Spin Control [Attahox]

[Rugs]

Blue , Ghostie Harukei


“We’re stopping by Attahox. Not too far from your neck of the woods. Place doesn’t have much going for itself - nothing but fields of garbage, according to the reports. But a Hutt science ship’s stranded there, so we’re gonna see what we can see.

I’ll probably be out of pocket for a while. I’ll be careful. I promise.

Stay safe out there. Drink plenty of fluids.

-D3adb0lt”

Locke tapped at the edge of his datapad, wondering if he should add more to the email. Hyperspace’s blue swirled through the small viewport in the side of his small room aboard the Vigor. His presence was carefully reigned in. Present, but neutral. Couldn’t go letting his feelings betray him on a ship with three other Jedi running around.

“P.S. - Gonna get that howlrunner a green sweater once we get through all this ;P”

He hit send and the message was away to Lidah, wherever she was. Locke powered off the datapad and tucked it away. Look at you Nemsee, he thought with a smile to himself, Galaxy feels like it’s about to fall apart and you’re thinkin’ about damn dog sweaters.

His stomach shifted as the swirling blue and white outside gave way to inky black, dotted with stars. Locke sighed. Maybe taking a few moments of levity at the end of the days’ long journey from Coruscant wasn’t so bad.

As the ship captain’s voice sounded over the comm system to announce the Vigor’s arrival in the Attahox system, Locke began to change into a dark grey undermesh for his void suit.

He suspected there wouldn’t be much levity in the work ahead.

---

The Vigor’s main hanger thrummed with activity as Locke arrived some minutes later, dressed in his all dressed in his void suit save for the helmet. It was light, as far as space suits went but the Jedi master still felt like he was walking through some invisible jelly, even with miniaturized motors in the joints assisting his movements.

The crew had set up a briefing area near a small shuttle the Jedi team would take from the Vigor to the Bright Horizon. An officer--he was bent over a console, obscuring his rank for the moment--was getting a feed of the reddish planet from the ship’s sensors to a holoprojector.

The Bright Horizon was visible, a black object drifting in front of the planet’s face with a trail of debris strewn behind it.

“Master Nemsee,” the officer said, looking up as Locke whistled at the sight. He was Commander Kerrick LeKit, a middle-aged human man with dark brown skin and black hair with flakes of grey in places cut close to his head. He was tall, several inches moreso than Locke, and with a blade-straight posture that Locke could only imagine came from decades in the military.

Kerrick was the ship’s second-in-command, to Captain Cira Veila, who was overseeing the approach from the bridge. Kerrick’s face was perhaps a bit older than his years, the Vigor had seen heavy service in the war. Force only knew the stresses the man had been through.

“Commander,” Locke said with a respectful nod. He set his helmet down and pointed at the screen. “Our friend there doesn’t look like she’s in great shape.”

Kerrick frowned. “She’s not, unfortunately. This operation is going to be more touch-and-go than we had hoped, and that’s saying something. Captain Veila is positioning us closer so we can get a better read on it. Once the other Jedi arrive, we’ll begin the briefing.” He sighed, brow creasing. “Unfortunately, time is not on our side, Master Jedi.”

[Harukei]

Even as the hissing sound of hydraulics and machinery surrounded, there was only silence for the Jedi Master. He knelt, eyes closed as he opened himself to the Force with each breath and with each breath he prepared himself for the mission like how his ancestors of yore prepared for battle. The Shistavanen look every bit the warrior that his fierce demeanor would convey as under the robes that signified his allegiance of the Jedi Order and next to him laid the cream colored helm. His amber eyes finally opened, looking at the slowly assembling form of his lightsaber as the green crystal shone bright until the internal components and cabling that projected the energy into the green adegan crystal covered the light. 

The lupine Jedi reached for the weapon, his armored fingers slowly surrounding the worn hilt as his eyes began to appraise the reconstruction of the lightsaber to find a fault, or a change from the weapon that he had crafted over three decades ago. Unable to find anything to warrant his attention as deviant or new, Fal Tolvus simply nodded and rose to his feet. The massive figure of the lupine Jedi startling those crewman that had either ignored him, or decided to leave him alone in his deep meditation. He reached towards the helm, extending his hand to allow the ethereal pull of the Force to ignore physics for a brief second, before the helm was held in his grasp. Clipping the lightsaber to his waist and carrying the helm on the crooked of his arm, he carried forward. His eyes staring straight towards towards the shuttle that had been granted for the Jedi at the least for this mission. 

Fal stopped before Master Locke as he spoke with one of the officers of the Vigor. His sight diverted towards the shuttle, noticing the rough outlook that did not inspire any confidence in him. In fact he felt that jumping through the void with his pressurized armor than on the ship. 

"Master Locke." 

He said with deep voice as he bowed to the other Master on the mission and to the Republic Officer that had been speaking to his peer before taking another look to the shuttle.

"Is this our vessel? It looks.."

The lupine Jedi paused looking for the correct word.

"Worn, used? In any case we should not dither, where are the others?"

[Blue]

As the Vigor hurtled toward its destination, Moho smiled to himself in his small cabin as he contemplated how he had arrived at this point. There had been so much to catch up on since his return; taking to the Holonet had been an obvious step towards catching up on the big events around the galaxy. So when he came across a missive from the SIS while perusing in the Council chambers, asking for assistance in investigating a ship with possible information about Teth, and felt that oh so gentle nudging from invisible force, he knew it was a call to action he could not ignore. He had spent a good bit of time back at the Temple and had been getting into the swing of teaching again, but some things could not be so easily brushed aside. And so, the old Prellian was here, sitting in his hoverchair in meditation as they came closer and closer to, hopefully, some answers. The hum of the ship's heart pulsing power throughout the vessel, the creak of the metal walls, the echoing voices and footsteps all around, the sense of presence from his fellow Jedi. One by one, they began to fade away until a dark silence descended upon the old Jedi Master. He was floating, weightless, in the expanse of his mind. It was cold, and no lights shone. Until finally, a speck of illumination. Moho's consciousness rushed towards it and he saw a ship, drifting aimlessly and shedding debris in its wake. There was no sound, and no indication of anything amiss... and yet the Prellian felt a rising sense of chilling dread in his heart as he witnessed the powerless spaceship floating in the void. But there was something more. Something worse. Pinpricks of pain lanced through him as he felt some presence scratching at his awareness. The darkness rolled in, encompassing Moho and swallowing him whole. Something is coming. With a sharp inhalation, Jedi Master Moho's eyes snapped open as the comm system announced they had arrived at their destination. The perturbing vision played back in the old Prellian's mind; no substance, barely any imagery, just an overwhelming sensation of fear and of being surrounded on all sides by some malevolent source. In all his centuries of life, never had a Force vision been so vague... or so disturbing. Mulling that thought over, Moho began preparing himself for the mission to come. He gestured to the void-suit sitting in the corner of the cabin, a large and cumbersome item (especially so for someone of bulk like a Prellian) but one necessary for such unknown environs, and it floated towards him. The old Master arrived at the main hanger just as Master Tolvus asked his question and the Commander announced their time schedule. The Prellian strode forwards to greet them, his exo-rig clanking on the metal flooring with each step of his six legs and his void-suit's long flat helm gripped in its mechanical fingers. The thing had a certain elegance to its design, but all in all Moho preferred the hoverchair, as it was far less imposing. However, for exploration and investigation into unknown places, the exo-rig provided the manual dexterity and maneuverability required to be efficient. "Apologies for the tardiness, Master Tolvus, Master Nemsee. Commander Kerrick," Moho said as he moved closer, inclining his head to each of them as he spoke. "I had been... deep in meditation and I fear that I have had some unfortunate premonitions. The Commander may be speaking more truth than any of us know, and making haste should be high on our list of priorities, once we are all gathered and briefed."

