Futuristic Cosmic Deep (open)

More crewmembers rushed into the hangar and it quickly became a full-on firefight. The incoming fire was so intense, Daytona resorted poking his head out of cover for a mere moment before ducking back down. Then, he held his rifle over the crate and fired at wherever he had seen pirates with deadly accuracy. He could see the red-armored pirate in the back. His calm demeanor pissed Daytona off for some reason. Like he knew he was going to win. The crew were nearly matching the pirates intensity before Matias, Naomi and Eichkern broke off to board the shuttle.

"Aye, Sir." He responded to Matias' orders.

He knew they needed a way to deal with those shields. They didn't have a lot of space to conduct a flanking maneuver in the hangar. He considered letting the shields get right up on their position, and then engaging in hand-to-hand combat. Unfortunately, the "meat" would not likely survive that tactic. Even if they had any, grenades were out the question. The explosive decompression would cripple the ship. "Captain!" Daytona shouted. "Are you willing to fight inverted?!" He made a barrel-roll motion with his hand. Daytona wanted to invert the battlefield temporarily, and bring everyone and everything down on their heads. The difference being, that the Blackbirds crew would be expecting it. The pirates would not.

egglover
Wing06
PiePillager

@Fucking everyone

Dr. Gideon Corvus sighed contentedly as the ship shuddered from the fighting between the pirates and the crew. He had just finished making his secret recipe of seed bars and a glass of almond milk and the smell of the baked goods was promising. Stuffed with multiple types of seeds and nuts, with a variety of small fresh fruit mixed in, he could barely contain his excitement for this meal. He had focused too intensely in his work. Evaluating the crew, preparing for any new alien species they might encounter along the way and setting up his computer to the way he liked to do things, he unfortunately had missed the dinner. His stomach growled angrily as he had felt his energy levels depleting. But now, he could enjoy some nice seeds, nuts and fruits with a bit of honey glaze. Every bite was restoration and contentment.

"Delicious, every time," he muttered to himself. He sat down at his computer once more to continue working. Another explosion came from another part of the ship. The fighting would die down soon enough. The crew was more than capable with many having years of experience dealing with violence in various ways. Gideon, however, had never been a good fighter, and even when he tried to learn, he only got in the way. He was very large compared to the average species. Better to be useful in other ways and not be a hindrance to the crew as they warded off the pirate invaders. Besides, it just wasn't his style.

* * * * * *

While Gideon was relaxing in his room, Su Choon-Hee was feeling quite the opposite. Trying to dodge the myriad of explosions, pirate ships, missiles, etc., not to mention the annoying pirate captain blabbing had distracted her too much. The AI was unhelpful, as usual, and the pirate ship had dared to sneak up behind her and latch on to her ship! Now, she was fighting their hackers trying to disengage their hatch so they could fly just far enough away for her to turn around and blast them to oblivion.

"One thing you'll learn about me, Eickhern," Matias said matter-of-factly, "is I always have a plan. The cargo ships, including the Cassowary, are manned by a small crew, no more than ten. The intention was for them to be rotated out periodically. Since the ship is basically a pack horse, the determination was it could be led by one of the larger ships. The team down there is essentially security, they're meant to hold off an attack until help arrives."

The Cassowary came into view, and where the Blackbird was sleek and elegant, the hatchet bird was fat and sturdy. Looking at the craft, it was obvious it had been built to withstand almost anything. Attached were two pirate ships, one of which was actually docked and the other simply tethered. Crewmen from the second ship were actually in space, trying to cut their way through a second hatch which looked to be damaged.

"Security team!" Matias said through the comms of the Hummingbird. "We're tethering to the Cassowary at point 2-5-1, attach suits immediately and launch. Take out the pirates around the ship, arm the detonator on the tethered craft, cut her loose and detonate. Acknowledge!"

"Aye sir!" came the sergeant from the back, followed by a round of the same from the soldiers. By this point, the pirates attempting to cut through the Cassowary's damaged port were pointing and starting to head to cover. Matias skimmed the top of the pirate ship and twisted around the dark side of the Cassowary, coming to a halt and launching tethers that secured the Hummingbird. Matias turned back to Eickhern and Hart as the soldiers behind them filed out quickly, using the tethers to reach the Cassowary's hull.

"Eickhern, Hart, you're with me. We're securing the interior. There's a disguised hatch at point 2-4-1, follow my lead and we should be able to catch the boarding crew by surprise." Matias pointed to the part of the Cassowary he was referring to, then nodded to his companions. "Time to show me what you're made of."

FireMaiden
Lord Saethos

***

As the shield fizzled out, Haul seized the moment, bursting forward and grappling the enemy ship near the panel. With a quick twist of his wrist, the cutter came out and the panel broke free. Wiring spread out before him like a glorious soup, and Haul laughed in sheer delight.

"Let's see, that looks important," Haul said, grasping a handful of thick wires and tearing them out. Immediately, Halcon's ship shuddered, lights blinking off in various sectors, most noticeably the bridge. Haul followed another wire, and cut it with the Exo-Vator.

