Winter's Heir

[Stephen]

“Alert. The DSRV Kelvin's Winter is dangerously off course. Widespread system failure has occurred. There are currently *ERROR* crew remaining. Requesting immediate assistance by any and all available ships. This distress beacon was activated automatically 131 days ago by an automated subroutine. This message will repeat.”



The unmarked Izshtar class cruiser drifted lazily through space, far from any established hyperlanes. Slender and sleek, the silver blue sheen of the hull blends well with nebula around it. 223 meters long, Kelvin's Winter thick cresent body cuts through space. Impulse thrusters fire occasionally, making automated course corrections as momentum carries it in the space between systems. Several lights still shine along the hull, flashing alternating light in the staccto pattern of an SOS. No structural damage appears on the hull and the ship appears entirely operational, save for the lowered sheilds. The ship does not respond to comms and does nothing to herald your approach.



A primary scan of the ship finds that the ships core reactor is still active and functioning normally. Lifesign readings fluxuate wildly, reading numbers anywhere between 13 and 40,000 lifeforms aboard. Life support systems appear functional except for the docking bay and the adjoined security clearance room, which are open to space. Heat scans show several hotspots scattered throughout the ship. The ambient temperature of the interior of the ship is 84 Farenheht. Any attempts to access the computer system remotely have been met with “Error, unauthorized user. Please speak to Captain David Hulburne for a security exemption.” As you match speed with the vessel, you can see a few starboard observation windows left unshielded, dim light barely edging past dirty viewing panes.

[Meira]

She'd been asleep, or nearly so, when the ship gave a sudden lurch as it dropped out of hyper speed. She sat up, then stood, rolling the muscles of her neck and shoulders out of their relaxed state. Something was wrong. It didn't take a Jedi's senses to know this; they weren't due to drop out of hyper speed for another six hours at least. She was no pilot, but Meira knew enough to know that an unscheduled drop from speed could only mean so many things, and none of the ones she could think of were good.

Stepping out of the small cabin that housed her bunk, Meira moved along the corridor toward the cockpit. It was a small ship, with the corridor length being only a few strides for her relatively short frame. She and Shatani were the only occupants, space a navigation droid that help to pilot the ship. Only the droid was in the cockpit when she arrived, but Shatani would not be far behind, Meira was sure.

She bent over the panel, reading the information the droid was displaying on the monitors; stats for the ship and the results of various scans scrolled across the screens. The recorded message came up over the speaker, and Meira listened to it carefully as it repeated. There was little more to glean from the message than what was spoken. Automated distress calls had many benefits, but they lacked intonation and background noise and these could often be helpful.

Footsteps behind her in the corridor alerted Meira to Shatani's arrival. She glanced back briefly as he entered the cockpit, but her focus was drawn back to the massive ship that loomed outside the viewport. "What do you think?" she asked.

[DreadPirateMike]

"I think that is a beautiful view out there."

Pertinent? Perhaps not. Helpful? A matter or perspective; Jaidan often found it wise to try and look beyond one's immediate situation and appreciate the universe around him. One of these days, after all, he presumed old age would make him wistful and nostalgic, and already, he'd seen much of the galaxy that he might later recollect. It would hardly do to fixate on the fact that someone had been trying to kill him at half these exotic destinations. At the very least, the scenery did him a bit of good in the here and now, a welcome change from the reports he'd been reading from the front. Grim stuff as usual. Despite emerging patterns which indicated gradually stiffening Republic resistance, it was more the rare pleasure of a glass of menkooro (The source of his momentary delay in arriving. Once it became clear, after a moment, that no emergency alarms were following on the tail of the unplanned deceleration, he concluded perhaps there was no harm in taking a few seconds more to finish it.) lightening the read than anything else. In any case, it was the only definitive piece of information his eye had given him at first glance, and the ship's sensors, theoretically so much more penetrating, presented rather a confused picture.