[Ghostie]

Before the Alliance-Class Cruiser that was the Vigor had dropped out of hyperspace, Gaeriel had found herself on the flightdeck, in the hangar which held the shuttle the Jedi team had been assigned. If the Hapan was being honest with herself, it was areas like these, surrounded by fighters and other small manned ships where she felt most at home, when she couldn’t be piloting one herself. And if she was again being honest with herself, this wasn’t the first time that she had gone over all the internals and quirks which belonged to their requisitioned U-19 Skimmer. The old boat had seen quite a bit during the war, or so one of the mechanics had told the Jedi Knight, and caught more than its share of enemy fire on several occasions.

Normally, such a comment would have, should have, made any other potential pilot wary. But not Gaeriel. Instead, she took it to heart. It showed just how tough and how reliable the little shuttle was. And if the Jedi Order’s scattered intelligence about this new alien presence around Teth was to all be taken at face value, then reliable and tough was something the team was going to need. It was just a short jaunt over to the Bright Horizon and back. But if something went wrong, some sort of drastic failure on the part of the team, they’re be relying on their transport. And as the team’s pilot, Gaeriel felt that weight on her own shoulders.

And that was another reason for her repeated presence in the hangar bay, and working on the well-worn shuttle. Master Arckan had called it a sort of ‘moving’ meditation before, when Gaeriel had been training under her. The Jedi Knight was hardly one to stay in one spot for hours on end, and patiently wait on the Force. She focused best when her hands were busy, and she could clear her mind by focusing on work. No pre-mission jitters, no worries about what could or could not happen, no wandering thoughts to Ava, who was still back at the Temple. Sil had some great potential, but Gaeriel wanted the young woman to get adjusted to the Order, before taking her away from the Temple very much.

Finally, Gaeriel sensed another presence strong in the Force, just outside of the shuttle. A presence she had quickly come to learn as Master Nemsee. She must have missed the subtle drop from hyperspace, which would have signaled the warship’s arrival. Finishing with one cluster of wiring, Gaeriel extracted her small frame out from under the pilot’s control panel, and found her cream colored helmet on the chair next to her. The Jedi Knight was already dress in her matching void-suit, completely at home in the single, figure-fitting piece. It was not unlike the sort of suits she used to wear during the War, as much of her fighting took place in Space. Quickly making her way through the shuttle and towards the main loading ramp, she could hear a second Jedi Master, Fal Tolvus, speaking.

“Have some faith, Master Tolvus…” Gaeriel spoke in a light tone, almost joking, as she slowly marched down the loading ramp with her boots ringing on the durasteel. Her helmet was curled under one arm, just above her holstered blaster pistol, with her lightsaber on the other side of her belt. “... This tub has seen a lot, but we’ll get you over to the Bright Horizon and back in one piece.” She finished with a kindly, reassuring smile, and joined the ever growing group just as Master Moho was quietly floating over as well. Standing next to Commander Kerrick, Gaeriel almost had to crane her neck upwards to look the man over. But that wasn’t saying a lot, after all almost everyone was taller than she was.

“The shuttle is ready whenever you are, Master Nemsee. Fueled, prepped, and ready for liftoff.”

[Rugs]

A ripple in the Force announced Fal’s arrival as much as the Shistavanen’s footsteps across the hangar’s metallic floor. Locke looked over his shoulder at the Jedi Master, greeting him with a quiet nod. “Fal,” he said.

He could feel the High Councilor approaching as well--the last member to arrive with Gaeriel in the shuttle. “Looks like the gang’s just about here.”

Locke turned back to the shuttle at Fal’s mention of its appearance. It wasn’t brand new no, but nothing about it put Locke at disease for flying in it. “Well, at least it’s just a short hop over to the ship, right? Won’t even get an in-flight movie.”

Kerrick’s face remained carefully neutral. Locke guessed the commander was waiting for all of the Jedi to assemble before speaking further on the mission.

“Moho, good to see you,” Locke said with a bow that echoed the one he’d given Fal, if a bit deeper for the councilor. "Truth be told, I got a bad feeling about this too. Good to know it's not just me." He looked conspiratorially left, then right. "Thought it might've been the food, you know?" As Gaeriel stepped out and announced the shuttle was ready, Kerrick motioned to a screen.

“We all know the basis of why we’re here,” he said. “The Bright Horizon has been stuck in a decaying orbit around Attahox for some days now, and we know from some sensor analysis and the distress call that it was high-tailing it out of Hutt Space.”

The display zoomed in on the Bright Horizon, skating silently through space before Attahox’s reddish-brown surface. The debris strewn behind it spun slowly, silentl, as a pair of the Vigor’s fighters zipped through the image.

“We believe there is a survivor onboard the Horizon,” Kerrick said. “However, their communications systems have failed and we don’t have an alternative way to make contact without having people inside the ship.”

Kerrick sighed through his nostrils, lips pressing together. “Unfortunately, none of the intel we’ve gathered since arriving makes this mission any better. The Horizon took an emergency jump, and we believe its navigation systems may have been damaged before entering hyperspace. It came out well within Attahox’s gravity well and suffered extensive damage due to the strain.

“Beyond that, the Horizon is going to fall out of orbit soon.” A map replaced the live view of the failing science ship. A green ship line represented what Locke assumed was the Bright Horizon’s starting point, and wrapped again and again around the planet, moving closer each time. A blinking white ship icon showed the Horizon’s current position, with a dotted line carrying on a ways further around the planet before sharply dropping off to the surface.

Locke noted, with some concern, the impact point was notated with a red x.

“As you can all understand, time is of the utmost importance,” Kerrick said. “This shuttle,” he went on, motioning to the vessel behind him, “is small and fast. Both are important--speed for obvious reasons and size because we’re not sure how much strain that ship can take.

“We’re familiar with the design of this class of Hutt vessel, so each of you has schematics loaded into your void suits already. Your suits also have comms, to each other, and to us, so we can stay in constant contact.” Kerrick looked over each of the Jedi in turn, his face deadly serious. “Our mission here is to get in, get the survivor, and get out. Take note of what you see along the way, of course, but we can’t waste any time.”

Locke nodded, already starting for the shuttle. “Fair enough commander. And this survivor, they are—”

“The bridge,” Kerrick said. “The location has been marked on your map, along with the most efficient route from the hangar.”

“Got it,” Locke said. He stepped on the ramp, giving Gaeriel a pat on the shoulder as he passed by. “Come on then. Let’s burn some fuel.”

[Harukei]

Fal listened to the impromptu briefing that Master Locke and Commander Kerrick were providing. His stoic lupine face hiding the growing disquiet that the mission was simply fueling. The pragmatic part of him, the part that was a strategic warrior silently wondered if the inclusion of several Jedi Masters as well as the aid of the Republic's Navy was necessary for a single individual, of course his reasoning was not leaving a soul behind to die as gravity caught the ship and ripped it apart in flames, but simply to consider that perhaps a search and rescue team from the Navy or even the Army could fulfill the role. The Shistavanen could even think that a crew from a salvage ship could fulfill the same objective, albeit not as efficiently. 

