Futuristic Beyond Millennia

[Kaya]

[Andalites]

Andalites are about 7 ft tall. They possess a pair of legs similar to those of a horse, a pair of elongated arms ending in three fingers and four tentacle-like appendages that end in razor sharp bone blades protruding from their backs. Their preferred way of locomotion is quatrupedal, with their elongated second set of arms serving as front legs. Thanks to an unusually flexible spine and pelvis, they are able to stand up and walk on two legs and use their elongated arms much like a human does.
While the pair of eyes that's positioned similar to humans in their skull provide an averagely good sight, the flaps on their head serve to provide an extremely precise echolocation.

Highly intelligent, their race has outmatched every other known race in Bioengineering and Gene splicing. While not exactly aggressive or evil and actually being way behind the military expertise of humans they might appear amoral regarding their ways of driving their projects and sciences forward.

Their entire planet, Escafil, a small Mesoplanet with a climate similar to earth and one single continent covering about 40% of the planet's surface, is ruled by a queen, very much like a human monarchy. It is tradition for the queen's sons to command parts of the Andalite armies in times of war, however the enemy killing a prince is seen as a demonstration of their opponents power and equalty, immediately ending the war and labeling the former enemies as highly respected acquaintances.



[Races used for splicing]

• Hork Bajir
• Taxxons
• Perl

• 
  
  
  
  
  The Hork-Bajir are bipedal, have strong reptilian bodies with dark green-black leathery skin, and two hearts. They have snake-like necks with a sharp beak at the end of their heads, tyrannosaurus-like feet, three claw-tipped fingers and a thumb on each hand, and measure to a height of seven feet in adulthood. Their most notable feature is that they have huge, long blades all over their bodies: their elbows, wrists, feet, legs, head, and tail. Male and female Hork-Bajir are told apart by the number of blades on their heads; males have three blades while females have two.
  
  The Hork-Bajir are a feral, wild race, not directly aggressive but possessing a natural hunting instinct and very territorial behavior. Their intelligence is equivalent to that of a human toddler. They cannot see well in the dark, but they do have an excellent sense of hearing and smell. Their blood appears to be a deep blue-green. They are swift and incredibly nimble, with a reaction time similar to that of a star-nosed mole (8ms). They possess a high tolerance to pain and are capable of healing quickly.
• 
  
  
  
  
  The Taxxons are a race of large insectoids resembling a massive centipede. The most prominent feature of their face is the large mouth with razor sharp serrated teeth directly in the center. Situated around sides of the mouth are four red jellylike eyes. Eight to ten feet long, they are closer to the height of a human when standing erect due to the lower portion needed for balance. They also have twelve upper appendages that end in lobsterlike pincers and twenty lower appendages.
  
  The Taxxons possess an unceasing and irresistible instinct to constantly consume sustenance, especially meat. They will engage in feeding frenzies should they sense raw flesh or blood. They have no apparent qualms with cannibalizing their own kind, and if they are wounded they may even eat their own damaged flesh. Because of this overwhelming instinct it is hard to identify the actual intelligence of a Taxxon. The only reason the Andalites implement Taxxon DNA in their splices is to enable the process of Taxxoomniblastry, a genetically engineered hypergrowth of cells used to significantly speed up the process of their splices growing up to adulthood.
• 
  
  
  
  
  The Perl were a peaceful race native to planet Mül, similiar to earth, where they thrived and lived in harmony with nature. Most knowledge about them was lost after the Andalites besieged their planet and drove them to extinction after decades of experimenting with their DNA. They possibly were distsnt relatives of humans as their physique is very similar. Though their build is more slender, their skin iridecent white and their eyes bigger, their body shape is humanoid. Their skin color occasionally changed to black when the Perl was experiencing extreme emotional stress.
  
  Their high intelligence was the main reason for the Andalites to implement their DNA in their splices, as well as their docile nature to balance the feral nature of Hork-Bajir and Taxxon DNA.

[Splices]

• Shorm
• Nephilim
• Henker
• Capricorn

• 
  
  
  
  
  60% Perl, 40% Hork-Bajir
  The Andalites' most trusted splice. Capable of defending their creators in an emergency situation, yet not created for battle, they mostly were utilized to work as assistants in the laboratories, housekeepers and gardeners on the Andalite homeworld and motherships. They are about as intelligent as a human and possess a calm and docile nature.
• 
  
  
  
  
  30% Perl, 55% Hork-Bajir, 15% Kandrona Beetle
  The wilder and more dangerous cousins of the Shorm, additionally spliced with DNA of the Kandrona Beetle, a bug originated from the Andalite homeworld with an exceptionally sturdy exoskeleton.
  The Nephilim are the Andalites aerial warriors, armed with the Hork-Bajirs' razor sharp bone blades and incredible reflexes and protected by the Kandrona Beetle's natural armor a shock troop of Nephilim are an enemy to be reckoned with.
• 
  
  
  
  
  80% Taxxon, 20% Perl
  Two words to effectively describe the Henkers would be 'deadly' and 'mistake'. These splices are the living proof that Taxxon DNA should not be used as the base to work off of.
  These creatures aren't as nimble as the Nephilim Splices, but what they lack in agility and intelligence they make up with raw strength- and the six scythe-like appendages to work as incredibly powerful and fast legs or alternatively slice through almost everything in their way. Due to their mindless, aggressive nature the Henkers need to be trained for way longer than the other splices and require to be supervised by two Nephilim when sent into battle. After several deaths among Andalites, Shorm and Nephilim, the activation of Henkers is limited to absolute emergencies.
• 
  
  
  
  
  Human 33%, Hork-Bajir 31%, Perl 26%, Taxxon 10%
  The Andalites' newest creation- with an overall humanoid body covered in tiniest scales of only split inches in size they still look, well, halfway like the human race they derived from, aside from the big and two tiny eyes in their foreheads and the eye just above their chest.
  
  They are about as intelligent as a human, and, although generally cooperative and way less aggressive than Nephilms and Henkers, do possess stronger instincts than a homo sapiens.
  
  In a long, complex process of gene splicing and breeding, the Andalites managed to mutate the color changing gene of the Perl for the phenomenon to be used deliberately, giving the Capricorns the ability to significantly darken the color of their horns, hair, skin and eyes. That, their dexterity and their ability to see in the dark, gained from the Taxxon DNA, makes the Capricorns excellent to operate stealthily, especially in the dark.

[The Andalite Mothership]

A typical Andalite mothership, easy to recognize by the poor armament and the enormous dome taking up almost the entire surface of the ship.
Contained within the dome is an enormous garden, built to look like the vast meadows of the Andalite homeworld, as well as several buildings for all kinds of puposes.
The dome is made of Ramonium, a strong, flexible material best compared to the endurance of spider silk, making it exceptionally hard to puncture.

The heart of the ship is the Sinus, a biotechnological device working similiar to the Sinoatrial Node of a human heart, providing itself and the ship with energy through depolarisation. Once a year the Sinus shuts down for a week to recover and for general maintenance, to which the ship shuts down and keeps only the most important processes running. During this week the energy production is delegated to the secondary source, a row of hydrogen engines absorbing hydrogen from surrounding gas giants, cosmic clouds and the like.

 

[Kaya]

H-HB-TXX. 'Capricorn' G3.F-4
"Delta"

Biological age of 24 years at initiation of cryostasis
Female
5'6 ft tall

Human 33%
Hork-Bajir 31%
Perl 26%
Taxxon 10%

Gene spliced and genetically engineered in embryonic stage, kept in Somno Chamber until adulthood.