"Their comms are down, power's going haywire on them," Haul called to Hector. "You got any ideas on making something go boom?"

PiePillager

"I--" The Captain hesitated at Daytona's implication, her robotic sight adjusting with a silent hum when she finally nodded, "Yes, alright. If you think that will work."

What a mess, what a mess. Barely two hours into their expedition, if you could even consider it truly begun, and already Dr. Haliday’s office was covered in blood. Several of the crew had been injured when the ship was knocked about by explosions, and the casualties (all non-lethal thus far, thankfully) had racked up several fold over the ensuing moments as the raid commenced. Now her medical bay was full to capacity with more injured waiting outside, and if the numbers kept increasing she had a mind to tear down Dr. Corvus’s door and commandeer his office as more floor space.

Dr. Haliday stepped briskly from one patient to the next, assessing severity and ordering the Cry’s small handful of medical support staff about based on where the greatest need was. She never stood still, constantly a flurry of urgent motion, checking for broken bones, concussions, hemorrhages before moving on to the next patient. This would be so much more efficient if only- No, they were already stressed. It wouldn’t do to stress her patients further.

So she kept moving, ordering her staff to set bones, prepare compresses, ration analgesics. This was just a taste of what they may have to deal with in time. This was no true crisis, no need to fret. It was just numbers, no true severity. That’s what Dr. Haliday repeated to herself in her mind, soothing her own nerves. Just keep moving, keep working. This would be resolved soon.

With the Captain's permission secured, Daytona went about his plan. His shoulders shrunk behind his limited cover as blaster rifle ricocheted. Inverting the hangars gravity generator wasn't going to be easy. Thankfully, the controls for everything were on their side of the hangar. However, the control pad next to the door wasn't close to him. It was out in the open. Daytona would have to cross several feet of open ground to get to it, requiring him to expose himself to the withering fire of the pirates. He rose to a crouched position. A plasma bolt impacted next to him. "Parts can be replaced." he thought.

He sent out a quick message to everyone in the hangar. "I'm reversing the grav-generator. All hands, Brace."

Daytona sprinted to the control pad as fast as he could. The pirates didn't immediately shoot at him, caught off guard by the suicidal action. He tapped through the controls at inhuman speed. When the pirates realized what was happening, they turned their fire towards him. His processer outstripped the speed of the control pads own, as it had been designed for a human cognitive level. It made the mere seconds feel like minutes to him. The computer warned him of what he was about to do. He smashed the "acknowledge" message and magnetized his feet to the deck. The grav-generator began reversing its polarity. Up was now down.

---------------------------------------------------
A low groan sounded throughout the hangar. Small objects began lifting off the ground, followed by the larger crates. Slowly at first, the Blackbirds crew and the pirates began to levitate off from the deck as 0 gravity took hold. Stunned, the shooting mostly stopped. The pirates shield wall wavered. The engineers could no longer hold their perfect phalanx, and gaps formed in their line. Discarded charge packs floated daintily through the air. The low groan of the generator continued for several more seconds.

When it stopped, everything "fell" to the top of the hangar. Unsecured cargo crates slammed into the hangars overhead. The unsuspecting pirates fell the hardest, many losing their weapons in the progress. The Blackbirds crew faired better, expecting the shift in gravity. Most were able to soften the blow. Some even landed on their feet. Spent casings and chargepacks fell around them.

The environment had completely changed. What WAS the overhead was now the floor. Neatly stacked and secured cargo now hung upside down, above the combating sides; who were now standing upright on what used to be the overhead. When the pirates came crashing down, their engineers were in completely disarray. The shields vanished.
---------------------------------------------------

Daytona was still stuck to the overhead. His magnetized feet held him in place. He held the lasrifle in one hand, his plasma pistol in the other. "One liner.exe" He opened fire.

"I do, but I don't know if you'll like it," Hector commented. "...Lemme backtrack, you might actually. See their cannons?" he pointed at the ship's guns stationed on the top and side. "We gonna make those motherfuckers implode," he smiled from beneath his helmet. "Ever make a magnet bomb? Vleeboe mechanic taught me that a while back. It's some schoolyard prank shit, but it's simple to make and if you toss it in a canon or engine...? Well, we est get out the way real quick. Problem is they're definitely gonna notice us. So I need you to watch my back while I set it up."

***
Almost all of the pirates were caught unawares at the sudden flipping of the ship, failing rapidly towards the ceiling, their weapons scattering out of their hands with those who were still aware enough scrambling to get them back while diving out of the way of falling cargo.

Many pirates fell prey to the android's plasma salvo before they could even get back to their feet. Their captain, however, seemed fairly unperturbed by the literal upheaval, his own feet magnetizing to the ceiling of the Blackbird. Though it was hard to read on his metallic face, he seemed more bemused than anything. "Ah, now this...this is clever. As I expected of the crew of Captain Suleimon!" He tucked the hilt of his blade beneath his armpit to clap. "I was hoping there'd be some sort of challenge," Halcon chuckled wistfully. "At least for my crew..." he swiftly maneuvered the hilt of his sword back into his right hand. "For me, you all will have to try a bit more than that. Any challenger...approach me..."