However he kept those doubts to himself, locked beneath a razor sharp focus and the continual analysis of the information that they had. As he boarded the shuttle a part of him considered that the distress beacon could might as well be a trap. It could be conceivable that the Horizon was rigged to cause a catastrophic malfunction to its main power plant, creating an explosion that could cripple a ship, however as sound as the reasoning was, the Vigor was a single ship, whereas anyone trying to strike against the Republic would have chosen a larger ship against a bigger target and thus he discarded the first hypothesis. 

The massive Jedi Master placed his helm on as he stepped into the passenger compartment of the shuttle. The familiar hiss of the helm as each part of the armor he wore, pressurized. A stream of data and blue flickering lights began to illuminated his wolfish face as he began to cycle and toggle the intercom frequency. He stayed on his feet, even as the ship began the too familiar rumbling of the repulsorlift unit and the sublight engines came to life, in part out of custom, having done the same during the war when he had often flew in dropships and in part as well as the seats were too cramped for his physique. His body needing at the very least three seats for him to sit comfortably. 

As he felt the ship advance he braced himself. His right hand reaching for the webbing hanging from the ceiling as his feet pressed tightly against the worn floor. Through the visor of his armor he found Master Locke once more and the ever linger doubt of information came in once more. We need to know more. He thought before clearing his throat and dispelling the clinking and clanking sound that the ship did as it flew through the void. 

"Master Locke, do we know anything else of this vessel besides its origin? A destination? A manifesto maybe? Perhaps I am being overly cautious but it seems the information we have is scarce."

[Blue]

"You have all my confidence, young one," the Jedi Master said to Gaeriel kindly as she announced her intent, bowing his head to her. As Master Nemsee spoke, Moho acknowledged his words with a small smile, soon accompanied by a light laugh as the human conspiratorially whispered that it might just be the food served upon the ship. "If only all of a Jedi's feelings of foreboding could be put down to poor digestion", he said, amusement glittering in his amber eyes. The Prellian settled into silence as Commander Kerrick began the briefing, nodding at appropriate intervals and taking in all the information offered. In the back of his mind, Moho still felt that ticking sensation of time slipping by, a feeling with which he was not all that familiar with. He put that down to his vision; that looming sense of dread, of something closing in around them, a startling inevitability. However, he did not vocalise his thoughts, having already put forward his experience on the matter, and elected to remain quiet as the briefing was concluded. "When we find this survivor, I should be able to see to any injuries they may have, physical or mental", Moho said once the commander had finished speaking and the group of Jedi began moving towards the shuttle. "I would have no issue transporting them personally if they are unable to move under their own power, either. That should leave the three of you free, in case of some... unforeseen event." As they closer approached the shuttle, Moho peered into the inside of the vessel and shot a glance at Master Tolvus. "I certainly hope there is enough room for all of us to fit comfortably", the old Jedi Master said dryly. As both himself and Master Tolvus were easily over seven foot tall and had the bulk to match, things would almost inevitably become cramped if there was not. It turned out that, while not overly spacious, there was at least standing room for both of the larger Jedi. Taking a solid stance to avoid bouncing around the interior of the vessel, Moho attached the helmet of his void suit and used the mechanical fingers on his exo-rig's arm to grip the webbing as the Shistavanen made his queries. "As I understand it, Master Tolvus, the ship was fleeing from whatever disaster occurred on Teth," the Prellian Jedi responded. "I doubt that it had a destination much beyond 'far away from here'. But you are very right; information is thin on the ground, it seems. Any other details or thoughts you might have would be welcome, Master Nemsee."

[Ghostie]

It wasn’t the nearly crippled ship that gave Gaeriel a pause, nor it’s rapidly decaying orbit into the world below. It wasn’t the fact that the communication systems had failed, or that the void suits were more than likely going to be necessary, judging by the debris that the Bright Horizon had left in its own wake. What made the Jedi Knight pause during the rather clipped briefing, and fix her blue eyes on the Commander and away from the screen was the single, lone survivor. Gaeriel was a Jedi Shadow. By her very nature, she didn’t freeze very often. But the scattered reports they had heard coming out of Hutt Space about monsters, and now this crippled science ship from Hutt Space with a singular survivor, well, it was all very ominous. It was almost like something out of the start to a holovid.

That was when Gaeriel decided that perhaps she had seen too many holovids in her time.

With Locke’s clap on her shoulder, Gaeriel took it has an informal dismissal. She would save her questions for the ride over, for the Master. It seemed that Moho and Tolvus were thinking the same, after all. Rushing back to the shuttle first and climbing the ramp before the masters, Gaeriel had no intention of getting herself caught between what would more than likely be a sparring session of knees and elbows as a Shistavanen and a Prellian tried to make themselves comfortable in the small passenger hold. Walking quickly through the narrow craft, Gaeriel climbed into the cockpit, and found herself in the pilot’s chair just as the others were getting settled. Placing her helmet just on the edge of her arm’s reach across the control board, for the moment, she flipped a few switches and powered up the engines. While not loud, the vibrations from the engines could be felt in the floorboards under Gaeriel’s feet.

“Jedi Shuttle, you’re clear for liftoff at any moment. Good luck.” Commander Kerrick’s voice came over the comm unit for the U-19 Skimmer, and Gaeriel found herself instinctively nodding. Whipping her head back and around her shoulder quickly, the Jedi Knight checked that all the Masters were at least inside, if not settled yet. Seeing that they were, Gaeriel closed the ramp, and started her repulsor units.

“Copy that, Vigor. This is Jedi Shuttle, taking off.” And with that, Gaeriel floated the small shuttle neatly across the hangar bay, and out of the force field that kept the Vigor from the cold void of Space. The Bright Horizon was already dead-ahead from the hangar bay, and Gaeriel could almost set the shuttle on auto-pilot to get the Jedi there. If she didn’t absolutely detest the thought of auto-pilot, that was. Why let the ship fly itself, when she could fly it instead? Once the shuttle had all but cleared the Vigor, the Jedi Knight switched the comm channel over to a ship-wide P.A. system. It dinged a few times in a short musical tone, and her voice took on a light, professional air, almost jovial in nature.

“Thank you for flying Jedi Air, the number one source of transportation from the Vigor to the Bright Horizon. We’re about thirty minutes out from our destination, where the temperature is a balmy ‘cold as the void’, and local time is ‘how many times have we orbited Attahox, now?’. Your in-flight entertainment will be Master Moho rolling around in his hamster-ball of a voidsuit, and a meal will not be provided, unless someone actually listened to Master Nemsee’s request for snacks. Please enjoy your flight!”

While Master Tolvus might not take too kindly to Gaeriel’s joking as she finished her mock pilot’s briefing, the Jedi Knight had sensed nothing but the quiet tension of a wary mission aboard the shuttle as they took off. She hoped that her little jest could at least lighten the mood, some. At the very least, Locke and Moho would more than likely take kindly to it. But as the Jedi Knight finished, she could hear the Masters press their questions to Locke, and Gaeriel only half listened, eyes glued to the Bright Horizon as it grew every closer in her viewport. Once the questions were answered, Gaeriel finally piqued up with her own.