General and relevant knowledge transmitted through Neurolink.

Grown up within 17 months through Taxxoomniblastry
(A practice commonly used by Andalites to turn fetuses into full-grown adults within one and a half years.
It utilizes a hyperreproduction of cells similar to cancer commonly found in Taxxons. The mutation has been genetically engineered to additionally dramatically increase the reproduction rate of cells bearing non-Taxxon DNA in the process and self destruct after approximately one and a half years, leaving behind healthy cells.)

Artificial alterations- Retractable Ramonite Hork-Bajir blades implanted along forearms


Years of service- 6
Trainers- Elfangor Esgarrouth Aximili [Andalite], Dak Hamee [Hork-Bajir]
Focus- Stealth, unarmed combat, Hork-Bajir combat

Spoiler: Activation

A recording of the activation of H-HB-PRL-TXX. G3.F-4


Subject retrieved from Somno Chamber.

Sinus Link first impulse.
No reaction.
Sinus link second Impulse.
Neurolink detects brain activity. Consciousness established.

Neurolink data transfer started. Data transfer successful.
Subject opens eyes.

Conitive tests performed by Elfangor Esgarrouth Aximili-




Confused, she blinked into the cold light of the laboratory lamps while her mind was slowly released from what felt like a thick fog.
A blue face with striking, golden eyes appeared in her field of vision and expectantly furrowed its eyebrows. "Hello. Can you hear me properly?"
She nodded slowly, finally catching up with the situation. She knew this laboratory. She knew this face, she knew where she came from, that Somno Chamber right there, but although she even knew that all this knowledge had been granted to her by the Neurolink it was confusing. "I... think so? Where am I?", she asked a little disoriented.
"This is Ramonite 6, one of our motherships.", the Andalite explained. Elfangor, that was his name, right? Her own name escaped her memory though...
"And... and who am I? I don't remember my name..."
"You are Capricorn G3 F Delta." When she suddenly started to chuckle silently, he raised one eyebrow, slightly taken aback. "...Why are you laughing?"
Trying to suppress her laughter, she covered her mouth with her hand. "I'm sorry, just- it sounds so weird."
Elfangor tried to hide it, Buch the twitching at the corner of his mouth gave away that he was trying to hide a smile. "It does? So what would you like me to call you?"
"... What about just Delta?", she suggested spontaneously. Elfangor had created her, given her a life... she wanted to credit him somehow.
"Very well. But keep your ID in mind."
Delta smiled excitedly. "I will."

 

[Jordan-RP]

Mars-Sec Dossier:

(Face claim: Aleksandr Kuznetsov)


Name: Misha Ivanchuk
Age: 30
Height: Approximately 5'10" (~178cm)
Weight: 165lb
Organisation(s): The Dust Consortium [classification, terrorist/profiteer group]
Known Associates: Cassandra Jiles, Marrek Dubov, Hadrian Butler.
Status: Unknown


Notes: Information gathered on subject is exclusively second-hand. Source identified subject as a POI to enforcement agencies. Purportedly the leader of a cell within the Dust Consortium. Current whereabouts and activities are unknown. Suspected for the hijacking of 'The Havana' luxury cruiser. Suspected of carrying out raids on shipping lanes: Alpha-87, Alpha-30, Gamma-66.
Information gathered is non-binding, source was unable to substantiate claims.

Last updated: 339 days ago

 

[Jordan-RP]

Harriet Zandri spat out the last of the mouthwash; it was the second time this morning she'd thrown up and the air inside the small cubical was still feted with the scent of vomit. She took a paper towel and wiped the cold sweat from her forehead before leaving the private restroom and stepping out into her office.
Her stomach still churned with a mixture of giddy excitement and crippling anxiety, and her heart hadn't stopped racing for hours now.

She forced herself to take in a deep breath, exhaling slowly as she gazed out the plexiglass. Earth's southern hemisphere made for a spectacular horizon below her, and the length of the space station stretched out to the right of her window, interlocking cylinders gently rotating. The whole station was essentially a gyro, powered by a combination of solar energy and the gyro structure.
The movement added to the beauty 'below' her. It helped when going through her meditation routines, but she very much doubted she would be able to get through one if she tried now; her mind was in constant motion and it was nothing like the magnificent, gentle view outside her office window. Instead, her mind was erratic, racing through the plan, darting from one possibility to another in no particular order, as if she were in pursuit of something that had eluded her.
"Come on," Harriet chided herself, "just a little longer, you made it this far."
There was no point in second guessing herself, the plan had already begun, she was simply waiting for her part to arrive, waiting for the chirp from the door's intercom to summon her into her new life.

A smile crept onto her face, the giddiness getting the better of her. She'd met Misha Ivanchuk eight months ago, one month after the Andalite craft had been recovered, drifting in an asteroid field—an incredible find, a historic one. Misha helped her win the research contract for Zandri Holdings, he'd put her in position to succeed. Even with his help it was a marvel Zandri had come out on top of its competitors.
It hadn't taken long for things to turn sour however, the bitterness of it still churned in her gut all these months later... the project was taken from her, assigned to her entitled cousin—and son of the C.E.O—Caleb Zandri.
She was older, had served half a decade longer, done everything that was asked of her and more. His accomplishments amounted to having a penis and the good fortune of being born a Zandri. Everything had been handed to him, even his qualifications were suspect, usually accompanied by exorbitant donations to his schools.
Somehow Misha had known, he'd approached her, offered his help, asked for hers. Finally she had a way to fight back. She could imagine it now, her uncle in a futile rage, screaming at Caleb for his incompetence. She imagined whispering into her uncle's ear, telling him how much he'd underestimated her. That fantasy has sustained her these past months, that fantasy, and Misha.
He was different from anyone she'd come across in her social or professional circles, he didn't wait for permission, or observe the norms that other people are tied down by. Working alongside him was more exciting than anything she'd been a part of before.
Harriet was sure she wasn't imagining it either, there was something between them, granted she was perhaps seven or eight years older than his thirty, but what was that between adults? She was attractive, and still kept herself in shape. They'd handled things professionally up until now of course, but after all of this, she hoped they could explore what was between them.
Harriet gnawed on her bottom lip as she turned it all over in her head.

"Echo. Open the 'Andalite Project', sub-folder 'Obsolete Routines'." she said to the office assistant A.I. Even saying the words left a foul taste in her mouth.
Of course she didn't have clearance for this project—she had Misha and his fellow Dusters to thank for her access—her cousin had known she would just undermine him by merely displaying the bare minimum of competence.
Her holoscreen was flooded with data. She swiped away several irrelevant panels until she was left with the most recent entry: a data-stream collected in the latest FTL simulation with the Andalite craft.
The simulation had been deemed a success, but Harriet did not hold to that view. Nothing could be called a success when everything Caleb attempted fought against the nature of the Andalite's ship, instead of trying to understand it and work with it.
One couldn't call the ship a living thing, no, but it wasn't purely mechanical either. Despite the researchers attempts, they could not find a baseline code that drove the technology... instead it had instinct. Understanding that instinct and how to harness what drove it was the kind of breakthrough any scientist dreams of, a technological leap with endless possibilities. But Caleb continued to brute force his will onto the ship and ignore everything that didn't fit into his pathetic world view.