As the pirate ship's power was on the fritz, Choon-Hee quickly took advantage of the chaos to gain some access to their controls momentarily, freeing the Blackbird's Cry from the docking hatch. She then quickly flipped the artificial gravity off inside the pirate's ship and, for a final bon voyage, sent a ransomware to lock out access to most of the controls such as for weapons, movement and navigation. Instead, their screens would show a smiling man on a sunny beach. Pristine water was before him as he relaxed in a chair with an umbrella casting some welcome relief from the sun. The camera would pan in as the man would raise his drink in a common gesture of gratitude and appreciation. "Thanks for thinking of me. You know I needed this." He would take a long, satisfying drink as it would ask for the pirate's payment information and processes. As they would stand there, trying to get back access, the short video would repeat.

As the pirates panicked, Choon-Hee quickly maneuvered the Blackbird's Cry away from the pirate ship, flipping around, ready to fire the ship's weaponry when she noticed there were some of the crew outside, looking like they were busy sabotaging the pirate's cannons. Realizing what their plan might be, Choon-Hee lay in wait for when they would need a getaway driver as their work completed.

* * * * * * * *

Dr. Gideon Corvus was in a similar position as the man in the ransomware video, reclining in his chair and relaxing. Even dozing as he slowly read over and over again the same paragraph, never getting anywhere but still refusing to nap. The book may fall on him at some point, if past experiences were any indication, waking him enough to realize he needed to get up and do something else, or to finally succumb to the temptation of sleep. Only time could tell what he would decide.

"Keep them busy!" Matias ordered Eickhern and Hart, latching himself to the hull and opening the hatch. He dove inside and shut the door behind him, the atmosphere of the Cassowary stabilizing around him and allowing him entrance to the ship proper. The dull red lights of the emergency washed over him as the inner door opened and Matias stepped quietly but quickly through the hallway. He'd memorized the layout of a good number of the ships, and the layout of the cargo ships made it easy.

First stop was the bridge - regain control of the ship. His grip on his rifle remained steady as he swept the corners, his footsteps echoing dimly throughout the silent ship. The fact that the pirates outside had yet to gain access was a good sign, but the silence suggested that the fighting was already finished.

Ahead, footsteps started to echo back and soon the sound was followed by pirates, their surprise evident as Matias sprinted forward. He didn't want to discharge his weapon if he didn't have to, and five, five he could handle.

***

"The path's clear, there are pirates on board as expected. Hart, Eickhern, follow me in and spread out," Matias said, a few minutes later, breathing only slightly heavier than normal as he wiped his knife clean and sheathed it. "Search for survivors, but head for the cargo bay. The pirates will be wanting to steal the cargo, if possible. I'm heading for the bridge to regain control."

Lord Saethos
FireMaiden

It had become apparent that the amount of pirate ships greatly eclipsed that of the Avian Expedition by a great deal, nearly doubling in number and ferocity, the buccaneers' assaults were relentless, the railgun doing much to turn the tide of the fleet against them. Aboard the Cassowary, The Vleeboan First Officer of the AESS Condor, Scabbrak saw the tide of battle rapidly turn against their fleet...if they even had a chance in the first place. Things kept going the way they were and their wings would be clipped one by one. The dreams of hundreds of trillions of people snuffed out in an instant.

His ship's own Captain, Ghin Gareux now lied in critical condition, after the asteroid strike via the Pirates' railgun had resulted in a near fatal fall fro the command deck. It was to Scabbrak's eternal shame that he could not reach the captain in time. To grab him before he was launched backwards and tossed him into safety. He had enough on his plate already, being a Vleeboean in such a prominent position. The only one of his race to achieve such a rank among the Expedition.

But now it all fell on him. he had to make a call. The most important call he would ever make in his career.

"Snorrt...Stand by! All officer stand by! As has been done on the virgin flight of the Avian Expedition, the Condor had opened comm-links to all ships within the fleet. "Attention, Avian Expanse. This is...graak Condor reporting in! Captain Gareux injured. Entire fleet in danger! Battle continues on and we die here. Expedition nothing but ashes. But First Officer has made choice. Was made with much-though! Has to be done for sake of mission."

***
Hector was going to relay more instructions to Haul before his eyes widened at a sigh in the distance. "Yo, Haul....I think we better pack it in...quick," Hector noted in an uncharacteristically panicked tone. "Right the fuck now," he added as he viewed a massive ring deploy in the distance, in what could only be in front of the Condor.

***

"As we speak, engineers are prepping not to fight but to deploy Warp Bubble. Coordinates are set. Directly for Megalomorchen," Sbabbrak grunted. "Dangerous, yes. But see no other option. Either die here...or rest hopes on the backs of fellow officers. Undertake mission for reason. Knew the risks...only not know when or where they would spawn...but here and now we make journey to beyond..."