“Master Nemsee… I assume you’ve heard of these monsters on the fringes of Hutt Space, by now? Is it not a little suspicious that this ship is fleeing Hutt Space in their wake, and it only has one survivor? From what it sounded like, there’s no way to tell what that survivor is, exactly…” And with that, Gaeriel let her train of thought trail off, hoping that Locke would pick up on just what she was trying to imply; that perhaps one of these monsters had, in fact survived on the ship, and the Jedi were walking into an ambush.

[Rugs]

The shuttle’s engined thrummed as it lifted from the hangar deck and slipped out into the void beyond the Vigor. Locke busied himself with putting on his void suit’s helmet and locking it into place. The suit pressurized with a hiss, and Locke tilted his head this way and that after a brief stiffness. That accompanied its systems powering up.

A blue HUD flickered to on the helmet’s visor, seeming to unobtrusively over his surroundings. Power readings, oxygen supplies, suit integrity and so on. Locke couldn’t help but be reminded of the same process, just a few weeks ago at Kessel as Eye’s crew hurtled toward that doomed Hutt agri-station.

Things were different now. The stakes were much higher, for the Galaxy at large.

He turned to his companions for the task ahead. On paper, it seemed a simple job--get in, make contact with the survivor, get out. Easy, or as easy as anything could be with aboard ship falling out of orbit at thousands of kilometers per hour.

The questions voiced by Fal and Moho--two seasoned, veteran Jedi themselves--were evident that no one believed this mission might be as easy as it initially seemed.

“Honestly, I wish we knew more. As far as I’ve been told, we believe the ship was jumping away from Teth.” Locke nodded, affirming Moho’s words. “We don’t know if it intended to come here or if this is where their emergency jump dumped them. I doubt even the worst adrenaline junkies would want their hyperdrive to shit out right next to a planet, and that ship is supposedly for scientists.”

Locke sighed, leaning forward to stare out the shuttle’s front viewport as it glided toward the Bright Horizon. He gave Gaeriel’s question a long moment of consideration and settled back into his seat. “I think,” he started thoughtfully, “this is one of those situations where the simplest explanation is the right one.”

“But,” he added, watching a piece of wreckage spin lazily through space behind the ship, “since we don’t know for sure what’s waiting for us on there, it’s best that we keep our collective head on a swivel.”

The Bright Horizon, as it turned out, was falling backward through space. The cruiser’s hangar was located near its bow, where, Locke realized with some concern, much of the structural damage had occurred. The Horizon’s engines sputtered weakly in the front, powerless to stop its descent from grace.

“We have gotten some reports of an illness spreading in the wake of whatever hit Teth,” Locke said as the shuttle slipped into the hangar. “We don’t know what’s caused it, how contagious it is or how it spreads yet, but we make sure to keep our suits sealed while we’re putzing around in here. We don’t know if they’ve got air, anyway.”

The hangar was a mess. It was clear enough for the shuttle to land, but singed metal panels marked spots where power lines grew overwhelmed as the ship’s power systems failed. Crates and hangar supplies were scattered everywhere — knocked from their places as the ship had emerged abruptly from hyperspace and nearly torn itself apart. As the shuttle set down, at the Horizon’s deck groaned in protest, Locke noticed a hangar door on the far wall stuck ajar at an awkward angle.

Worst of all, was the feeling of something strange and alien and wrong on the ship. It was subtle--a nagging at the back of Locke’s neck that he almost dismissed as neves--but unmistakable if he focused on it.

“Alright,” he said, standing up. “As far as we know, the survivor should be on the bridge. You should all be able to pull up maps on your HUD, and we’ve pre-planned the most efficient route there.”

The ship groaned with the loud sound of metal forced to its limit. Locke frowned.

“If we get through this in one piece, I’ll get you all a drink of your choice,” he said. “On me. Whatever you want.”

[Blue]

The shuttle began to shudder as Knight Gaeriel began the procedure to send them flying into the void of space. Moho smiled at the young woman's public address antics, chuckling to himself when she mentioned the Prellian specifically in her impromptu announcement. He could appreciate the young Jedi's attempt to lighten the mood of the team as they moved forward into an uncertain fate; far too many of their Order tended to take themselves too seriously and forgot that a moment of levity is no bad thing. The old Jedi listened as Master Nemsee responded to their questions with few answers and much uncertainty. The unease that was still within Moho grew with every passing moment that brought them closer to the Bright Horizon, his gaze observing the slow pirouette of the vessel's slowly decaying orbit. He let out a gentle snort of amusement at Master Nemsee's comment. "Easier for some than others", Moho commented dryly, the ship filled with the metallic thunk of his exo-rig turning him to face the human since his neck had little in the way of rotational capacity. He proceeded to nod his understanding when the mention of the mystery sickness was brought up. While he was curious to investigate this disease (or whatever it was), he was no more eager to become infected with some unknown pathogen than the next sentient. As the shuttle started to settle down inside of the Bright Horizon's hanger bay, Moho felt a powerful wave of nausea ripple through him. Not from any physical sensation, no... a premonition? An ill omen? Whatever it was, it was a clear warning that things upon this ship were perhaps far worse than even their worst assumptions. With the small vessel docked and the ramp lowering, Moho turned and exited so as to make room for the others to do the same. He brought up the path they had been assigned on his HUD while scanning the hanger's empty, albeit chaotically messy, interior. "Come. Let us find our survivor swiftly; I am sure we are all eager to see this mission done", the old Jedi said to his compatriots, making his way down the route suggested.

[Ghostie]

The Force was as twisted as the hangar bay itself. It was the first thing that Gaeriel had noticed, as she swung the shuttle in for a landing. And judging by the sensations he picked up from the older, more experienced Jedi, she wasn’t the only one that felt it onboard the Bright Horizon. Something was wrong, that much was clear. As she brought the shuttle around and in for a landing, Gaeriel spun the craft so that it’s nose was facing towards the open void, and it’s landing ramp would extend towards the interior of the bay. Usually a simple maneuver, second nature, even, for most pilots. But with the nauseating, twisted feeling growing in the pit of her stomach and causing her hands to clench the controls until she could almost feel them turn white in the void suit, Gaeriel took things slow, as she tried to recenter herself and fly the craft.

Mindful of what Master Nemsee had said about some sort of sickness rippling through Hutt Space after whatever happened at Teth, Gaeriel secured the helmet on her void suit once the craft was down, and the engines were put into a standby mode. She wanted to voice her concern about this survivor that they were supposed to be picking up being infected with whatever it was that was making its rounds, but Gaeriel held her tongue. Undoubtedly, Locke had already thought about that, and made the necessary precautions on the Vigor. The Jedi Knight had no intention of helping spread a plague around. In a moment, her thoughts went to Agent Tav’zra, and how he was supposed to be working in Hutt Space lately.

As much as Kar’eth was a pain in the ass most of the time, Gaeriel hoped he was okay.

“Everyone sealed in back there?” She asked through the voidsuit’s internal comms. Getting a confirmation, he lowered the landing ramp, and watched from the cockpit as the entryway descended slowly. Letting the Master debark first, Gaeriel gave her equipment one last check, and the shuttle a final look over, before following her fellow Jedi out of the smaller craft.