In the simulation the craft had responded as expected to their commands; it had been beaten into submission by the extensive jerry-rigging that Caleb had added, which allowed the researchers to interface with the craft using human technology—rather than trying to understand how the Andalite's technology worked.
Caleb missed the point entirely, what was he hoping to learn from the ship, now he'd achieved his purpose?
What fascinated Harriet was that despite the jerry-rigging, there was still a secondary routine running in conjunction to the researchers commands. It was often in opposition to the commands Caleb and his team input. It didn't materialise into anything substantial, it was simply there, running in the background, as if waiting.
Harriet spent the next couple of hours at her desk, pouring over the data and piecing together what she could from the flawed collation methods of Caleb's team. This was simply to pass the time; soon she would be able to do things her way.

---​

Misha rode the elevator through the station, hands held behind his back. He wore a stiff grey uniform that marked him as part of the maintenance crew, a pretense he'd been keeping up for several months already.
He could make out his blurry silhouette in the porcelain-white plastic that seemed to cover every available surface of the research station.
Misha did well at appearing unremarkable when he wanted to. He had a slight build and stood a couple of inches short of 6ft. His thin face wasn't striking either. His bright, amber eyes were his only unusual feature, but throw in a hunched posture and a tendency to stare at the floor when in company and that was easily missed.
Here on the station his attentive, purposeful demeanor was no where to be seen, at least not in company.

As the doors opened he unclasped his hands, keeping his eyes down as he walked through the corridors, passing other station workers going about their business. He arrived at the maintenance hatch where Cassio was waiting for him, already in her vac suit. The satchel of explosives was secured in a sealed case over her shoulder. He gave a pointed nod to the case, she just grinned back by way of reply. After he suited up, they both made their way out the hatch, navigating the outside of the station together. They didn't exchange any words, it would all be picked up by the comms tower. Instead they worked in silence.
There were already a couple of his crew on the station who'd followed him, like Cassio, laying the groundwork. Another dozen were arriving as staff for a false—supposedly groundbreaking—research project Harriet Zandri had orchestrated. And the legitimate group of scientists and research staff had been waylaid en-route to the station from Mars.
Harriet had wanted to bring them on board earlier, and while the timing was admittedly tight, Misha didn't trust any of them to be able to keep up the pretense of scientists longer than a few hours. And that was assuming they didn't open their mouths.

---​

Harriet was up and across the office moments after the intercom sounded. The now-familiar voice came through from the speakers, "Miss Zandri. Maintenance. We received a work order to look at your ventilation system."
She allowed herself one last look at her office before inviting Misha in.
He stepped inside and straightened up, shedding the sloppy posture and only meeting her eye once the door was closed.
"We're ready. The Mars shuttle is beginning docking protocols now."
She nodded, her stomach knotting itself tighter than a vice. "I meet your crew at their shuttle and escort them to the research deck."
"Yes. Then you come back here, and I'll find you when it's time." Misha said.
Harriet bit her lip for a moment. "I don't understand why you can't tell me more. Don't you trust me?"
The was a flash of something on Misha's face, she only saw it for a moment, was it guilt, anger, something else? Whatever it was seemed to melt away as his demeanor softened. He touched her arm and she felt a pang in her chest.
"I know it's difficult, but we all have a role to play. With these operations it's better if everyone only has to worry about their role. No one knows every moving part."
"Except you."
"You know more than anyone in my crew." he said, holding her eye.
Harriet knew it was foolish but she smiled at that. "I'm sorry, This is all new to me."
"Not for long. Ready?"
"Ready."

Harriet met Misha's men in the docking bay. She saw Misha was right immediately; they wouldn't pass for research staff if their lives depended on it. She had assumed they would have the same discipline as Misha, who could blend in, but that clearly wasn't the case. Even in overalls it was clear several of them were heavily muscled. Others had tattoo's climbing up their necks or poking free from their sleeves. And each and every one of them looked ready to jump someone, as if everyone was a potential threat that needed to be neutralised.
"My name is Harriet Zandri. If you'll follow me, I'll get you set up."

---​

Harriet was heading back to her office alone when the rapid, high pitched tone of the station alarm cut through her. She froze, panic gripping her as she waited, but no announcement came from the P.A system. Was this part of the plan?
She hurried on, bursting into her office, heading for her computer terminal, but what she saw out the window pulled her up short: the communications array for the station had suffered catastrophic damage. The satellite dish was drifting in space, separated from its base, and the various antenna were either gone, or twisted remnants of what they once were. Long range communication was out of the question now. There were contingencies for scenarios like this of course, but they would take time to bring online.
Harriet stood staring at the damage.
The alarm fell silent, breaking Harriet from her stupor. She pulled her communicator out. "Mish-" static filled the communicator as soon as she tried link with Misha. Short range transmissions should still have worked without the communications array. Harriet tried a couple more times before flinging the communicator into the plexiglass.
She wanted to leave her office, try and find Misha, or head back to where she left his men... but he'd said to stay in her office.
Instead she moved to her terminal and brought up a security feed. Cycling through the different cameras. She saw security personal in confusion, scrambling to recover, but none of the groups seemed to be moving in the same direction, all movement and no purpose.
The feed of the Andalite ship's hanger was where she looked next; she felt light-headed, seemingly all her blood rushing to her head at once. The feed was silent, but a firefight was ongoing. The station's security was being quickly overwhelmed, several of their bodies already littering the floor while the men and women she'd escorted through the station were butchering them.
"He promised," she sputtered, "he promised!" hands trembling as she cycled through more feeds, trying to find Misha. Surely something had gone wrong.

---​

Misha was in the station's control room with two of his people. Cassio was systematically restraining each of the control room staff with magcuffs, binding them to the wall outside the reach of any terminals. Meanwhile Red was working alongside Misha at one of the terminals.
"Cass!" Misha snapped, shortly after the woman had cold-cocked one of the workers with her pistol.
"He talked back," she said with a shrug, her tone sounding about as rebuked as it ever would—which was to say not much—but she did at least holster her pistol, before going back to berating the cowering technicians.
"Looks like the last of them surrendered," Red said. He was monitoring the other Duster's progress in the Andalite ship's hanger while he was uploading his program to the station's network.
"Good. I hate heroes," muttered Misha. He was waiting by the P.A system—which was hardwired into the station. "Tell me when you're ready, then both of you get those vac suits on."

"Aaaand that's it, she's ready," Red said after a couple of minutes, standing up from the terminal and looking pleased.
"Oofh," Cassio said, "you service all your women that well?"
The lad reddened, clearing his throat. "Give it a rest will you..." he said halfheartedly. She grinned back.

"Shut up, both of you," Misha said, without any hint of malice. He keyed the P.A system.
"My name is Misha Ivanchuk, of the Dust Consortium. We have control of all the key systems of your station. We have no intention of hurting anyone who doesn't get in our way—"
Cassio snorted half-way through putting on her suit, looking over to the still unconscious crewman.
Misha continued, "Your lives depend on the following direction: we will be venting corridors A3 through C8, G2 through G9 and R2 through Q1." Misha took a breath before repeating his last sentence. "Anyone still in those corridors will suffocate to death. I advise you make your way to any of the stations rooms or offices. Stay out of our way"
Misha waited, looking over to the camera feed outside of the locked control room where a number of security personnel had posted up. It only took a few exchanged glances before they began to disperse.
"You have one minute," Misha finished, and began suiting up for the second time that morning. "Red, execute your program once the guys have the hanger cleared of anyone who surrendered, and secured themselves."