***

Hector only just managed to venture back into the cargo bay. via the emergency engineering hatch, Haul not far behind. Having been outside during the skirmish inside, neither were prepared for the sudden reversal of gravity upon entering. All of First Officer Scabbrak's message was relayed throughout the ship, however, pirates and the Blackbird's crew alike received the message loud and clear.

Among the pirates, the crew began to panic. This was an outcome not outlined in the plans. Perhaps, they had underestimated the tenacity of the Avian Expedition. But while their faces were stricken with fear and uncertainty, among the chaos, their Captain Halcon could be seen planting his sword in the ground. One could say the body language he utilized was one of resignation, but soon after he chucked his shoulders back and simply laughed. It was an odd thing.

***

"Should we not survive....Scabbrak salutes you all," the rodent spoke, doing as much to all aboard the Condor and by extension the entire Avian expedition. "Done families proud. Done planets proud. Feel honored. Memory will live on in will of people regardless. For we embark further on an unprecedented journey. Godspeed. May we all meet again! And one day...return home."

***
A flash of light and all went dark.

***

Hector awoke in a coughing fit. Attempting to grab a hold of something to get to his feet, he would reel back in shock to feel what he had assumed to be the floor, suddenly crumble away in his hand. Sand. His eyes jolted open as he flipped over onto his backside to get a better view of his surroundings. He was still in his space suit. He wasn't sure if he would've survived without it....but how did he survive?

And where was he? None of this made any sense to him. He remembered the Condor activating the mass warp bubble in the midst of the pirate attack and then...No, no, none of this made any damn sense, he would've still been on the ship. How was he here? Was this a dream? Was he dead?

He glanced up at the night sky. Three moons hung above, providing enough light to see. There were hardly any stars except one shining brightly across the horizon and nothing for miles except dunes. ...This certainly felt real enough. Hector quickly touched his helmet....everything appeared to be intact. All systems operational. He did a quick parameter check, analyzing his environment.

Expectedly, no data came through about what planet he could possibly be on. The Expedition did finally pass through the black hole after all...at least they supposedly did, so it made sense if that were the case. Luckily, the environmental scan pulled through, as quick as ever.

...Oxygen. Atmosphere was breathable....allegedly. Much as he would like to breathe some fresh air, maybe feel the cool desert breeze on his face, he wasn't keen on removing his helmet on an unknown world just yet. Not until he ascertained the whereabouts of the others. But how? There was a chance, he was here alone. Stranded on some unknown planet, only dunes of sand in sight.

Not something he wanted to dwell on now. He had to hope. That was all he had to live on at this point. His suit was hooked up to the Blackbird's databases though. If it were anywhere nearby...it would...

Click.....click......click.....click..click..clickclickclickclickclickclick

It was online? And possibly nearby? Readings were up and everything, but...if everyone was as disoriented as he was the ship would be in no condition to even do a sweep of the land. Especially if it crash-landed in the sand or something. Quickly, he attempted to scope out through te Blackbird's databanks if any other ships in the expedition were in the vicinity. Only one entry pinged green. The Cassowary.

Things were starting to look up. All he had to do was triangulate the signal the Blackbird was emitting and follow it straight to it. Probably waaaaayyy easier than it sounded. But it was all he had to go on. ...Or so he thought. For in the distance, he spotted something that made him freeze. A humanoid figure so to speak, glowing white eyes glaring back at him with an unreadable gaze.

Hector wasn't sure why but very quickly...he lowered his guard. Perhaps because the figure seemed...frail? Aged. Upon further examination, a long white beard solidified that theory. That and the cane the creature seemed to lean on. Was he a native? Didn't look like any sort of alien he recognized. Was almost rodent-like though a lot of the old man's features were very humanoid.

Unaware of the next step he should make, it seemed as if Hector's decision was made for him with the elderly creatures slowly turning around, hobbling on what appeared to be a branch used as a cane. Were there trees here? Good to know. And as luck...or misfortune would have it...the creature was hobbling in the same direction he was headed. Towards the signal emitting from the Blackbird.

"Guess I'm following you..." Hector shrugged, marching his way across the desert, still nothing but dunes in sight.

The world went sideways, then upside down, as the artificial gravity in the hanger was disabled. In the chaos, pirates yelped, and cargo containers became makeshift weaponry. Tristan quickly flipped, his feet making contact with the ceiling. He let out a sigh of relief, seeing the rest of his companions had all fared well in the absence of gravity.

“Let’s end this!” He shouted, drawing his Vibro-blade and pushing off the hanger’s ceiling. He flew through the void and impaled a wounded pirate clinging to the storage container that had crushed his leg. The pirate spat and cursed Tristan with his last breath. Tristan pulled the blade back, its plasma edge cauterizing the wound. More blood was in the air than any creature would care to see. Tristan took the pirate’s blaster and began firing on the remaining intruders. A few slumped over as the shots hit their mark. More pirates had begun accommodating the lack of gravity and had started to return fire.