The hangar was, for all intents and purposes, rather destroyed. Though Gaeriel’s Hapan eyes were virtually blind in the darkness, wherever she shined the headlamps on her suit, she could see twisted metal, blacked pieces of durasteel paneling, and all sort of various tools and parts rearranged across the bay in no particular order. Yet, there was some modicum of gravity, for as the Jedi exited the shuttle they didn’t immediately enter a free-floating state. That was at least a decent sign. Yet as the Bright Horizon groaned under it’s own mass and stress, Gaeriel immediately rescinded that comment in her mind, and then snorted into her helmet at Locke’s promise of a free drink after the mission was done.

“I’ve heard that one, before. Master Fyek still owes me twenty credits, too.” Gaeriel’s jab was a bit cynical, but still light as she slowly examined the hangar. Without waiting for someone to give orders, Gaeriel slowly started across the floor towards a door that was stuck ajar at an odd angle. One of them could probably fit through, and see if they could force the door from the other side. And it was on their HUD’s map as one of the most efficient ways to the bridge. Turning to Master Nemsee, Gaeriel spoke up.

“Someone could probably fit through and try to force the door from the otherside. Find a control panel or a circuit box or something.” Sticking her head through the door, the Hapan tried to shine her headlamps around, looking for the things she had suggested. “Might not be good to use our sabers to cut our way through a ship that’s literally tearing itself apart.” She tacked on almost as a second thought. Finding a circuit box on the wall to the left of the inside of the door, the Jedi Knight pulled her helmeted head out.

“So, who wants to go through first into the dark, creepy hallway and try to open the door for the rest of us?” Her tone was serious, but she already knew the answer. Looking at each Jedi Master in turn, her voice grew jesting once again. She was surprised to see that Master Moho was not, in fact, in some sort of hamster ball contraption for a voidsuit. Looking at Locke last, Gaeriel’s blonde eyebrows, almost the only thing visible under her helmet except her eyes themselves, dropped. “Oh wait, that’s right; you’re all huge and won’t fit.” Mocking a sigh, she turned around and made to squeeze her small form through the awkward opening.

[Harukei]

It would be wiser to have a biohazard unit come first. Fal thought after hearing Master Locke's words. Someone within the Republic Army Specialized with in Search and Rescue and a Jedi healer experience in biologic diseases. His amber eyes would look around, following the shape of his fellow master encased in their own protective suits. They were warriors, elders, scholars and diplomats. Perhaps not the best suited for the mission but all that they could muster at the time. Experience would urge him to act with care now that the possibility of an infectious disease being held within the Horizon was a likely possibility. His suit of armor would protect him from whatever lingered in the atmosphere and the Force would do as well, in the same way that he thought his peers would be protected. As the ship came to a halt he allowed the other masters to disembark first. 

Once he set a food on the hangar bay he would remark that it looked very much like a warzone. He felt the faint push of gravity against him as he took a first few steps as his eyes analyzed the fatigue the metal had experienced. Scraps had been left on the deck, faintly touching the surface. Crates of supplies were scampered over the floor like an oasis untouched by anyone. He walked close to one and began to revise its contents. Ammo crates, ration supplies, medical items. A whole different assortment of products that would have been suited for a military expedition or even maybe as humanitarian relief force. But that did beg to ask a question that had been coming into his mind. Sure there was damage to the hull, the superstructure of the ship possibly having suffered damage. But from what? There were no outer damage consistent with energy scoring nor missiles. And there wasn't even some scoring inside what they had seen in the vessel. 

"There's no one here." he said in a calm tone. "I know we're looking for a survivor... But I had braced for the likelihood of bodies."

By the second, it feel more and more like they were heading into a trap. As he followed the group his massive hand dove inside one of the pouches that hung from his waist and retrieved a small plastic tube slightly covered in frost, wrapping his fingers around it until a muffled crack was heard and a bio-luminescent green lambent was produced from his fist, creating light in the otherwise dark hallway. Cabling from the ceilings dangled, slapping against the plates of armor and body glove around him as the group of Jedi stopped before a door. With Gaeriel making a jest before entering into the ducts of the ship, he turned to his fellow masters. 

"The situation grows ominous by the second... Did any of you spot any damage on the hull? Bent metal due a concussive blast? Something to explain the situation of the ship?"

At the very least he wished to hear their opinion, to know what crossed through their minds and see if they held the same reservations that he had in his mind. It would at the very least make his growing concern into something could be useful to keep him wary and not the useless worries of an elder Jedi. 

[Rugs]

The hangar’s disarrayed silence was nearly the most disturbing thing Locke could imagine, given their circumstances. A science ship nearly half the size of the cruiser they’d arrived on, and not a soul to see. The lights flickered, flashing weakly on for a few fleeting moments and abandoning them again to darkness.

“I love dark and hallways,” he quipped too-cheerfully to Gaeriel as she started to slip through the half-open door. Locke could fit, though it’d be a tight squeeze in his void suit. The other two masters would have no hope of fitting through normally, though.

Locke reached to the Force once Gaeriel was through and the doors peeled open, with some protest, at a wave of the hand. He released his hold on the Force quickly — feeling almost nauseous from the strange aura permeating the Horizon — as he stepped through the door and motioned for Fal and Moho to follow. The corridor beyond was clear, though damaged.

“I saw plenty of damage,” he said, with a look back at Fal. “But with the ship falling apart, it’s hard to tell what came from what.” The hallways shuddered abruptly, and some low metallic groan off elsewhere in the vessel’s bowels seemed the ship’s contribution to their conversation. “But any obvious carbon scoring or signs of battle? Not that I’ve seen so far.”

“It is strange though isn’t it?” he asked as he walked down corridor. “A ship like this should’ve had a good number of people on it, but I don’t see anyo-”

Locke stopped as he perception — or rather, his body’s perception — of the corridor began to change. Down suddenly stopped feeling like down as forward began to feel down again. “The fuck?” he asked before a crate sitting near a door began to tumble forward along the hallway. The Horizon’s silence gave suddenly to a rattling cacophony as innumerable objects in the rooms around them all started to tumble toward walls, which were suddenly new floors.

Locke realized what was happening almost a second too late as he grabbed at the side of an open doorway, which was, unnervingly, turned into a ledge to stop what had been a walk down a hallay into an unplanned fall down a few dozen meters.

“The fucking gravity generator’s shitting itself!” he yelled.

A loud boom thundered from the hangar as something hit the wall hard enough to knock bits of paint off. Locke tried very, very hard not to think about it as he peered down into the darkness from his makeshift ledge. “You guys alright?”