Red's program was far more elaborate than it needed to be, but Misha knew the lad worked better when he was excited about something, and if this got him excited, then that was fine.
Once executed, the station would be told there was a dangerous 'contagion' that had to be vented into space. Said 'contagion' was in the corridor outside the control room, and the only suitable exit into space—according to Red's program—was the Andalite ship's hanger, giving the three Dusters in the control room a clear run to their prize. The added benefit was that anyone who overrode their door's locking mechanisms would be quickly rendered useless without a vac suit.

Red executed the program. All the safety doors en-route to the hanger opened up, the last being the hanger itself. Air was blasted free of the corridors leading to the Andalite ship. There were shouts of protest as Misha, Red and Cassio made their way to the control room door, but they went ignored. The shouts of protest were instantly silenced as the door opened and the air was sucked from the room.
They were buffeted by the force, but quickly left the room, sealing the door—and the staff—behind them, and leaving the control room to quickly refill with air.

---​

Harriet watched the camera feed from her computer as Misha ran through the corridors. Her cheeks were wet with tears as she watched. She couldn't believe it until Misha was inside the Andalite craft and its doors shut behind him... the realisation was deafening: Misha was leaving her behind.

---​

The Andalite ship's interior was a blend of the familiar and the alien. Misha had seen the researcher's images and video recordings, but seeing it with his own eyes was its own experience. The ship thrummed under his feet, capillaries—like blood vessels from a human body—lined the walls, feeding power to the different functions and radiating a clear blue light through the ship.
It lacked the clean, utilitarian lines Misha was used to, favouring a far more artistic approach, curves and arches, interlocking with each other to form the main structure, resembling that of a rib cage along it's hull, which made sense in a perverse way... the exterior of the ship was similar to that of a bird of prey from earth, its wings extended forward, as if reaching out for something.
Ladders connected the three levels of the ship, freshly installed by Zandri's engineers; they had seemingly replaced everything they could with human technology, that which wasn't structural or integral to the Andalite's craft. But despite that, they hadn't been able to mask just how strange it all was. Clear, empty tubes big enough to fit a full grown man lined the walls, their purpose still unknown to both Misha and the scientists.

"Take us out, spool up the FTL once we're clear of the station." Misha said as he strapped himself in, in the back of the craft.
One of his men, Kayde, had taken a bullet to the thigh in the firefight in the hanger, it was bandaged but the wound was still bleeding.
There were two pilots handling the craft itself, Galen and Dreg, excellent pilots in their own right, but even so this alien ship was not what they were accustomed to. The whole craft shuddered as it exited the hanger, sending those not strapped in, stumbling, and Kayde moaning as he rocked in his safety harness. Some were on their feet seeing to tasks, namely bolting down the Suppressor—a handy piece of tech which emitted a field that kept the occupants from being ricocheted off the walls like stray bullets.

"Shut up Kayde, you know it won't get you any sympathy." Cassio said.
"Don't you have an off switch Cass?" Marrek asked, as he started to bring the Suppressor online, tuning it to the correct mass and strength for the ship. Wormhole travel was not standard practice, though pirates were the most accustomed to it in the system. Even so, it was dangerous, anything that wasn't an exact science was.
"At least I have an on switch, besides I—"
"Dreg not yet, we're not ready!" Galen's voice cut through the chatter of the crew, the panic quieting everyone down immediately. The whine of the FTL was rising and outside of the cockpit the first tears of the FTL's wormhole was beginning to show.
"It's not me, it's not me!" Dreg shouted, frantically trying to override the FTL. "It's doing it on it's own!"
"Shut it down!"
"I can't!"
"Marrek get that Suppressor online now!" Misha ordered from his seat. "Everyone strap in." Misha's eyes were glued to the wormhole opening up in-front of them.

It all seemed to happen at once, FTL travel had a way of compressing the last few seconds before launch into a single, timeless moment. The Suppressor was engaged. The wormhole opened. People were screaming. Misha thought about Harriet. Marrek was launched off his feet through the cabin by the momentum. The ship was hurled through the wormhole.
Misha's vision blurred, his insides screaming in protest, his limbs were going numb. He strained to stay conscious, every part of his body telling him to give in and let it happen. His safety harness pressed him further into his chair, feeling like a constrictor knot closing about him. He fought to stay in the present, to be ready, but within seconds, he was out cold.

Pain greeted Misha before any other thoughts surfaced. His ears were ringing, and his body felt like he'd tried his hand at the Moon's fighting pits. As he breathed he felt a sharp pain in his chest, likely a cracked rib.
He smelt piss and the heavy scent of blood. Forcing his eyes open he tried to take in the scene. As his vision slowly came into focus he saw globules of blood floating through the cabin, drifting towards the cockpit.
He let out an involuntary cry of revulsion as his eyes found the source of the blood. Marrek's body was missing a significant portion of it's upper half after it had slammed into... someone, sat across from Misha, both corpses oozed blood and guts. He couldn't think about that now....
Misha was shaking as he unstrapped himself, he felt so weak.
Dreg was already awake, tapping at a console, speaking in half-muttered words. The others were slowly beginning to come around. Their reactions to Marrek's collision was similar to Misha's.
Dimly, Misha pushed his way to over to Kayde, doing his best to apply a tourniquet to the man's leg, which would soon become a problem as the blood rushed back to his outer extremities.
"Where are we?" Misha asked.
"Give me a minute," Dreg answered uncertainly. Misha looked over to Dreg, the cockpit beyond revealed nothing but a yellow haze in every direction.
Misha wiped at his mouth, the taste of his comrades blood making him feel sick. He push off Kayde's chair towards the cockpit.
"Do you have any idea?" he asked in a low enough voice to keep the conversation just between him and the pilots—Galen was beginning to come to now.
"I haven't got a clue, Misha," Dreg replied, loud enough to keep the whole crew informed.
Misha's mouth formed a thin line, but there was nothing he could do, he wasn't a pilot. He was about to move away when he caught a glimpse of a shape out in space, through the yellow haze.
"Did you see that?" he asked.
"See what?" Dreg looked up, frowning. Both of them stared out the cockpit, straining.
The glimpse Misha had caught materialised before them through the fog, an oblong opal structure that formed into a point at it's underside, like a 'spinning top' turned upside down... and it was getting closer. Dreg sucked in a sharp breath, looking immediately to Galen, who wasn't operating any of the ship's controls. "It must be moving towards us." Dreg said.
"Get us out of here." Misha said,
Galen took hold of the flight controls, but they were unresponsive.
"Tool up!" Misha shouted, turning mid-air. "We're being boarded." Not everyone was even awake, and half of those that were, were still too delirious to be any use.
Misha was reminded of every inch of his bruised body as he moved from crewmate to crewmate, getting all those who could fight, on their feet, or as close as you could in zero gravity.
They were closing on the foreign object fast, it filled the cockpit canopy now, and despite his best effort, Misha was stunned by what he saw.
It was some kind of space station beyond anything he'd imagined, a giant dome covered the upper portion, it was hard to make out any detail, but there were shapes inside the dome, as if it were one gigantic viewing window.
Red had gone below to another deck, but reappeared now with a handful of breathers and handheld o2 tanks under his arm, enough for the five-strong fireteam who were lucid.
"Good idea," Misha said, as the breathers were passed out.