He could observe no indication of the "Widespread system failure" spoken of in the automated message. Yet if the problem had been corrected, why was the ship still adrift and transmitting a distress signal? Of course, such repairs suggested surviving crew, which would in turn suggest that their hails would find some response. And what were those hotspots? Onboard fires, perhaps? And yet the atmosphere was normal over there...if sensors could be trusted. He initiated a quick diagnostic to establish just that. He wasn't entirely certain what supply of consumables a ship like that normally carried, but room and board seemed improbable for...40,000? He made a mental note to bring a breather unit along before setting foot on that ship, just in case.

And that did seem called for. This would be up to their eyes after all.

"I also think we're an unlikely choice for a rescue mission of this magnitude." he added after the minute or so this study took. "I shall transmit a message of our own for the nearest decent sized Republic ship, with our current position and heading. It shall, of course, be scant on the finer details. I suggest we look to supplement it on the Winter's bridge?"

[Meira]

Meira smiled slightly at Shatani's comment. It was true enough. Though she wasn't much for romanticism, Meira could not deny that there was a certain beauty in the scene that presented itself through the viewport. The size of the ship, and its stillness in the black of space; it was fluid and almost peaceful. The flash of some of the lights broke that stillness, but if that could be ignored, the ship gave off the impression of a massive beast, fast asleep.

A few moments later, he actually answered her question and she nodded in response. There was no way only two people could handle this sort of job, but it was a good idea to try and see if they could find some more information. The uncertainty of the readouts they were getting from the scans was enough to pique her interest, as well as her caution. Something felt... off.

"Looks like we'll have to suit up." she said, checking the life support and hull integrity scans once again. "At least until we get past here." she pointed to the security section attached to the docking bay.

"Land the ship." she said to the droid, which whirred in response. "I think I saw the suits in the hold." she mentioned to Shatani before turning to lead the way.

Meira made her way back to her bunk where she retrieved her lightsaber. Her outer robe was left behind. If she was going to have to wear an environ suit, she didn't want to bother with the loose garment. In the hold, the environ suits were stowed away in a wall unit marked for emergency situations. There were four suits as well as a kit that contained re-breathers, an emergency medical kit, a small set of rations, and some scanning tools.

As Meira considered the suits, her shoulders sagged slightly. She was not a short woman, but these emergency environ suits were "one size fits all", which would most certainly mean a bit of discomfort for her. Sure enough, as she began to step into the suit, she found the legs and torso space too long and large for her frame. It hung on her shoulders and bunched around her legs. This would make moving quickly somewhat difficult. But hopefully, they'd be able to remove the suits once past the security area.

She attached the med kit to the belt of her suit, keeping the lightsaber on her own belt within. She'd be no good with the blade if she had the suit on, and she remained hopeful that its use would not be necessary. "Could you help me with the helmet?" she asked Shatani. The excess fabric on the arms made it difficult to lift her arms overhead.

The ship gave a slight lurch, likely indicating it had magnetically attached to the docking bay floor. Hopefully the hangar retained the ship's gravity. The thought had Meira noticing she'd used that word several times in her thoughts. Hopefully her optimism wouldn't go amiss during this little adventure.

[DreadPirateMike]

"Thank you, N-5."

This was offered in silent farewell to their shuttle's dutiful pilot, as Jaidan leaned against its chair for a brief moment before he followed off after Meira. In truth, he wasn't actually sure whether this particular droid model was adequately programmed to give a fig whether its function was appreciated or not, but the sentiment was consistent with a habit he'd generally felt it wise to cultivate as he made his way through a galaxy this big. He could spend the rest of his life and several more besides studying, and still possess insight into only a fraction of said galaxy's spoken tongues, never mind the complexities of the cultures which produced them. So, his solution had always been to simplify the interaction, and he saw no reason not to extend it to droids. Assume that respect was desired, assume it would be recognized, and assume it was deserved.