[Blue]

As the four Jedi moved onward to their goal, Master Tolvus pointed out the lack of any dead bodies in the hanger. The Shistavanen was right, of course; there was no sign of life anywhere to be seen, not even a smattering of red or evidence of combat where it may have ended. It was yet another tick in the box of what was wrong with the picture they were seeing. The old Jedi had assumed that if there had only been one survivor in the efforts to flee the attack on Teth, the rest had died as a result of the unplanned and perhaps rushed jump to escape. But the lack of any corpses suggested a far more sinister chain of events. Moho took a breath and reached out through the Force as they walked, searching for any signs of life. He was met by a cold void of nothing beyond the comforting (albeit ill-at-ease) presence of his fellow Jedi. Worse than that, however, was the sensation he felt as he touched upon the life force of the galaxy; a scratching, clawing feeling that itched all over his carapace, like little insects attempting to dig into his flesh; an echo of what he had felt during his vision. But rather than immediately recoil from the alien experience, Moho pushed on, allowing himself to feel the off-putting spiritual assault. It was a singularly unpleasant sensation, but one thing was for certain: it reinforced his feeling that things here were far from what they had expected. "You are not alone in your unease, Master Tolvus. The very Force has turned tumultuous, and I fear we are no longer looking for a survivor at all," the Prellian confided to the group at large as they made their way to the hanger doors. "Though my instincts indeed tell me this is some sort of trap, it appears too randomly aimed to be as such. Most traps require specific targets and foreknowledge of their movements. The bait is present, true, but anybody, from a passing scavenging freighter to a Republic cruiser, could have answered the distress call and investigated... unless that was the whole point of the endeavour." As they reached the damaged doors and Gaeriel slipped within, Moho made sure that she was safe by extending his senses out to ensure that any malcious intent was felt long before it had a chance to harm the young Knight. The scratching sensation returned, only for the elderly Jedi to compartmentalise and endure it. It was unneeded, it would seem, with Gaeriel activating the breaker and Master Nemsee utilising the Force to give the doors a little extra push. The revealed corridor offered more of the same: telling damage, but no bodies or sign of conflict. The narrow passage echoed with the sound of footfalls, drowned out by the clang of Moho's exo-rig's metal legs. As Master Nemsee suddenly stopped mid-sentence, the Prellian felt the twist of gravity and stumbled slightly at the sudden change. He quickly compensated, but then down became forward and back became down so sharply he had only enough time to mumble "Oh, bother" before plummeting straight past his fellow Jedi and further down the corridor. Unperturbed, Moho called the Force to him. His descent suddenly slowed significantly, enough for him to jab the tips of his legs into the corridor walls without the act ripping them clean off. His powerful, metal-encased limbs pierced the walls in a shower of sparks and his fall ceased altogether, albeit with a somewhat ominous groan from the vessel. Of more concern to him was the racket made by what was presumably their shuttle crashing around in the hanger. The elderly Jedi leaned himself backwards to peer up at his companions, ready with the Force to catch any of them should they fall as well. "Somewhat awkwardly positioned, but otherwise unharmed," he responded to Master Nemsee. "I should be able to ascend if the walls will hold, but I have this funny old feeling we may not be leaving the way we came in. What of the rest of you?"

[Ghostie]

The Jedi Order, it sometimes seemed, was as vast and numerous as the stars, with members across the Galaxy and from all walks of life, species, and training styles. Gaeriel couldn’t rightly say that she knew every single face she passed in the halls of the Temple. There were only ones that looks familiar, and then those she knew as friends, mentors, and teachers. All this being said, every Jedi approached obstacles differently. For her part, the Knight was more keen to rely on the mundane and the physical; gadgets, technology, and the like. The Force was secondary, and only if she couldn’t solve the issue herself.

From the moment Gaeriel had squeezed through the doorway, she had a small tool pouch from her voidsuit’s utility belt in hand, and was already making her way towards the circuit breaker. Pouch in one hand and hydrospanner in the other, the outer panel fell to the durasteel floor with a light click sound. A few more seconds, and she was confident she could get the stuck door moving once again. As the metal hit, however, it was joined by the sound of metal groaning and grinding under protest as one of the doors was peeled back, making the opening much larger than the one Gaeriel had squeezed through, and bending the metal in the process. Looking over her shoulder to watch the debacle, Gaeriel could see Locke with his hand outstretched, as Master Talvus and Master Moho came into the hallway. Frowning a bit in her helmet, the Knight put her tools away, and tutted a bit into her helmet.

“Seems someone forgot their lessons on patience.” Her usually airy tone spoke. “Just couldn’t wait to see this dark, creepy hallway of yours, huh?” Falling into the middle of the group, Gaeriel join the Masters as they all started to make their way down the hallway. It was twisted and warped from the exit of hyperspace far too close to Attahox’s gravity well, and the lighting was dim. But between Gaeriel’s own headlamps and the light sources from the other Jedi, things were bright enough that she didn’t need to worry about her rather lesser Hapan eyesight. She slowed down just a bit as the group walked, and brushed her gloved hand over a particularly bad piece of warped metal in the wall, exposing wiring and other components. “I’ve seen some torn up ships, but never one that came out this close to a gravity well…” She breathed into her helmet’s comm.

The masters, however, were more intent on the fact that there were no bodies around. A fact that Master Talvus made light of just a few minutes ago as Gaeriel had been squeezing past the doors. The lack of bodies didn’t worry the Knight perhaps as much as it should, or at the very least as much as it seemed to trouble the masters. Gaeriel just quickly summarized that the crew had evacuated before their fatal hyperspace jump, or afterwards and were now stranded on the planet below. Either way, she didn’t sense any death onboard the ship, not tearing of a presence from the Force. Just a twisted, gut wrenching feeling that made her not want to reach out into the mystical energy field. Finding herself lagging behind both in conversation and the walk down the dark hallway, Gaeriel hastened to catch up in both respects.

“The hangar was empty...” Her voice was pointed and matter-of-factly. “... And I didn’t sense any death onboard. Did anyone do a scan to see if there were any missing escape - ?”

Gaeriel was cut off from her question about escape pods as the artificial gravity shifted itself. At first, she assumed it was just a spot that the Jedi were walking through which had been particularly hammered by the bad exit from hyperspace, and it would right itself once they passed through, much like that of a turret well on light freighters and such. But then the Knight’s feet started to slide, and she began to tumble, head forward into an awkward, unplanned somersault. Gaeriel barely registered the deafening clatter of countless objects in rooms falling to one side of the ship as she fell forward, unable to find her bearings to right herself. The thunderous boom of the shuttle falling to one side of the hangar was not lost on the woman, but she hardly had time for a what felt like a shot through her heart as she fell. Soon enough the gravity shifted enough to where the Knight was almost in a free fall, sailing past her companions as flying further down the corridor in both senses as she collided with a large being, more than likely Master Moho, in a tangle of limbs that was soon enough parted once again.

“Y’don’t say?!” Was the only thing the Knight could muster as Locke said something quite profane that caught even her off guard. Directing her tumble towards one wall, Gaeriel caught an open door with both hands and used the Force to cushion her rapid deceleration, avoiding the pain of dislocated shoulders. Her weight and the physical force of her fall caused the door to slowly but surely slide back into it’s frame, and the Knight soon found herself with a wider ledge to hold onto. Swinging one leg up, she straddled the frame, and caught her breath for a moment. Gaeriel was once again at the back, or rather bottom, of the group, just a few short meters below Master Moho himself, with had taken on the form of some sort of spider with his legs twisted into the metal of the walls.

“Okay here. Still in love with your dark, creepy hallways, Master Nemsee? Cause I think they’re falling for you, too.” With everyone checking in on the comm channel and reporting that they were fine, just surprised and a bit hampered, Gaeriel felt no shame about her rather sorry excuse for a pun. Grinning a bit under her helmet, she remembered the shuttle, and her expression slowly turned sour. “Think someone should check on the shuttle, and someone go see if our survivor is still okay? Or is this one of those horror holovids where the group splits up, and bad stuff happens?” Gaeriel was still rather confident that nothing was going to befall the Jedi on this mission worse than another bad fall or two from a spotty gravity generator, but her point still stood; they needed both an exit, and their survivor. And right now, the status of both were in question.