The Blackbird’s Cry’s loudspeaker crackled into life, causing Tristan to wince. A searing pain clipped his right bicep and sent him spinning. The announcement was hard to hear over the blaster fire and shouting from both sides. He managed to stabilize himself as the hanger went dark. The power flickered, and Tristan felt his stomach churn. A flash of light filled the hanger as the pirate’s ship was ripped away from the Blackbird’s cry. The atmosphere vented, and the blood in the air froze as the temperature dropped rapidly.

A moment later, Tristan felt himself falling. Gravity had taken hold, no longer artificial. He and the remaining crew members in the hangar were in free fall.

“Shit!” He muttered, now fully aware of the blood seeping through his sleeve and dripping down his arm. A loud boom shook the ship as it collided with the surface of some unknown world. The lights flickered and died. The hangar, now illuminated only by red emergency lights, was deathly silent except for the sickening sound of bodies hitting the ground. Tristan collided with the ship’s shuttlecraft and rolled to the floor, gasping for air. His vision blacked around the edges, and his breathing was the only sound he could hear before everything went black.

Hector followed the elder in silence for a time. He was still wary of the alien apparently leading him back toward the Blackbird. But as the minutes ticked away and he followed the old man from dune to dune, questions began eating away at him until he finally spoke out loud. "Do you have any-" Hector began, stepping over a dune to find the old man not present. Instead, he was pressed down towards the sand by a bony hand, presumably belonging to the elder.

Hector shot the old man an indignant look, surprised by the rodent-like alien's face, but the elder was not focused on him. Instead, his blank white eyes glared ahead in the distance and pointed. A pig-like creature was shuffling through the sands, about as large as a cow with bony protrusions covering its back like a sort of carapace.

Whatever it was, if it was anything like wild hogs back on Earth, it wasn't anything to mess around with. The piglike creature snorted as if sniffing for something. After a while, it seemed to have found whatever it was looking for. Its snout suddenly lashed out like a whip, becoming a sort of trunk as it fished for something beneath the sand. Some kinda fleshy pink reptile...or maybe amphibian? Either way, it was devoured quickly...and loudly as the now satisfied beast faced the opposite direction of Hector and the elder, making its own trek across the desert.

With the danger passed, the old man simply stood up...and continued to walk down the path, occasionally glancing at Hector to ensure he followed. "You know....I don't know if you're really trying to help me or not, but if you are...I don't care if it's grass or whatever, I'm starving." Hector frowned. He assumed without a proper localizer for this races' language, communication could only get so far.

Instead, he opted to make a bunch of pointing at his stomach, hoping that got across clearly. The old man, surprisingly, seemed to give something of a smile in response but said nothing as he continued to lead on. And eventually....brought Hector to the closest thing he saw to civilization since he had awoken...a simple campsite overlooking a massive cliff.

A fire was going, so he could only assume it was the old man's. Though, if it was, it was strange how it lasted this long. Hector was certain he wasn't imagining them walking for hours. Several sticks stood by the fireplace, pointed ends, indicating they were used for some sort of hunting. The elder walked over and grabbed one, pointing towards the sands.

After he did a bit of digging, he jabbed at a pocket of sand, which gave way to reveal some muddy water. Within was one of those lizard things. Jabbing it quickly with a stick, it died instantly and was soon hauled over the fire. "...well, can't complain..." hector commented as he took a stick of his own, and began testing the sands for other watery mud pockets.

Turning around to ask the elder a question, he almost thought the old man had vanished again, only to notice he was overlooking the cliffside. Hector, finally catching one of those lizards and then hovering it over the fire, walked over to see what the old man was observing. Sprawling ruins. A maze of a city lied below in the valley. A very old one. One that hadn't seen life thriving it it for a long time. At least nothing that wasn't some sort of animal.

"So, what is this? This your people?" Hector asked. The old man merely looked at him, and then went to sit next to the fire. Dismayed that he only had more questions as time went on, he took a seat himself and ate.

Dr. Haliday’s legs sank into the sand of the foreign world with every step she took, pressed down up to the knee by the added weight on her back. She hauled her leg up as high as she could, nearly pressing her knee against her chest each time to carry her forward through the desert under the light of the triplet moons. She wasn’t alone, joined by maybe a dozen or so crewmen from the Blackbird’s Cry trailing in a disorganized sprawl behind and alongside her. A few, like her, carried bodies on their backs - injured members of the selfsame fleet that had attacked them when they first set out toward Megalomorchen.

An air of unease hung among the group, and some continued to cast wary glances toward the pirates as they walked across the shifting dunes, afraid they might wake and attack them again. Some of the Cry’s crew had run off on their own, unwilling to aid the pirates or trust the doctor, but must had rejoined them after an hour or two. Survival took priority, after all.