Once again, he would lag just a bit behind Meira, but to be fair, he had more considerations to make where his gear was concerned. It had been some time now, after all, since he'd been accustomed to arming himself only with the Jedi's signature weapons. A bit ludicrous, perhaps, that he could go out carrying one of the most powerful weapons in the galaxy, the power of the Force backing it, and still call that a "light loadout" with a straight face, but there it was. Sign of the times, as they said. Despite the wariness engendered by their failure to gain a clear picture of what was going on over there, part of him was a bit relieved to leave some of the trappings of wartime behind. Besides, he'd need to make room for other equipment.

The EV suit itself, however, did not bring him much by way of comfort as he put eye and hand to it. Part of that, he was willing to admit, lay in what the garment represented. He'd certainly logged his fair share of space hours, and it wasn't even the first time he'd had cause to wear one of these things, yet he still shared the instinctive aversion to the void with so many, and an acute awareness of just how thin a barrier against it he now donned. The Force flowed through everything, granted, but that didn't mean a being born to soil, breeze and sunshine belonged out there, in a place by its very nature hostile to life. The same was true of a battlefield, granted, but none of the training that might see a man safely away from there would make the slightest difference against some unforseen suit rupture. It DID cause him to silently lament the clumsiness of the suit and its wearer. The precise, elegant fencing footwork that he'd mastered over the course of twenty years' study would be...difficult to effect in magnetic space boots.

Silly concerns both, he knew, valid for no more than...what, a hundred feet at most? Even so, as he clipped his foils to the suit (Diminished utility or no, he preferred to have them near at hand. At the very least, he knew they'd not find a better cutting tool if they had to make their own way further into the ship.), the sight of his companion as she made her request did much to banish such thoughts. He felt for Meira, truly, yet the sight of her, looking like one impatient to inherit an older sibling's hand me downs...well, he did a pretty good job of looking abashed after banishing the momentary grin, and nodded hurriedly in assent to her request of help.

It actually proved a slightly trickier operation than he initially realized, on account of her longer hair. The bun was no issue, of course, for the helmets erred as much on the side of roomy as the rest of it; he'd already tied his own hair back on a quick and crude approximation of it with that in mind. But the side braids seemed determined to get in the way of the pressure seal, until...ah. Smiling again, maybe just a bit awkwardly this time, he soon found a momentary restraint behind her ears, and had the helmet sealed a moment later. Two minutes more, and he was suited up in kind, his share of the available tools hoisted over his shoulder.

"Depressurizing airlock." he spoke over the comm to their automated chauffeur once the inner hatch had clicked shut behind them,his heavily gloved finger found the release, and the vacuum came rushing in. And yes, he knew that description was scientifically inaccurate. But it was fitting all the same. "Please, leave the lights on."

[Stephen]

The dock hatch lie open. The bottom lip of the opening twitches silently, continuously trying to close and failing a few inches in. The upper lip remains stoic. The Kelvin's Winter does nothing to acknowledge the approach the shuttle, continuing on it's grim trek.

The docking bay is dimly lit by pale yellow light filtered down from 6 evenly spaced ceiling rigs. Under the lights, clouds of fine particles hang lazily in the nothing. The landing bay is clear in the center, with small plasteel crates slotted into indents on the floor in the back. The crates look securely closed, with 12 button keypads on the front. No signs of damage or recent habitation mark this deck, save for the broken door. The right side of the bay ramps upwards at a slight angle, before ending at a reinforced double door, flanked by two security rooms. The left side of the bay has a pair of hand pushed repulsor lifts, used to lift heavy cargo and a set of 6 lockers. Heavy canvas straps keep the lifts secure against the wall. Everything in the bay is covered by a fine dust.

The twin security rooms are identical. The square booths are level to the wall, despite the ramp, and employ twin support struts to keep them up during artificial gravity. They have plasteel ceilings and floors, as well as plasteel walls that end at waist level, turning into glass, or transparent plastic. These windows are also covered in a thick layer of dust. The outline of a computer bank can be made out within, but all else devolves into shapes. Both booths have doors facing each other, flanking the double doors at the end of the ramp. They are made of the same clear material and are accompanied by keycard readers. Twin high caliber laser turrets hang motionless from the underside of the booths.

