
 
Spire

The plan had been laid and everything had been building to this. A group of helping hands had come together from different walks of life for this very moment, as if the universe had led them to this. A pillar to hold it here, nanites to destroy any remnants of a lock, an alechemist, and an engineer. All come together to finish a monumental process that took the hardened group an earth-shattering - twelve seconds to finish.

With the box now properly opened and it's contents able to be safely tossed down from within, the group could take stock once more. Two suits of compact body armor, fair to assume the third was being worn by one of the two missing crew members. A bundle of diodes and wires, as well as a now shattered glass tablet, and a still-whole infrastructure scanner. Alongside it was some meager amount of no-name-brand soup. Perhaps the most helpful of the Kerolyne finds, being Kerolyne itself, the Assault Cannon, it's ammunition, and the anomalous Black Box were all missing. Vargas recalled clearly that the Assault Cannon and Kerolyne Powder were stored in high security containers the likes of which had yet to be found, though the black box whereabouts were unknown.

Tara gazed up at Rhea, who had climbed atop a nearby slope of metal to get a better view. "What do you two see?" The Overseer said before gazing into the distance. After a bit of light filtration and, oh no. Tara sprung from the side of the tree, pushing off the hard bark as she got a better view of the moving light. "We need to move!"

Taking one last glance back to the group in confirmation, Tara slid down the hill to the west and into the remainder of the severed freighter. As the group began to gear up and file out behind, a cold feeling continued to creep behind them. From the crevices deep within the spire, a black tar bubbled and slipped.

Starship Graveyard

Traversing through the interior of the massive starship proved to be quite difficult, it's warped corridors leading the group in a wild chase up and down to get out. All throughout the ship, the creeping feeling followed the group in hot pursuit. Whether it was the need to find their own lost ship nagging at their neck or something else entirely was hard to say. It felt like a whole age had passed before the dim light coming through the door ahead gave way to an exit. Even in the low light, it cast an awfully long shadow behind the crew.

The door was forced open with two mighty heaves, pouring the crew into a deep trench carved by the nose of the giant ship during its descent. In the distance ahead, the crew could see the pillar of dwindling smoke now much closer emanating from another chunk of hull far away. A trench of shattered earth, fallen metal, and potential danger stood between them. Tara slowed for a moment to get their bearings as the rest of the crew began to right themselves from the small fall. The Overseer gazed at the rough trench walls for a second. About ten meters tall, lots of soft dirt but enough rock to make a good footing if need be. "Climbing out of here is going to take some work, or we move straight through."

Near the back of the group, Rhea's trusty spark began to tell an unusual story. It's previously known directions had become all but abandoned as the spark freed itself from her control. The spark vibrated violently, turning from a streak into a most unusual particle that jiggled around the side of her head. After conflicting with itself for a moment, the particle gave up, falling behind her as if it was sucked away... straight into the shadows behind her where it promptly fizzled out.


Tara turned slowly as an unusual feeling of dread swept the area. An unidentifiable warble filled the air as the shadows behind the crew began to quiver and bubble. It was as if they manifested a will of their own as they surged from the ground, filling themselves out into garbled mess of a shape as they rose from the earth. The warped shadows lurched and twisted, forming a vaguely human shape as they hunched over, like masses of ink given form. What could be make of these moving ink figured varied from person to person, flickering shape in a disorienting way. Three of them in total formed from the earth, mimicking the silhouette of fallen comrades, familiar figures, past mistakes. One could be seen with a strange mask and longcoat, which flickered in and out. Another, a... familiarly feminine shape but with a strangely horned head. To many, they could see the distinct silhouette of Dahlia and Artemis.

The figures resembled greatly what Arvero had warned them of mere days ago, the Folly. The Overseer snapped out a glaive, taking a step back and ushering the crew to do the same as the three silhouettes began to creep inward. Their steps were jagged and uneven, as if their feet were shifting through the dirt itself. There was hardly time to explain. "Whatever you do, don't give in to them."

The three figures lurched suddenly, springing forth at the crew as their shape morphed into that of a swirling blade. One was headed for Rhea, the next Romulus, and the third Glasawyr. Farther behind, two more began to form.
 
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