Their course didn't alter, and the giant station swallowed up the small Andalite craft. The light from the yellow haze was gone, and the Dusters were left with the blue light of the Andalite cabin, the darkness outside leaving a whole host of nightmares up to the imagination.
Gravity began to return and they drifted to the floor, none more relieved than Misha; even if he'd been born in space, he still wanted to die with his feet on something solid.
There was a loud thunk as the ship settled. No one made a sound inside the alien craft, and no sound outside could be heard outside. Minutes passed, the silence only broken to hush waking crew mates.
"What's out there?" Cassio whispered.
"You four with me," Misha whispered, pointing to the others with the breathers. "Rest of you get to the lower deck and seal it." He keyed his communicator, checking their comms were still active. They were. "If it's breathable, we'll signal. Hold down the ship. Three minute updates. Send a second team if we miss a window."
The orders were carried out smoothly, even if a bit hesitantly at first, and once they'd managed to get Kayde down and sealed the deck, Misha opened the door. The beams from his and Red's torches cut through the darkness in streaks, dust and matter filled the air, giving the illusion of smoke. As the Duster's descended the ramp and set foot on the hanger deck, a soft light began to grow and spread through the hanger.
Misha's heart thumped against his chest as if it were trying to escape. Looking around left no shadow of a doubt that this was an alien construct; it bore the same distinct features as the stolen Andalite craft. Curving white struts lined the walls and roof, pillars extending from floor to ceiling. Pipes ran alongside the struts, but unlike those inside the Andalite craft they had arrived in, which glowed with a clear blue light, these lay dormant.

A glance to the colour strip on his o2 tank showed Misha the air was breathable, it's green strip was unblemished by any spots or discolouration.
"The air's breathable, no contact yet," he said into his comm.
"Check," came the reply.
Despite the confirmation, Misha hesitated before taking off his mask. He took a lungful, wincing sharply from the pain in his ribs, then nodded to the rest of the fireteam. Better they were all armed if they came across something, rather than juggling flash-lights and air-tanks.
He felt vulnerable, armed only with a small caliber pistol, no body armour, no idea of what might be facing them, or where it might come from....
His crew tended to have a better life expectancy than other Dusters because they didn't go in blind.
There was only one route from the hanger, a set of winding stairs leading upwards. Together they made their way up, senses strained for any sign of danger. The stairs ended about thirty feet up, opening into an wide, open space. The dim light wavered, making it difficult to see the whole room at once. It was oval in shape, perhaps eighty feet in length, forty in width at it's center—the widest section.
Two corridors led off at either side from the middle of the oval, tall but uncomfortably narrow, just barely wide enough for one person to walk through.
"What the hell is this..." Yolina said. "I must be dead, this isn't real."
Despite Yolina's flare for the dramatic, Misha was inclined to agree with her, it wasn't real, how could they have been brought here, when it just felt... dead.
"It's like on the ship," Red said. When he got a confused look from the others, he nodded towards the tubes that stood along the walls, each fed by purple, blood vessel-like conduits, all of which that Misha could see looked dead and shriveled.
Misha nodded faintly, approaching them, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end. The tubes varied in size, but each was big enough to house a person comfortably, which given the context was disconcerting enough, but these—unlike those on the stolen Andalite craft—still contained the remnants of once living things. Each seemed to tell a different story: some frosted over hiding some unknown inside; others filled with some kind solidified fluid, suspending the corpses of shriveled creatures; one of the tubes was cracked, the long evaporated goo still staining the floor around it, the bones of it's guest still lying at the bottom of the tube.

"No contact yet." Misha said into his comm. The statement didn't come close to doing justice to what they were witnessing.
"Check."
"You two watch those corridors," Misha began. "Yolina watch the stairs... Yolina, stairs, now." The woman's trance was broken. She blinked a few times, "Y-yes boss," she said, and tore her eyes from a particularly gruesome corpse, it's dead flesh not thoroughly rotten yet, and headed to the stairs, holding her gun in a white-knuckled grip.
"Red see if any of those consoles are active," Misha said, nodding towards the other half of the room. Various consoles lay dormant, all positioned facing one large twenty foot console that filled the end of the room. Flanking the walls were more tubes.
Morbid curiosity got the better of him, and he left Red with the consoles and headed towards one of the tubes that had caught his eye....

 

[Kaya]

- - - - < 1563 years ago > - - - - -

A sharp yell rang through Training Room 1 when Dak Hamee sent the young hybrid flying across the ring. Like a cat she turned in mid-air, twisting into a position that would enable her to land on her hands and feet. The long blades on her forearms dug into the Ramonium ground to bring her to a slithering halt, sparks flying as they left deep scratches. The training rooms had purposefully been lined with the sturdy mineral to avoid damage on the biological components in the walls and ground.
The veins in her forearms flashed up in an electric blue glow for a moment as the Capricorn tapped into the Neuro-Link to draw on the Sinus' energy for additional strength and speed, but the Hork-Bajir was already above her, towering over her small frame before he slammed her against the wall.
The Sinus itself, the ship's heart and brain, seemed to squirm in sympathy.
"Too weak. Too slow", Dak Hamee snarled in Hork, his kind's mother tongue, while he lightly pressed his arm blade to her throat. Delta knew he was angry, she could hear it in how his voice was even rougher than usual. Like Ramonium being bent.
"I thought I had taught you better. Just shows that there's too much Perl in you."

Normally Hork-Bajir weren't intelligent enough to be assholes on purpose, but there was a one in a million chance for one being born with cognitive capabilities comparable to those of Andalite, and this one was one of those very few lucky ones.
Sometimes she wished he wasn't.
However... He was arrogant, too. And so he didn't expect her to keep fighting when he turned to leave the room.
Without wasting a second Delta took her chance and pounced into a spinning kick that slammed her trainer into the ground, rhis time pressing her own arm blade to his neck. If the Sinus would have had a face it would have grinned in satisfaction. Dak Hamee was a respected, insanely skilled fighter, but even the ship itself disliked every inch of his being. Especially the way he oozed complacency.
"Inattentive", she growled with a wry smirk before she let go of him and leisurely walked towards the exit, ducking away under a last attempt of the Hork-Bajir to swipe at her head.

From the training room she directly headed upstairs, breathing in relief at the sight of the vast garden. The water of a big lake was sparkling in the northeast as it reflected the glow of the lights shining across the Ramonite dome like three little suns. Elfangor had told her that they didn't just provide remarkably realistic sunlight but also were arranged to resemble the tree suns of the andalite homeworld, Nothlit, Elupera and Garibah. It was the only known case of suns circling around a planet, which made the Andalites view their home world as a sacred place.

When her forehead eye started to hurt, Delta realized that she had been staring into the light of Elupera's artifical twin for a solid five minutes, lost in thoughts about her pathetic performance back in the training room. Sure, she had won in the end, but only because Dak Hamee had been inattentive. He could have killed her right there, if he'd been an actual enemy.
Sighing, Delta shook her head and headed for the dining hall, a richly decorated building with a stone path and a fountain, serving everything every planet known to the Andalites had to offer. They loved good food. So much they'd probably risk their own health for it.