There is no movement in the bay, save for the malfunctioning door and the silent eddies of dust.

[Meira]

She stood still, feeling very much like a child as Shatani negotiated the helmet over her head. The smile she returned to him was apologetic and accompanied a quick "Thank you." once the helmet sealed. She shouldered her own gear bag and then activated the magnetic boots, testing the strength of the pull by picking up each leg in turn to find the give point. She was lucky that the suits tightened at the lower leg and ankle area. Otherwise her foot would simply slip up into the abundant leg room of her suit and she'd be rendered effectively immobile. As it was, she found the give of the boots easy enough that she did not fear general mobility. One hurdle down, who knew how many to go.

As the outer door opened and the airlock chamber matched the docking bay, They got their first glimpse into the strange ship. Meira peered out, thankful for the large clear front to the suit's helmet that allowed for near complete visibility. The bay shared the same eerie silence of the all too near void, but there seemed to be at least some remnants of atmosphere as evidenced by the dust floating around. She checked the arm mounted scanner on her suit, but it seemed in line with the readings they'd gotten before docking. No air.

"Hmm." she breathed as they moved from the ship.

The click and thud of her boots sounded impossibly loud against the perfect quiet they moved into and she found herself stepping as quietly as possible, somehow unconsciously aware of the foreignness of her movement in this place. In comparison to her environment, Meira felt like a massively disruptive and invasive creature, disturbing some almost sacred serenity with her awkward lumbering.

"You don't suppose they left a key under the mat or anything?" she quipped, gesturing toward the heavy duty looking double doors at the end of the bay. She did not move directly toward the doors, however, but instead approached the crates secured into the bay's floor. She ran her gloved hand across the surface of one of the crates, watching the dust float up into the air as she did. The name of the ship, stenciled onto the crate in bright yellow was all that was revealed.

[DreadPirateMike]

"Hmmm, indeed."

It likely said something of their respective priorities that Jaidan's own perusal of the silent hold was a tad more cursory. It was not, of course, that he was lacking in curiosity, about the cause of the outer door's malfunction or any other potential insights this place might offer, as it was a case of one detail in particular commanding his attention more effectively than the rest. He'd felt instinctively vulnerable enough, made an easier target by the very thing he relied on to keep him alive, before he found himself under a literal gun. A pair of them, in fact, and heavy duty at that. He let his gaze linger on the turrets a spell, before he let himself be satisfied that they were as silent as the rest of the docking bay. Even so, he silently reached out in the Force, devoting a bit more of his concentration to his surroundings. If anything changed suddenly, he'd take all the warning he could get.

"It's possible." he allowed when he joined his sister Jedi, allowing himself to be relaxed a LITTLE by the banter. "This setup seems more for ensuring good behavior in business dealings than repelling actual intruders. Not that there isn't room for overlap, mind you. The question then becomes, where would you leave the mat in such a place?"

At that, he withdrew his off hand shoto, and approached the next crate over from the one Meira was investigating. Finding a way through those doors without having to cut their way through might be possible, with a bit of luck. But finding the key code written out for them seemed like asking a bit. He DID try simply pressing all the buttons in order, on the off chance that some ship laborer had seen a few too many goofy holo comedies, but it was not to be. And there was legitimate cause for investigation of the cargo. No broken seal was immediately apparent to visual inspection, but some sort of viral or bacterial infestation might explain SOME of this. Besides, if luck wasn't with then, this was the least of the property damage they might need to apologize for later.

No dice. Igniting his blade and bisecting the locking mechanism revealed only what he believed to be spare parts for a ventilation system. Filters, he was fairly certain, though his engineering knowledge could graciously be termed basic. Certainly nothing interesting enough to justify damaging the rest of the crates, in any case. Those half dozen storage lockers off yonder, however, seemed altogether more hopeful. Nudging Meira's shoulder, he nodded off in that direction, and made his way toward them, with only a slight detour to inspect the grav sleds.