Retrieving her blaster pistol from her holster, Gaeriel removed the ascension cable attachment, and put the weapon back. Shining her headlamps high and towards the rest of the group, and the direction they had come, the Knight aimed for what could only be described as the least bit shabby looking piece of metal that could be used as a hook, which was the circuit box from before, and fired the cable. As the hook wrapped around the metal and secured itself, Gaeriel attached her end to her utility belt, and used it as a makeshift harness. Checking the line before she jumped into the new well that was once a hallway, the Knight ascended slowly up a few meters to join Master Moho and eye-level, both hands on her cable as she did so.

“Master, will you need assistance? Your legs okay?"

[Harukei]

The absence of gravity ended Master Locke's sentence prematurely and Fal found himself reaching for a ledge or something to hold on as his massive frame slammed against the walls as the metal bent upon impact and shrieked in protest. His massive hand reach upon a ledge, his arm muscles pulling him as he found against the sudden shift of momentum that he himself had experienced. Loose empty crates upon the deck that now had become a wall smacked at him and bounded of the armor plate before it all ended with a loud bang and a clatter of impacts that echoed on the hallway. 

Fal allowed a second to pass before he arose from a mountain of empty crates, loose equipment and detritus about on the ship. With a groan the Shistavanen finally rose to his feet, making circular motions with his shoulder until he felt the soft pop of the bone and the ease of the ache. We walked towards the group of Jedi as he looked at the bent that the sudden smash of his frame and mass had caused, bending the metal with a noticeable ease. 

"I am battered. But fine."

He said with a growl as the last of the discomfort left him and the cooling sensation that was the Force began to seep into him, lifting the pain away as if it were a balm as the ability to heal himself through the mystical power of the Force synced with the preternatural rapid healing of his species. His mind left the worries of his body to concentrate on the now. The task seemingly began to complicate and when Gaeriel emerged from the ducts and asked about the shuttle he had an idea of its condition. 

"Allow me to take a look to our vessel."

The Jedi Master said as he began to climb the all unto the doorway that led into the hangar with great agility. He pulled himself up to observe how the landscape of the hangar had changed. Whatever hadn't been bolted down to the floor had flew with the sudden change of gravity. Derelict tugs, machinery, crates, lockers and debris had flown and smashed against the wall, scarring off the paint. Scattered fires had began to burn as boxes of tibanna gas fuel had spilled and open before a fortuitous spark had set them alight. However it what was more telling was the form of the shuttle.

Fal sighed as he looked at the vessel, broken and bent. The cockpit had its plasteel canopy shattered while the sublight engines had broken off the been smashed and dented from what he could see, and the fuselage had broken in more than one place leaving internal components exposed and very likely unable to take flight again. Releasing himself from his perch, the lupine Jedi would climb down to where his fellow Jedi awaited for him.

"Unless one of us can jury rig the shuttle. She won't fly again."

He said grimly but honestly. 

"Hopefully there are still escape pods in the ship." 

[Rugs]

The rest of the group seemed to okay, at the very least, judging by their voiced responses. Locke pulled himself up onto the wall-now-floor with some grunting and turned around to take stock of his surroundings, such as they were.

The room seemed to be an office of some sort, though he doubted it’d see much further use beyond its current state. The desk and a projector of some sort lay in a tangled mess a few feet away from him and countless flimsies lay scattered across the floor.

Locke didn’t dwell on the disarrayed state of his new ledge too long as he leaned out into the hallway-now-well. He was the highest up of the Jedi, though Fal was clambering up to check on the shuttle. Locke figured that was an exercise in confirming bad news — most multi-ton vehicles didn’t take well to being thrown around in ways for which they weren’t designed.

Still, Fal was the best choice to check, and he quickly affirmed what Locke suspected. The shuttle was of no use. “That’s suboptimal, to say the least,” Locke grumbled, more to himself than the others. He stepped carefully out into the hallway-now-well, using the side of his doorway to prop himself up and plant his foot on the wall. His suit’s magnetic boot soles activated as he secured the first foot, then the other.

Sticking out into the drop like a plank was an awkward feeling, but Locke tried not to dwell on it as clink-clonked his way down the wall toward Moho.

“Even if we could fix the damn thing, I dunno if we’ve got the time,” he said, to remind his comrades of their race against the clock. “Still,” he went on as the ship’s map popped to life in his visor, “the escape pods are near where we’re going. If we can get outta this damn hall.”

The Force tremored as Locke reached the bottom of the hallway and deactivated his magnets to land on the wall of the adjoining corridor — which was now the floor. He paused, feeling a chill at the back of his neck.

”Why are you here,” a voice whispered inside his skull, carrying across the Force like dry leaves rustling on a forest floor. “Your song is discordant. Your presence is not welcome.”

[Blue]

As his fellow Jedi sounded off one by one that they were alive and relatively well, Moho did not even try to hide the sigh as the relief went through him. While confident in his own abilities to heal the wounds and ailments in himself and others, it was still good to hear none of them had been seriously injured. There was a short zip sound and a grapnel hook went passed him, followed shortly by the sounds of exertion and Knight Gaeriel's face as she clambered up next to the older Jedi. He smiled warmly at her as the Hapan asked after his well-being; now that the immediate threat of falling had passed, the Prellian did feel faint pain lance through his many legs. Mild tendon strain, most likely. Not unexpected considering the distance he fell and the weight his legs had to suddenly support, but with the Force and his mechanical exoskeleton supporting his limbs the vast majority of the potential damage had been mitigated. "I am well, Knight Gaeriel, thank you," Moho replied kindly. "Only mild discomfort, which I shall see to shortly." Of course, ever the teacher, he continued on another vein of thought. "Be wary in your movements; if the gravity has shifted once, it could be likely to do so again. And be cautious, something here is... changing the fabric of things, making touching upon the Force unpleasant. But I have nothing less than full confidence in your ability to endure." The sounds of Master Tolvus ascending and confirming the sorry state of their shuttle, as well as the appearance of Master Nemsee strolling down the unnaturally aligned corridor put the old Jedi Master's thoughts back on track. He gave a small encouraging nod to Knight Gaeriel before shifting his considerable weight and dropping down the corridor-turned-well once again. This time his descent was far more controlled and he touched the floor- or wall- with only a slight bump. Clunking a little further away to give more room for his fellows, he began to focus and feel his injuries. As suspected, it simply appeared to be a few tendons that had been hurt during his sudden stop. His body, like the others of his species, was quick to heal and was already beginning to heal the damage. While waiting upon the others to join them, Moho helped the process along, encouraging his wounds to soothe and sew back together. Within a few moments, the small aches were gone. Almost immediately after the Prellian finished with his minor meditations, the voice whispered directly into his mind: Why were they here? They were not welcome. Interesting... I sensed nothing aboard this vessel, yet something is clearly sending out it's thoughts to us. It would seem this was not a trap after all... or perhaps a trap intended for anyone else other than a Jedi? Though his initial instinct was to reach out to this voice, inquire why they were not welcome and how they might come to peaceful terms, Moho restrained his inquisitive nature. The way the Force felt here warned him that trying to link telepathically with whatever this was might not end well for them. Instead, he turned to his fellow Jedi. "I assume you all heard that too, yes? Curious, indeed, that whoever it is feels the need to forewarn us of their presence when, until just now, there seemed no life at all on this vessel. Either they are immensely confident they can eject us without needing the element of surprise, or else afraid we will achieve our objective and are attempting to ward us off with shadow play." After a moments pause Moho appeared thoughtful, then raised his longer set of arms in the Prellian equivalent of a shrug. "Alternatively, this might just be a polite request for us to leave that got lost in translation. Language can be a tricky thing, even without involving telepathy," the old Jedi continued dryly. He summoned the map on his HUD and turned it around in his mind's eye to reflect the new direction the faulty gravity was providing. "Whatever the case, we must press on regardless. As Master Nemsee said, both our objective and the escape pods lay in the same direction, and so that is the direction we must go." The Jedi's exo-rig clunked as he turned, making room for the others. Though the change in gravity had indeed made things somewhat more difficult, there was a small upside; there was enough room for them to move around one another now, despite the size of both himself and Master Tolvus. "As an aside, I would refrain from attempting to contact this voice in a similar fashion. I feel that it would be... unwise," Moho said over his shoulder. Though his tone was light, there was a serious weight to the words themselves that made it clear that the old Jedi Master was being far from insouciant.