"Hey there", she greeted one of the cooks working in the dining hall with a small smile. Her full name was Aldrea-Iskillion-Falan, impractically long as almost every Andalite name. "C3-F-Delta!" Her dark blue face lit up with a wide grin as she greeted the Capricorn, as always using her full name, like almost every Andalite did. To them, not using the full name was impolite- basically an expression of not acknowledging every aspect of them as an individual.
"Have you yet seen Elfangor-Esgarrouth-Aximili? He wasn't here for lunch yet."
Delta couldn't help but chuckle. Almost everyone on this station knew that the two had something, but still she tried to hide it.
"No, sorry, I was training all day." The throbbing pain in her back was an effective reminder of her failure today. "Haven't you tried reaching him in the Neurolink?"
Basically the Neurolink worked like a mind-to-mind connection between the individuals on this station, all converging in the Sinus.
Aldrea shook her head. "He mentioned a meeting with Prince Asculan-Semitur-Langor. I don't want to disturb him in case he's still busy talking to him."
Delta nodded silently. Disturbing the Prince never was a good idea... Asculan was... He had a hot temper...
"Ah. He'll swing by eventually", Alrea joked, waking Delta from her thoughts as she pointed at the group of five Andalites waiting in line behind her. "He would never go a day without my fried Derrishoul stew. Now, I'd love to chat some more, but you know how hungry Andalites can be."
Chuckling, Delta took the bowl the Andalite handed her, containing something that looked like a stew of Pineapple, red pepper, walnuts and raw meat and left the dining hall to eat outside, under a tree by the lake.

She had just half emptied her bowl when an Andalite settled next to her. His light blue, slowly greying fur and shining golden eyes made him easy to distinguish. His presence put a smile on Delta's face, that had been stuck in a constant frown for the past twenty minutes.
"The Sinus is angry at Dak Hamee again", he mentioned with a chuckle, but the Capricorn just frowned slightly. "I just should've been better. I feel like I'm the loser of the Unit-"
"The loser?", Elfangor interrupted her with a small smirk. "You think I made you the second-in-command of your unit for nothing? Alpha is more experienced than you, but your strength lies right here-"
He tapped one finger against his temple. "Trust me, as long as your Unit is able to rely on you I'm proud of you. And no Dak Hamee in the universe will change that. Okay?"
Relief washed over Delta when she smiled back at the one who had created her- and had become her closest friend. "Okay. Thank you."

- - - - - - < Present day > - - - - -

Unlike the cryostasis used by humans, that resembled a long, dreamless sleep, basically a complete shutdown of an individual's consciousness, the Andalite cryostasis transported the consciousness into a pleasant dream, controlled by the sinus.
So when Delta suddenly found herself being caught in utter darkness where she'd been sitting by the lake with Elfangor like they had done so many times before they had lost the war, she knew something was wrong. The Sinus-!
At some point she had lost her sense of time; how long had it been since the simulation had shut down? A year? Ten? A hundred? She really couldn't tell. All she knew was that, at some point, and she couldn't forsee when that would be, her cryo pod would shut down as well. And if that would happen... End of the line.

She had just been contemplating where her consciousness would go if she would die here when something happened.
It was the tiniest reaction, just a little spark somewhere in the heart of ship, but it was there. The first thing happening in what felt like an eternity! It was exhilarating.
What was going on?!
Had someone woken up from their cryostasis? Had the humans finally found the ship?
Had-... Had Elfangor returned to take her home?! When the crew had left the ship they had left a couple of splices behind, as a tribute of some kind, and although Elfangor had pleaded to not leave her here the commander had already made his decision...

"Releasing Capricorn G3-F Delta", the robotic voice of her cryo pod announced.
Her thoughts returned to the here and now when she felt the room around her... Moving...?
Thanks to her Hork-Bajir reflexes her body reacted automatically, before her consciousness had fully caught up, stretching out her arms to avoid her falling flat on her face when her cryo pod opened with a hiss.
Her eyes opened slowly, but it took a while while until her vision cleared up. This just reminded her so much of her first awakening...
Her first breath in good knows how long sent her into a coughing fit that made her feel even dizzier than she already did. God if her head wouldn't stop spinning soon she'd have to throw up... She could already feel her stomach cramping up...
Something was nagging in the back of her mind, but it felt like hidden behind a thick fog that only cleared up slowly. All in all she just felt like a wet rag.

Slowly, carefully, she lifted her head to look up and found herself kneeling in front of a human, clad in... An attire that could best be described as odd.
However, she herself was wearing only a dark Grey and silver skin-tight overall that was soaked in the cryo fluid, so she wasn't really in any kind of position to judge the stranger's choice of style.

That's when her head finally really caught up. At an inhuman speed she scrambled to her feet, staggered and made a step backwards to lean against her cryo tube for support.
As her eyes met his, a bolt shot right through her core.
Golden eyes.
A picture of Elfangor's face flashed before her eyes and made her look away; it hurt to know that it wasn't her closest friend standing there, but a stranger.
However what she saw next wasn't any better. Darkness, the Sinus was inactive... And every single other cryo pod, too. Everyone she had ever known... Dead, some already for hundreds of years, as it seemed. How long had she been in there?!

Her wide-eyed gaze returned to the stranger, seeking his face like he could give her the answers to the myriad of questions going wild in her head. There was silence where she had heard the Neurolinks of her Unit, of her friends, family...
Her feet moved on their own as they carried her to a cryo pod eight feet to the left.
Alpha... The Capricorn she had fought side by side with, countless times. She would've trusted her with her life, after all she was the leader of her unit... And her sister, like all Capricorns. All born from the same DNA... And all dead, except for her. Elfangor would have been so disappointed in her... 'As long as your Unit is able to rely on you I'm proud of you', his words rang in her head. They hadn't been able to rely on her. She'd been peacefully sleeping while they had wasted away in those pods, one by one.
The emptiness settling in her mind was numbing as she turned to the human.
"How long...?", she asked silently. "I- what-... When am I?"
'In an emergency situation you can't let your emotions get the best of you. You need to act, in whatever way is necessary. Drowning in self-pity won't change a thing.'
Dak Hamee... She hated to admit it, but he had been right... It was too late for her Unit, but she had to act now if she didn't want the station to meet the same fate.
"The Sinus!", the words burst out of her, hoping that the human language was still like it had been when she had learned it through the Neurolink. "You. Please... Help me? Got to reactivate the Sinus. Ship needs energy-!"

 

[Jordan-RP]

Misha simply stood there, stunned, unable to tear his eyes from the creature. His shock kept him raising his sidearm and filling it with holds after it fell from the pod, the lack of anger and the confusion in the creatures eyes kept it there there, still held in a white-knuckled grip.
Despite the alien features, its face showed the same bewilderment his did.
"Don't—hold, don't shoot," he managed, one hand held up towards the fireteam.

The creature was a few words in before Misha even realised they spoke the same language, though his reaction didn't give any hint that he understood, he simply stared, trying to process what was happening.
"Boss... what do we do?" Butler said. Misha didn't have to look around to know he had the same reaction.
"Go back to the ship, get some mag-cuffs," Misha said, only half turning from the alien. He brought the comm to his mouth, forcing himself to use an even tone. "Contact. Standby."
"N-none of the consoles seem to have power, she... she might be right," Red said.
Misha stared at the alien, gun still at his side. "My name is Misha. We'll help you activate the... 'Sinus', only if you agree to wear some restraints...." His eyes flicked from hers—who had more than her fair share—noting the blades protruding from her arms. Even if it didn't mean them harm, it was clearly far from harmless.