Nice. Operational. He wouldn't hate not having to carry everything around with him. As for the lockers, they offered few enough surprises, though the glimpse into another life was somewhat interesting once he'd fought past his own delayed attack of guilt at the intrusion and voyeurism associated. Jumpsuits, the occasional picture of home, a credit chit (Alas, no pockets. Also, Jedi.)...ooh, and candy. Locke had missed out on this one.

"Bullseye." he announced at last, brandishing a pair of keycards with a smile. "Thank you, Zoey Claimsear. Let's hope these work, and we're able to say it to her in person."

His optimism was, however, obviously tempered. As he made his way to the card reader he'd spotted earlier, grav sled in tow, he pointed silently to the two laser turrets, before unclipping his primary foil and tossing it over. Meira would no doubt find the weapon awkward, if she was forced to use it in the immediate future. It was smaller than an ordinary lightsaber, designed to fit into a single hand, albeit one slightly larger than hers. Still, if the choice was between that and facing down a barrage of coherent enegetic oblivion with nothing but a few milimeters of mylar and dacron in the way, he felt confident they were of one mind on that at least.

[Meira]

She smiled at his response to her question, nodding her head at his observation of the security in place in the docking bay. Some defenses were expected, but she was fairly sure this was not a military vessel. Then again, Meira knew very little about such things. Her own experience aboard large military vessels was limited, but she remembered seeing quite a few more turrets. What they saw before them spoke more toward trade than war.

Meira stepped aside as Shatani inspected the crate. She wasn't sure what she was expecting to see when he forced it open, but spare parts was not it. Her shoulders sagged slightly at the sight. Why she was disappointed, she could not say. Perhaps it was just the general anticipation of their situation. Oh well, she thought as she lumbered behind Shatani toward the lockers.

Her own searching proved fruitless, but she gladly unloaded her gear onto the grav sled Shatani brought over. At his exclamation, she smiled again and began her slow approach toward the security doors. She caught the lightfoil tossed to her, awkwardly, and held it ready. Though, if she were being honest, she felt like she had when she was a small child and was handed a practice saber for the first time. Moving her arm in test motions, she was confident that she could at least protect her core. If the turrets were active, she hoped they were at least accurate enough to try for center mass, rather than a head shot.

"Thanks." she said. "But the sooner we can get out of these suits, the better."

They moved cautiously toward the ramp. Meira held all her sense tuned forward, ready for danger, but the turrets remained as still as the bay. As they reached the bottom of the ramp, she waved an experimental hand. Nothing. Turning to her companion, Meira shrugged her shoulders. The result was a less animated shift in the suit.

"That's a good thing, right?" she asked, unsure. While she was perfectly happy to not be shot at, she wondered if it was telling of the state of the ship as a whole. Was anything working? But she pushed the doubt aside. It was likely that the turrets were simply controlled from within the security rooms. Without someone to control them, they didn't function. Not surprising, or ominous.

To their fortune, the keycard worked. The door to one of the security rooms opened silently and Meira placed Shatani’s lightfoil back into his hands as she passed him and entered the room. It was dim, but she navigated to one of the terminals easily enough. It booted up slowly, but once it was on, the screen flashed and tones indicating trouble sounded enthusiastically. Meira stepped back a half step at the sudden light and sound, but recovered quickly. The monitor was indicating a malfunction in the outer door mechanism. She looked from the screen to what she could see of the door through the window, but the dust made the details unclear. The schematic on the screen was indicating a panel at the bottom right side of the outer door.

“Hey Shatani.” she said, glancing over to her companion. “This thing keeps flashing lights around some panel by the outer door. Do you see anything?”