“Doctor, over here,” called a young Ji’ki’ko’kri’kan communications officer from ahead of the group, the skull plate on top of his head faintly shimmering with reflections of moonlight. “I found someone. Hurry.”

Dr. Haliday redoubled her efforts to push through the sand, assisted by a small Zonkoi deckhand. He helped her up to the top of the dune, and her wings flickered slightly in recognition of the body half buried by sand.

“Another pirate?” the deckhand asked, headtails wrinkling in apprehension, eyes flickering from the unconscious figure to the sword in the sand to the woman Dr. Haliday carried on her back.

“A stowaway,” Dr. Haliday corrected, ignoring the look of confusion on the Zonkoi’s face.

Take her from me,” she instructed, gently passing the pirate woman off her back to the comms officer who had called her over. He took the woman delicately, lowering her to the ground and resting her head on his shoulder so she wouldn’t fall over.

Dr. Haliday approached the unconscious form of the Alfen, letting a few drones flicker out of her chest and alight along his body, inspecting him more closely than she could. Alive, even breaths. No immediate signs of head injury. Lacerated burn to his right bicep, which would need to be cleaned properly when they had the chance. For now she set her drones to it, cutting back the dried blood and sand and covering it in a thin film to cut down on risk of infection.

She waved one of the others over. “Water,” she requested, extending one hand. It was given after some hesitation. “Help me roll him over. Gently.” The deckhand and one of the assistant engineers came over, grabbing Tristan under his shoulders and pulling him from beneath the sand, rolling him gingerly onto his back and supporting his head so the doctor could pour a trickle of water from the canteen onto his lips.

“Are we gonna have to carry him too?” the engineer asked, shoulders tense. “When the sun comes up-”

“We’ll rest for a while,” Dr. Haliday announced, cutting off her question. “How’s the signal?”

The engineer sat with her mouth slightly open for a moment, her mind stuttering to switch tracks. “Um.” She pulled back her sleeve to look at the datacuff on her wrist. “It’s fine. Hasn’t moved since we started.”

“Good. Let the others know we're taking a break.” Dr. Haliday rose to her feet, turning back to relieve the comms officer of his care for the pirate woman.

Despite the warning, Daytona was still magnetized to the overhead. He had no chance to brace himself. The sudden jump to warp scrambled his inertial sensors and he quickly lost stability. The sudden on set of warp inertia ripped him from his perch and slammed the android against the wall. The force of the impact shook Daytona's circuitry and he automatically entered an emergency restart sequence.

*****
:reboot sequence initializing
:data radiate online
:data hardwire online
:A-link reactor startup commenced
:UUT test complete: Multiple errors

Dayton's sensors came back online one by one. The android was lying on his back, completely disoriented. A flurry of alarms and errors rang out inside him. Slowly, he sat up. A viscous liquid caused sand to cling to the side of his sensor unit, clouding his vision. He wiped it away with an unsteady hand. He did not understand what had happened. One at a time, he addressed his damages. He had been leaking hydraulic oil, but auto-cutoff valves had stopped it. His motherboard had been jostled and had loose connections, causing reports from other systems to stutter. Slowly, every single one of his actuators was tested. His hands rotated, fingers curled, neck rotated and knees bent all according to the manufacturers design. He had sustained no structural damage. His tritium atomic-battery hummed. This was a bad sign. It wasn't supposed to make any noise at all. An emergency restart should only take a couple seconds, but his atomic clock registered that no time had passed at all.

Daytona stood up and observed his surroundings. Trackless sand was all that he registered. How? He had been inside of a ship. By all means, he should have been eviscerated in the process of somehow ending up outside of it. "N-n-n-not lo-g-g-gical-logical." he said aloud. His voice stuttered uncontrollably. Normally deep and metallic, it now sounded loose and had an unrefined pitch. He took a few tenuous steps forward. Suddenly, he registered a large object at the very edge of sensor range. It was shaped like the Blackbird. Seeing no other option, he began trudging forward through the sand. "Not my final r-r-r-rodeeo."

Matias grunted with effort as he finished pushing off the wreckage from himself. The jump had triggered internal system failure on the Cassowary, and the subsequent crash had ripped the ship apart. Hart and Eickhern had been outside at the time of the jump... Were they all right? Matias had no prior experience with hyperspace jumps while outside of a craft. Was it even possible to live through something like that?

"Who's there?" a voice called out, as lasers began strobing the smoke. "Friendly?"

"Pirates," Matias muttered, recognizing the suits. "Guess that answers that question. If the pirates lived, Hart & Eickhern should be alive. I'll just have to find them." For a brief moment, he considered fighting, but whatever they had been fighting about previously, it hardly mattered now.

"Friendly," Matias said louder, returning the pirates' call. "We're all friendly now, anyway. Cargo's ruined, no point in fighting each other." He approached the group of five or six pirates, who looked nervously at the first mate.

"We don't know where we are," one of the pirates said nervously, swallowing hard. "We don't know what happened."