 

[Kaya]

A deep snarl had rumbled in Delta's chest ever since one of the men who seemed to be under the golden-eyed guy's command had been about to shoot. She wasn't sure what weapons they were bearing; as it seemed she had been in Cryostasis for a remarkably long time, at least she didn't recognize their attire, their weapons... E even the language sounded a little different, though that might be due to the fact that they weren't barking orders across a battlefield right now, too.

It was barely noticeable, but when the... Captain? -The man was the captain, right?- asked her to wear restraints she couldn't hold back a bit of a disbelieving scoff.
He was kidding, right?
Inhaling deeply she ran her left hand through her hair before she crossed her arms, chin lifted slightly as she raised one eyebrow at... Misha.
"I am Delta", she introduced herself while her gaze once more wandered. A couple of humans across the room, more in the hangar, if she had to make a quick guess.
The hint of a knowing smile played at the corner of her mouth at the sight of their bared weapons. Humans... Still as militaristic as ages ago.

"So, you come into my home, threaten me with weapons - and still you think I am the one who should wear cuffs?", she almost chuckled while she watched Misha's gaze wander from her face to her arm blades.
They looked a little like the blade of a scythe, with an additional hook like the claw of a raptor where they protruded from her wrists. The razor sharp blades reached all the way up to her elbows and continued for about 10 more inches until they ended in undeniably deadly tips.

Sighing, she subtly shook her head. "I understand that my blades don't make you feel particularly calm around me, but you are threatening me right now. I'll agree to wearing the cuffs if it makes you feel safer, but I'm asking you to lower your weapons, please."

 

[Jordan-RP]

The echo of Butler's steps began to fade as the man headed for the hanger.
Misha was nodding back to Delta. "It would." he said, signalling to those nearby to do as the alien instructed. "When humans come out of cryo, we can be... unstable. Our technology is likely not as advanced. This is just standard practice, it'll make them feel safer. Then we can help each other."
Perhaps it was unwise to lie to the creature, he couldn't know for certain how primitive or advanced she was, though 'primitive' was the last thing that came to mind when looking at Delta. Lies that worked against humans might not pass so easily against... whatever she was.
He felt like he was walking a tightrope suspended over oblivion; what would it take for this thing to turn on them? Should he just shoot her now? Could he bring himself to do it without first understanding the situation, without knowing the angles?
They waited in one of the most uncomfortable, deadly silences Misha had experienced.

Misha turned when Butler arrived, every sense he had imploring him not to turn his back to the alien, but he needed to set it at ease where possible.
Butler held out the mag-cuffs at full extension, staring at Delta like she were a live grenade. This was a man who'd soon have had his own crew, strong, dependable. Misha had trusted him with his life twice, but here he looked helpless. He barely twitched as Misha took the restraints from his outstretched hand, Butler's eyes locked firmly on Delta.
Misha approached Delta, his expression was neutral but his breath held a distinct quiver to it. He considered asking her to put her hands behind her back for the cuffs, but the surety and poise that she carried herself with, the weapons literally built into her, the speed with which she'd righted herself upon being ejected from the pod... Misha realised that if she wished to kill him she could, restraints or not.
Misha approached the alien, nose wrinkling at the unnatural smell of the cryo-fluid that dripped off the creature. It had a pungent and sickly odour. He clenched his jaw, angry at the way his hands betrayed his fear, trembling as he tried to ready the mag-cuffs. Scared or not, it was the lack of control that disturbed him the most. That lack of control could lose you a crew faster than blinking, if they began to doubt.
She held out her hands for the restraints. Misha paused, gripping them in his own hands tightly to hide the trembling. He watched her intently, not knowing whether it was adrenaline or fear that drove him.
"Are there other pods besides these, Delta?" Misha asked, looking over Delta to the decay that inhabited the pods behind her. "Might we find more survivors?"

Misha made his decision, not knowing whether he was being calculated, or an utter fool. All he knew was that he would find out soon.
"I think we can leave these for now, can we trust each other that much?" he asked, fixing the cuffs to his belt and waiting for Delta to lead them to this 'Sinus'.

 

[Kaya]

Was he trying to butter her up by calling the Andalite technology more advanced than the human? There was nothing in his behavior that directly made her doubt his words, but her instinct was telling her that something wasn't exactly... right, about what he was saying.
A Hork-Bajir's biggest strengths are speed and instincts. Always trust your instincts.
Who would've thoughts that she'd once be thankful for Dak-Hamee's lessons... She'd just have to be careful about trusting those people.

As she watched the men fumbling with the cuffs, Delta actually started to feel a little sorry for them. They didn't exactly seem like they they'd been prepared for anything of this, especially not for-... her.
And wherever they had been before they had arrived here- they were spreading a faint scent of blood. None of them was bleeding, as far as she could tell, but something must have happened...
As Misha approached her, she purposefully kept her striking red gaze locked to his forehead to avoid his golden eyes that just reminded her of Elfangor and everything she had lost. At some point she'd have to face it and deal with it, but right now she couldn't afford a mental breakdown. However Delta also didn't want to stare at his trembling hands and make him feel even more scared. The usual response to feeling threatened was usually either flight, fight or freeze; and none of those reactions would be helpful right now, so she'd rather avoid triggering them- they already looked like they were close to shooting her out of fear...
All the more of a surprise it was when Misha unexpectedly put the cuffs away and said that they wouldn't be necessary. His question was a good one, though...

With a small, apologetic smile she lifted her shoulders uncertainly. It probably wouldn't work, but-...
Her gaze scanned the people around the room distrustfully before she slowly closed her eyes, trying to get some kind of reaction, anything really, from the Sinus or other survivors on the ship.
Nothing...
"I can't sense any connections", she finally explained as she faintly shook her head at Misha. "But with the Sinus being inactive I can't be certain. We need to reactivate it. Come."

With a wave of her hand she led the people back towards the stairs leading down into the hangar, where her gaze wandered over the andalite ship for a brief moment. A Kala Unit, built to be fast and agile, usually operated by two andalite and three Shorm. The scent of blood was stronger here...
A small frown etched between her eyebrows, she crossed the room and headed for the wall on the right.
Almost automatically, she lifted her hand and a pillar rose out of the ground, lined with the same, blue energy that powered the Kala ship. The holographic keyboard flickered as it appeared right above the pillar- it was clear that the ship was running on the last tiny bit of energy left.
Delta hurried to type the code in, her stomach knotting up from both, hunger and fear.
Only when a lamp in the wall lit up in a bright green and a panel slid to the side to reveal more stairs leading down even deeper into the ship did she dare to breathe again.
"Please make sure every weapon you're carrying is secured and won't go off- if anything happens to the Sinus- we can as well shoot ourselves right away", she said with a warning gaze towards the crew before she led them down.

The stairs ended in a wide hall, where, contained in a glass tube big enough to store a single-family house in, a winding network of neuronal connections and synapses reached all the way from the ground to the ceiling, its shape loosely resembling a person, in a weird way, curled up and floating in the anti-gravitiy of the tube.
Delta's voice was hushed as she explained.
"The DNA from which the Sinus was created was taken from the species the Andalite derived from. It's a recreation of their nervous system, and connects to the ship and its crew to feed it with energy and serve as a neuronal connection between individuals. A... A hive mind, kind of."

The thought of having these people in here wasn't exactly comforting her, but she figured that she'd need their help if she wanted to reactivate the Sinus.
"I can't activate it on my own, but whoever will help me has to establish a neurolink with the Sinus. It's not dangerous or anything, don't worry. Anyone want to volunteer?"