[DreadPirateMike]

Jaidan didn't bother to hide his slight disappointment when it became apparent just what door this keycard opened. Any door opened without a lightsaber, which would have meant effectively creating a hull breach and hoping for the best so long as that outer door remained open, was of course a marked improvement over what had seemed reasonable to expect literally just a minute before. But as Meira squeezed past him into the security booth, the Echani looked skeptically back at the grav sled, clearly intended for the main doors. Pushing the thing across the length of the landing bay in essentially zero gravity had not represented any undue hardship, but even so, he considered the problem of dimensions from several possible angles, like a mover trying to conjure a big couch into position. He was even trying to see, to no avail, if the push handles might be detachable when Meira called back to him, asking about the malfunctioning door.

"Hmm? Ah, let me check. Perhaps I can still redeem this defeat."

It was relatively slow going as Jaidan approached the outer door, and more particularly the infinite abyss that said door should have been closed against, making himself satisfied that the magnetic lock on his boots was functioning perfectly with every step. It took an inspection of the entire lower length of the ship's entryway, but when he DID at last spot an anomaly, he was vaguely grateful. Space was forgotten, for the moment, as the nature of this particular mechanical difficulty became immediately clear.

"I DO see something. It's...a wrench, jammed into the gears, and pretty solidly too. I'm not quite sure how something like this could occurred simply by happenstance. Anyway, give me a minute. I'll see if I can dislodge it."

His initial efforts to that end, sadly, were less than encouraging. And it wasn't just a matter of brute force, either. That, a Jedi was capable of in an abundance not wholly dependant on their frame. But between the somewhat awkward angle of the wrench's placement, a prime contributor to his "Not an accident." theory and the lack of flexibility offered by his space suit's protective frame, he simply couldn't find a position that offered both good leverage AND a solid contact for his magnetic boots. After a couple moments of internal debate, he made his choice, and taking hold of the wrench, disengaged his boots. Pushing off softly from the deck, he was soon stretched out parallel to it, knees braced firmly against the wall and arms finally working to their full capacity. His plan was that bit by bit, he could loosen the wrench from its resting place enough to reposition.

The Force, in its inscrutable wisdom, saw fit to warn him just after the nick of time that he was about to achieve a partial success. He loosened the wrench. A lot. It gave way all at once, and Jaidan went sailing off into the cargo bay, new wrench in hand.

"Flaming Hell!"

After a moment to recover from his initial surprise, he tried to orient himself on something he could get his feet up against, and found himself square out of luck. He was completely upside down, twelve feet removed from the deck, and the only solid contact in his near immediate vicinity was the ship they'd come in on. That soon became his IMMEDIATE immediate vicinity; he briefly made eye to photoreceptor contact with N-5 through the transparisteel cockpit window, and had time to note that the droid could manage a surprisingly quizzical look before he made contact and was sent spinning off, ever further and higher. He then found time to wonder if there was any statistical chance, any at all, that Meira was too focused on the computer terminal readouts to have seen any of this. Or heard it.

Releasing the wrench into the zero G, content under the circumstances to hope it had done all the damage it was going to, he assessed his situation anew and concluded that inertia and the position of his limbs simply were not going to provide any imminent relief.  So, he looked to less conventional tools. Taking a moment to concentrate, he was immediately rewarded by the impression of his uncontrolled flight seeming to slow to a near stop, thanks to Force accelerated speed of perception. So, there was no resistance in space, nothing to stop himself on. But he could supply that on his own, and had done it more than once, making precision combat drops without the aid of a jump pack. Slowing his descent in such cases was a simple, if initially nerve taxing matter of creating a telekinetic "cushion" to fall into, and if he needed to change his trajectory...

Eureka. Extending both hands outward in the direction of the ceiling he seemed presently destined to collide with, he focused his telekinesis on a specific point about halfway there, and imagined a large sphere, perhaps the size of a large child's beach ball. Then, he concentrated harder, and that beach ball condensed, becoming smaller and denser until it was no bigger than a muja fruit. And then, he simply released it, allowing the explosion of telekinetic force to buffet him.