"The main fleet triggered a jump," Matias explained, flexing his fingers. "We must have gotten caught on the outskirts. We could be anywhere. We're on some kind of planet at least, and the atmosphere seems mostly breathable, miraculously." Matias paused. "We have no reason to trust each other, but let's do it anyway. Any wounded?"

"Two of us, we left them with one of our guys so we could look for supplies and... survivors," the pirate answered.

"That's a great idea, and you should continue," Matias nodded. "Any leaders left among your crew?"

"No sir," the pirate said after a moment. "We're on our own."

"Then welcome aboard the Blackbird's Cry crew, at least for the interim," Matias said. "My name is Matias Kingsbury, first mate, and I'll be delighted to learn your names and your skills. Now..."

Matias continued to lay out plans with the pirates, who, although hesitant at first, listened to Matias' words and followed his directions. Perhaps it was his calmness amidst the insanity, perhaps it was natural charisma. Whatever the reason, Matias was glad he would be killing no more today.

After walking for what felt like hours in the desert, it only began to dawn further to Hector just how damn cold it was. Spending so much time by the fire did help but he was starting to see his own breath. He almost wished he could stay by the fire and wait out the night, but who knew how long night lasted on this world. And who knew how long it would be before a creature like that boar showed up once again. Or perhaps something even bigger or more dangerous...Hector wasn't gonna wait and find out.

Nor was he going to toss any more questions the way of the elder alien. Clearly, he some of what Hector said had gotten across but nothing was ever given back in the way of an answer. What was clear was that this planet was not always a lonely desert populated by wild animals but once populated by some sort of civilization. Most likely the one, the elder belonged to...maybe. As stated he wasn't getting any answers/

And before he could sink further into his thoughts, Hector paused as he heard voices just over the dunes. Suddenly he sprinted forward, gaining a sudden burst of energy as he ran ahead of the elder. Sliding down the other side, he saw many others gathered around the crashed remains of a ship. It was the Blackbird's Cry.

Waving his arms, he slid down, running until he was out of breath to greet the crew. "Damn...." he sighed, leaning over and placing his hands on his knees. "Don't know how long it took....but," Hector suddenly stood up, nodding at various members of the crew, both those he recognized and those he didn't. Except for the parasite.

Notably, there were more than a few faces in unfamiliar uniforms. The pirates, no doubt. Makes sense that they made the jump with them, but they were being tended to all the same. He supposed they were just as lost as the rest of them. Several questions popped up in his head, but he stowed most of them for now except one.

"Where's Suleiman?" he asked loudly, to no one in particular. "One of y'all know?" he continued, grabbing some water being handed out by one of the science division officers. Drinking some gratefully he sighed, looking up at the Blackbird, assessing damages. He needed to get back there, check the engines, run maintenance. After he got his bearings, that would be the first priority...

...And then he suddenly remembered. The old man. He turned around, looking for any sign of him. He'd meant to thank him, for leading him back to the crew. ...How did he know anyway? Hector half expected him to vanish like a ghost, but as he turned there he was. Still quietly walking amongst the sands....past the Blackbird, almost completely ignoring it and its crew, save for a small turn of his head to Hector.

Nothing was said as usual, but if Hector had picked up one quirk of the old man it was that he only seemed to acknowledge him when he wanted him to follow. There was another Dune above the Blackbird...but there was something else too. The only way Hector could tell was due to how the moonlight hovering over it cast a faint shadow across the sands.

So the old man had no intention of leading him to the ship? Hector had to admit he was curious. And he had a feeling that maybe the old man had something to say after all...

Tristan woke in a haze. He was being rolled over, sand falling from his hair and cheek. He tried to blink away the grit but couldn't open his eyes or move a muscle. The wound on his arm stung, sand finding its way into the blaster burn. A canteen touched his dry, cracked lips and filled his mouth with water. Whoever was tending to him was exceedingly gentle, given the little he could make of his surroundings. Every sound was distorted, every bone ached, and the abrupt return to true gravity shocked his system. "Thank you," he muttered, barely audible above the drone of activity around him

The old man, continued to climb, uphill against a steep dune before finally reaching the large cliff overlooking the Blackbird and Hector followed. Atop it housed another ruin like the one Hector had seen previously in the dunes of the hill. Of all the temples that had been spotted on the planet, this one was the most alien. Instead of rectangular halls of stone and crumbled marble pillars, there lay a triangular entranceway jutting from the dunes that looked to be made of rusted metal. Atop the entrance, it curved into a jagged metal hood that hung over all who passed through.

Hector was almost reluctant to follow the old man, but he hadn't led him into danger so far. As a matter of fact, he had steered Hector away from it...but that didn't mean it wasn't all in preparation for something more sinister. No, that didn't seem to be the case. The old man was trustworthy. That said, Hector wasn't entirely sure why the old man trusted him. Perhaps he had simply been the first person the elder had seen in ages? He wasn't certain.