 

[Jordan-RP]

"I can't sense any connections," she'd said. He watched those red eyes intently, trying to glean something, anything from them that would give him an edge. They were too foreign to him.
Misha followed, reluctantly. "Standby," he said into his comm.
The chances of it all being a trap seemed far too elaborate, he felt safe discounting that possibility, though it did nothing to alleviate his trepidation at following Delta one iota. She could still be luring them into more favourable territory, improvising and adapting to her new circumstances.
"Why are we trusting her?" Yolina hissed as she fell in with the others. Misha turned, signing back to her and the rest of the fireteam: 'We're not.'

They fanned out in a practiced manner, standard boarding party formation. Misha secured his breather—which had been hanging loosely from his neck—over his mouth again, a faint suspicion of Delta needling him as she interacted with the hidden datapanel. Those of the fireteam that had removed their breathers now followed suit and secured them.
When the alien told them to stow their weapons, Misha turned to the youngest of the fireteam—and the youngest of his crew. "Caleb, go back to the ship, tell them what's going on. If this door becomes hidden again I want someone who knows where it is to come get us. Update windows are every ten minutes now. Understood?" Caleb almost melted with relief, not waiting a second longer than he had to.
"Aye, ye' will do," Caleb said, falling over himself as he ran back to the ship, one hand keeping the breather secured over his mouth.
In response to Delta's request, Misha just said, "keep the safety's on."
Even his crew's loyalty had limits, and asking them to secure their weapons beyond the safety was three steps too far. He honestly didn't care if they did or not, so long as Delta felt she was being listened to.

They made their way down the stairs, the air feeling utterly still, a bitter chill suspended around them. If there had been moisture it would have frozen. Idly Misha wondered about the fluid from the cryo-pod Delta had emerged from.
The temperature was forgotten as soon as Misha laid his eyes on the sight before him. The tangled weave of synapses forming a loose structure of a humanoid within the giant test tube—not dissimilar from the pods they had found Delta inside, but on a far greater scale.
As he gazed at the construct, Misha saw dim impulses firing within the synapses, like blood through the veins of a creature. But they were infrequent, faint. Intuitively Misha knew that it was a pale comparison of what it should be, despite the vestiges of life that he saw pulsing, he had the distinct impression of life ebbing away.
"Gods and machines." Yolina said under her breath. Misha heard the subtle click of her weapon's safety, though he didn't know if she were turning it on or off.
Butler looked wholly unnerved by the whole thing, it was likely outside of anything he could have imagined. After staring at the sight for a few seconds, he pulled his attention from it and scoped out the large chamber they found themselves in, as if pretending the spectacle before him didn't exist.
Red on the other hand looked like he'd just laid eyes on the love of his life. He stared open mouthed, his flushed cheeks visible through the breather.
"It's... that's... she's beautiful." Red managed, stepping up to the tube and gazing in.
Misha turned over what Delta said about the Sinus. A technology that functioned as both a power source and a supercomputer? What were its functions, was it biological, could it be harnessed, transported? The possibilities flew through his consciousness, his greed sparking to life.

"I'll do it," Red exclaimed, volunteering himself for the neurolink.
"No," Misha's voice was sharp. With effort he buried his other thoughts and focused on the here and now. He turned to Delta. "No, this wasn't made for humans, none of it was. You can't know it's harmless."
No alternatives came to Misha, the craft they came on didn't have any long rage communication device on-board, no clue of where they were, or if they could get the craft functioning again, never mind the ship they were currently on... but the thought of blindly trusting this alien... he wasn't about to do so simply on her whim.

 

[Kaya]

The crew's discomfort felt like static crackling in the air and didn't exactly comfort Delta. However, once more she was thankful for her fine senses- she could smell the adrenaline coursing through their blood, telling her that these people were far from calm and would most likely lash out if threatened. The countless hours of being trained by Dak-Hamee made her subconsciously think up a pattern of jumps, slides and attacks to kill them all in less than ten seconds, but she pushed it aside for now. A fight would only end in a pile of dead bodies and risk of her catching a bullet, both things she wasn't exactly keen on. If she could choose she'd always choose peace.
... Maybe there really was too much Perl in her. Dak-Hamee probably would've already attacked them.

Was the crew aware how much information they were giving away just with their reactions to the sight of the Sinus?
One of them seemingly completely tried to ignore what he was seeing-
His mind was like a fortress locked up to keep everything unfamiliar out. If she had to guess he was doing what he was doing either for the money or because he'd grown up with it.
Misha. He was staring at the sinus like a Taxxon trying to figure if what it was seeing was edible. There was something in his gaze, something both cold as ice and flaming hot. It sent a cold shiver down her spine.
The third man, another one whose name she didn't know... His reaction actually made her happy.
With an irritated gaze back at Misha she moved to stand next to the man. As she curiously watched his face the first real smile in what felt like forever crossed her face and the brief moment of happiness made her pale skin shimmer like mother of pearl. Like her ancestors from Mül the color of her skin often changed with her emotions, sometimes only faintly, other times more obviously.
"Look at the ground", she spoke silently. "See how the neuronal connections are weaving through it? There are constant, faint electric impulses running through them. If you'd touch the ground with your bare skin she'd be able to sense you and your emotions."
Her happiness about this man's fascination for the Sinus however didn't last too long - she'd still have to deal with Misha and his crew.
Sighing, she straightened up to look at him with her head tilted.

"Misha, am I really that scary to you?"
Now she almost sounded disappointed. Of course she understood why they all were so on edge regarding the whole situation, but she'd always been curious about the species she'd originated from, and she'd just... Imagined an encounter with them to be less cold. Stupid.
"I'm a splice, and most of my DNA is human. I'm not that different from you. So trust me when I say that the Neurolink is perfectly safe for you."

That seemed to calm him down a little, so she moved once again to lead the man who had volunteered towards a gate in the massive tube containing the Sinus.
"Try to be as calm as you can", she spoke with an encouraging smile. "Imagine you're welcoming an old friend."
As soon as they were inside the tube the Sinus moved. Two of the neuronal connections reached down from the nape of its neck, seemed to grow longer and stretch to connect to the bases of their skulls. As soon as the connections were established, a firework of impulses started to shoot through the Sinus as well as Delta and Red, bright blue light flickering through their bodies.

Delta, the two of them heard, no, felt, a gentle voice echoing through their minds. And you-... You are new...Red... Thank you. Delta, Red... I trust you to use my power responsibly.

The Sinus' connections to Delta and Red retreated and Delta led a slightly wobbly Red out of the tube.
You okay?, she asked him carefully through the newly established Neurolink.
He just nodded, Apparently still trying to wrap his mind around the new experience. She knew how overwhelming it felt at the beginning- he was able to sense the Sinus and its thoughts, the ship itself and the movement of the crew on its floor and even her own emotions, sensations and thoughts. It was a little awkward, but necessary, so Delta just smiled at him understandingly. Red, now able to feel that she didn't mean them any harm, smiled back.

And the Sinus... It was awake and strong as ever. Electric blue impulses fired rapidly through its synapses and connections, like a heartbeat spreading energy into the entire ship. Lamps lit, holographic interfaces flickered to life... The suns in the dome were shining on a barren wasteland.
The still was a lot to do, bodies to cremate, nature to restore... But it was a good start.