Too much! Experience doing this sort of thing under much more adverse conditions had betrayed him, and suddenly, he was deck bound at a speed he'd not find remotely comfortable. But his mistake had also imparted spin, and he was able to cancel out the acceleration with another, much more controlled telekinetic burst. It took him a few more tries to really get the hang of it, but soon enough, he found himself enjoying a good deal of control, the large docking bay giving him more than adequate room to work with. If he was being entirely honest, he took well more than enough time needed to figure out a controlled descent. But really, could he be blamed for it! He'd heard stories of Masters with such control over the proper disciplines to enable literal flight, and of course every child had at some point watched a bird in flight and dreamed. But when would he realistically have another chance to experience it for himself? Suddenly, his mind was opening to the possibility that perhaps the handful of spacer friends he'd known over the years had been right. There was a lot more out among the stars than simply cold and death.

Finally, he got just the right angle he wanted, and pushed off with his feet from high on the far wall. Halfway to his destination, he executed a graceful flip end over end, and landed in a crouch outside the security room door. He re-engaged the magnetic seal, stood up...and abruptly remembered what awkwardness was as he addressed his fellow Jedi.

"Um, try it now."

[Meira]

"Be careful"

Meira turned back to the computer console as Shatani made his way toward the exterior door. She certainly didn't envy the task, glad that she wasn't the one standing so close to the void. Though she traveled quite a bit in her duties to the Order, Meira realized that the dangers of space were very rarely so present in her mind. It was often only a few inches of metal that separated her from the unnerving emptiness, yet she thought no more of it than she did of her own breathing. This endeavor to restore the normal functioning of the ship's door made the fragility of her safety a little too apparent. She distracted herself by running a diagnostic of what she could access of the rest of the ship. She didn't get much, but could determine that, in the immediate vicinity beyond the bay, atmosphere and gravity were normal. That was a relief.

Shatani's words drew some of her interest, causing the young Kiffar knight to wonder what could possibly drive a crew member to sabotage the bay doors. Nothing good, that much was certain. That didn't exactly bode well for their search, but there wasn't much they could do about that. They'd simply have to face whatever lay ahead when they came to it.

"Flaming Hell!"

Meira's head jerked up at the exclamation in time to see a blur of movement through the dirt covered window. She moved, as quickly as her clumsy suit would allow, to the door of the security room and stepped out in time to see her companion collide with the cockpit window of their ship. Meira's mouth fell open in shock. From within the security room, a tone chimed, indicating the malfunction with the door was resolved and that it was ready for use. She was about to call out to Shatani, but noticed that he'd begun to solve his own dilemma. What followed, Meira could only describe as something akin to a child learning how a new toy worked. She watched, confused and then amused, as Shatani tried different strategies for controlling his movements through the hangar.

The computer was sounding again, and so Meira left Shatani to his acrobatics and reentered the security room to find that the systems had been recalibrating in preparation to restore atmosphere and gravity to the bay. An array of green lights indicated this work was now done. She turned at the thud that signaled Shatani had finally decided to rejoin her.

"Are you sure you don't want to give it one more go?" she asked, with a gentle teasing in her voice. But she turned back to the computer and activated the outer door without further ado. A loud tone sounded, over and over, as the bay door closed, slowly cutting them off from the expanse beyond. When it sealed, there were a series of hissing sounds as pressure was equalized and then a thrum that Meira could feel as much as hear as the gravity was restored. A final tone indicated that all was normal and Meira keyed in the command to open the inner bay door and then hastily moved to remove her helmet.

[Stephen]

“Equalizing internal pressure, Please wait.” The console flashed bold black lettering over a while background. The ceiling vent's coughed yellow dust as air was restored, the docking bay returned to life. The tiny sounds of an operating ship return, before barely remembered but now almost deafening. The speakers, now audible, blare loudly in a repeated loop.