With more and more questions, piling up, Hector stepped foot into the ruins behind the elder...and soon realized it was no simple ruin. He walked down metallic stairs that led to broken metal tiles and spotted cracked and shattered screens overlooking a dulled array of buttons on a panel with exposed wiring. There was no mistaking it, this was a ship. How long it had been there was a mystery, it seemed simultaneously well-preserved yet practically fossilized. Sand had poured through various rooms, barring entry, though a few were still accessible.

Hector could've stayed here for days if it were possible. And depending on how long it took to repair the Blackbird, he just might get that chance. "So is this yours? How long you gonna stay silent? Wait up..." Hector commented as the old man continued into one of the few accessible rooms. It appeared to be some kind of lab, even in its dilapidated state, it seemed sterile...and oddly intact for the most part. There were various piles of broken-down equipment that Hector couldn't make heads or tales of for the most part.

The old man's goal in this room appeared to be a display case. Or what lay atop it. A stone tablet encrusted with a red jewel. The old man grabbed it and pulled it from the case and showed the tablet to Hector. Carved above the jewel were various hieroglyphics, symbols that he didn't have the knowledge to decipher at a glance. The red jewel seemed to flash several times and as it did, the glyphs all seemed to faintly glow the same color.

Almost instinctively, Hector touched the jewel, and a holographic beam of light emitted from it, displaying what appeared to be...a map! A galaxy map. Hector immediately drew back his hand but stared in awe. "This is...hold up..." he leaned down to get a better look at the map...and something was off. There was a sort of navigation route on display but the locations being pinged did not appear to be planetary bodies. There were no moons on display for any of these locations, no suns. Even when displaying the current location there appeared to be some discrepancy for whatever planet the Blackbird's crew had crash landed on. It was only when he spotted one of the nav-points in motion that he saw the bigger picture.

These weren't set to follow planets, but rather ships. Actually, judging from the size of some of the points in comparison to others, they appeared to be far bigger than ships. Space stations? Or something else? But there was no doubt about it that the nav-point linking the current location was this ancient ship he now stood in. With that realization in mind, it seemed that the old man had finally shown what he needed to. He gently, pushed past Hector, out of the room. Taking the tablet with him.

"Hey, wait! You ain't gonna hand that over? You can't just let me see that shit and-" Hector shook his head, knowing his exclamations were futile as the old man simply made his way out of the ship and back onto the dune overlooking The Blackbird with surprising swiftness. Hector made his way outside, following the old man, who looked over his shoulder with a weary smile.

"I thank you..." the old man stated. "A long life in solitude...the last of my kind. It was all worth it. Having faith in one prophecy....I thank you all!" He shouted to the heavens, echoing down the hill. "The Blackbird..." he whispered in such a way that Hector felt his spine chill. How much did this old man know? It must....deliver us."

The old man then raised the tablet in the air, lifting it to the sky and letting the red jewel radiate against the moonlight. As he did a beam of light seem to shine back down upon him as his flesh petrified into stone and crumbled into the dunes. The tablet lay there, with Hector, who stood in stunned silence, trying to comprehend what was happening.

Daytona trudged through the sand towards the ship that appeared to be the Blackbird. The desert heat was not kind to his internal temperature, though he was still capable of regulating it. As he drew closer, he took note of several geological features that appeared on his sensors. He was studying a cliff that overlooked the crash site when his foot hit something in the sand. He looked down to see a partially buried piece of debris. He uncovered it to reveal his plasma pistol. The robot almost let out laugh. What are the odds? The weapon was in no condition to fire, however. An inspection revealed sand in every crevice, the plasma agitator refused to ignite. Daytona holstered it. He would clean it later.

As Daytona approached the ship, he noticed a small debris field around the aft-end of the ship. His optics could tell the ship was in one piece, but it was banged up. Some paneling was missing around the engines. There appeared to be damage around the hangar. Probably from the pirates boarding craft. Daytona had not considered that if he was alive, then so too must be the pirates. He suddenly felt naked and unprepared with only his damaged pistol. Regardless, he trudged forward towards the rear of the ship.

Cautiously, Daytona approached the damaged hangar. There was a large hole where the pirate ship had been dislodged. Debris and stray cargo was strewn about the entrance. So too were the bodies of the dead. Daytona did not recognize any of them as crewmates. That was good.

The bright light of this planets star did not penetrate into the hangar. Daytona's sensor could not see inside due to some lighting effect that he did not know the name of. He attempted to call out over comms. "All a-l-l stations. This is Sec M-M-manager Daytona-tona. I-is there anyone on th-th-this net-net?" Daytona had no idea if he was even transmitting.

Suddenly, he received a faint callout. "This is Chief-, ....-anyone read me?"

The transmission was distant and punctuated with static. He did not recognize the voice, even as his receivers attempted to filter the audio. "Last station. This i-s-s-s Daytona. Hold you-you garbled. Say again?" He paused while tuning his receivers to see if he could improve his gain of the frequency. Other survivors. Thank... God? The robot looked up, that wasn't a statement or subject he pondered often.

FireMaiden