[Ghostie]

“That makes one of us, Master.” Gaeriel responded almost immediately and without thought in her usual light tone, and a small grin hidden behind her voidsuit helmet. Master Moho was always a calming voice of reassurance. Gaeriel had never served with the Prellian on a mission before today, but she knew how he was in the Temple, while she was growing up, and it was nice to see that he had never changed despite the years and circumstances. He was, as always, a strong and unmoving pillar of the Order. As the Councilor nodded and started to make his descent, Gaeriel nodded back, but maintained her position in the hallway-now-well as Master Talvus reported that the shuttle was, in fact, crippled.

Though the news of the shuttle’s crash against the hangar wall had registered with Gaeriel as she had her own tumble because of the faulty gravity generator, to hear that the ship was well and truly busted made her stomach sink down and out of the bottom of her body. If the crew had used all the escape pods in their evacuation, their Jedi’s only chance of leaving the Bright Horizon would be for the Vigor to send another shuttle to pick them up. And that would be a tricky maneuver, even for an experienced pilot, what with the decaying orbit and all. If Gaeriel had the time and resources, she could have probably made their own shuttle limp back to the Vigor. But the Bright Horizon would be impacted on Attahox before that happened. As their options started to become few and far between and Gaeriel’s mind raced through each one, the dark coldness of the dualities of doubt and dread started to settle on the Jedi Knight.

And then she had decided that she had most definitely seen one to many holovids in her time.

Just as the Knight was shaking her mind free of the pessimistic feelings, and stretching her arms to relieve the soreness of her fall, it happened. A Voice reached out to the Jedi group as a whole, or at least, Gaeriel assumed as a whole. It was as if both a whisper on the wind, and the resounding authority of a being to not be trifled with. It both demanded to know why the Jedi were on the Bright Horizon, and was curious at their intentions. The Voice that filled Gaeriel’s mind both demanded that the Jedi leaved, and yet felt as if it wanted them to stay. Gaeriel in particular felt a certain warmth in the Voice. It felt as if Gaeriel and the Voice were trusted confidants, sharing an unknown secret while the Voice wanted, told, the other Jedi to leave. It wanted to draw her into the ship, deeper and closer to the source. All the Knight could do was hang on her makeshift rappelling harness and listen as the emotions and words both reverberated through her head, and sent a chilling, paralyzing tingle down her spine.

When Gaeriel had finally come back to her senses and immediate surroundings, she could sense Moho and Locke’s strong Force presences below her, moving about as Moho explained over the comms that it the Voice could simply be offering up a polite request, lost in translation. So it hadn’t only been Gaeriel who had heard it, and her unspoken question was answered before it had even been given form. Descending on her grapple slowly, Gaeriel’s feet lightly touched the bottom of the well with a soft clank just behind the Jedi Masters, and and she was quick about disassembling her ascension cable and all it’s trappings.

No smart, witty comment came as Moho mentioned not contacting the Voice back in the same fashion as they had been contacted. There was no quip about hallways and the like for Locke. Gaeriel’s face was set under her helmet, and her eyes were narrowed. Examining the map in her HUD, she was quiet for a long moment, before taking a few steps towards a portal that was situated in the now new flooring. The Knight was both similarly determined to see their mission through, and determined to get off of the Bright Horizon as fast as possible, and let that bodiless Voice burn upon the ship’s re-entry over the planet below. Normally, Gaeriel wouldn't be so shaken. But whatever this thing was, it twisted the Force, and was neither Light or Dark. It was powerful, and it was new. And she didn't like it.

“It would be unwise to linger, too.” Her tone was serious for the first time that day, and almost a bit hard. Kneeling by the door which was marked on their map, she keyed the controls, and it slowly slid open. “The more time we spend here, the more it’s going to try to reach out to us again. That's how those things work.” She said the last part a little matter-of-factly, with all the experience given to her over a career as one of the Order's Shadows.

[Rugs]

“As if my presence not being welcomed has ever stopped me from doing any damn thing,” Locke growled, with no small amount of indignation. Whatever was lurking on this ship didn’t seem to want them there. Locke took that to mean they were unexpected guests, rather than prey for a trap. Why announce that they were being watched before the trap jaws could snap shut?

Or maybe they already were.

Regardless, they were on the Bright Horizon now, and stuck on it as far as Locke could tell. “And buddy, you don’t want to hear my song,” he grumbled. Could the whatever-it-was that spoke to them even hear them? Or would they have to reply telepathically?

Moho’s advise to avoid responding through the Force seemed wise. Locke contemplated drawing his presence all the way in, but that seemed of little use, being part of a traveling quartet of Jedi. Nor was he so willing to dull his senses with this strange other watching them.

“Fair enough,” he said to Gaeriel. “And the longer we hang around here, the more likely we are to get turned into some bits of dust raining down over the trash fields of Attahox.” He started walking, his suit clonking against the metal wall that was now the floor with each step. “A nice postcard, maybe, but I’m not feeling it, myself.”

They pressed on into the ship. One corridor led to another and what should’ve been a left turn was transformed into a lumbering climb as the ship’s gravity remained quite comfortably uncooperative.

Eventually, they reached turbolift. They were to go up it -- or along it, as the gravity malfunction left it a glorified hallway. The control panel’s lights flickered fitfully and after pressing on them, Locke sighed loudly at the realization that they were just as useless as every other electronic on the dying ship.

Fortunately, the doors were jammed open — or stuck — and he poked his head into the shaft. The lift was on the far end — a few decks away from where they needed to be. Some other doors along the way were half open or shuddering every few seconds in failed attempts to close.

“Don’t see any way to get that damn thing down here,” he said. “Or back up if we did, with the power being shit.” He stepped into the shaft, turning up his suit’s headlamps to peer further into the darkness.

A strange dust lay heavy on the floor. He waved his hand in front of his face as his footsteps disturbed more of it.

“Way I see it, we can walk along the shaft here,” he called to the group. “Lift is in the way, but we can cut a hole through the bottom or find a way to move i-”

“TURN BACK,” the voice boomed. It was loud. It sounded angry. “YOUR SONG DISTURBS THIS PLACE.”

Something moved further along the shaft. Locke looked up to see some large, multi-legged thing skitter like a giant spider from one open doorway to the another, further along the shaft. Two of its arms (legs?) pierced the metal lining the shaft as it steadied itself and ducked into the door and out of sight. “YOU TREAD ON SACRED GROUND.”

The Force surged abruptly, and suddenly the lift was screaming along the shaft toward him in a shower of sparks.