“de twenty three. Repeat: Ship-wide code twenty three. Security report to bio-lab. Warning : Oxygen levels dangerously high, security regulations warn against open flame or temperatures above 400 degrees Kelvin. Warning : The DSRV Kelvin's Winter is adrift. All course corrections must be approved by acting captain Louise McClaire. Warning : All comms systems are offline. All personnel report to engineering for assignments. Warning : Ship wide code twenty three.”

The doors in the security labs open into twin plexiglas decontamination booths. The clear plastic panes of the interior doors have been popped out and lay in the next room, spider webbed and bent. The rooms beyond are a pair of laboratories. Two steel bench tables run the length of the long room, leaving off only the first three feet and the last three feet so you can get past them. Heavy glassware line the shelves, stopping every few feet for a sink or disposal. A few hand scanners lay errant on the edges of counters. In the back of the rooms have hardened plasteel vacuum receptacles, complete with built in plastic gloves and viewing windows. They lay open. The floor is hard tile and covered four or five piles of thick loamy soil. Mats of thick vegetation grow in the dirt. Blooming flowers and more than one type of fruit lay in a mess of wet tangled vines.

Between the two labs is a wide hallway starting at the double doors in the center, runs the length of the clear walled labs and into a T junction at the wall just past with Sliding steel doors at either side.

[DreadPirateMike]

"Uh...no." he forced himself not to mutter. When embarrassed, there was nothing so good at making it worse than advertising it...though he did catch himself pretending he'd suddenly spotted something very interesting about the deck plating. "I think that will suffice."

But if he was being honest with himself, the slight flush of his cheeks was well worth it. Like many Jedi, he usually tended to keep his reactions relatively subdued, momentary surprise or frustration notwithstanding, but he took a certain pride in feeling he'd never allowed his Jedi training to ruin his enjoyment of a bit of fun. And once he got the hang of it, that had been pretty fun. Still, that wasn't what made him reconsider the removal of his space helmet and put up a hand urging Meira to do the same, even after his suit's onboard sensors confirmed the atmosphere was back up to safe levels. No, that would be his sudden ability to actually hear the ship's speakers.

Space produced an entirely rational sense of caution in most sentients. And so did hearing 'Warning' and 'bio-lab' in rapid succession. That the combination immediately reminded him of that intermittent life sign count in the tens of thousands did not help matters either. In retrospect, however, he did allow himself to feel a rather profound sense of relief that they'd found those keycards. It hadn't been long ago at all that he'd assumed they might have to cut their way in. And he was pretty certain a lightsaber burned a whole lot hotter than 400 Kelvins.

"ACTING Captain." he reiterated gravely as he took a moment to study the console, and then opened the big double doors to allow the grav sled passage once they'd thoroughly investigated their immediate surroundings. The automated alert raised a good many questions, but it did nothing to make him think they'd not require the tools. After all, they knew now where the crew had been heading at one time. Engineering.

The relief was tempered, of course, by his lack of any other weapon currently on his person, save of course the Force. He could presently spot no sign of the security which had been summoned upon entering the lab for himself, but then no pile of topsoil had done this to the decon doors. Yet aside from the property damage, the unusually fertile soil appeared to be the only unusual feature of the space, and so he paused a moment to inspect one of the little pocket jungles with a borrowed scanner off one of the tables.  He didn't know if the results from the device would even mean anything to his layman's eye, but it seemed more promising than running his boot through the pile of "not supposed to happen".

"What were they DOING on this ship?"

[Meira]

Her hands ceased their fumbling at the seals of her helmet and her shoulders slumped at the sound of the alarm that filled the air around them. What had once been an eerily silent space now seemed oppressively loud as the recorded warning looped over the comms. Meira returned her hands to the console, attempting to silence the message. She didn't manage to turn it off, but she was able to lower the volume, which was enough of a relief.

With a sigh, she turned away from the console, dismayed at the continued obstacles. It seemed this ship wasn't going to make things easy for them. But they did have their re-breather masks. She moved to where the sled held their gear as Shatani moved into the bio-lab connected to the security booth. His comment on the distinction of an 'acting captain' did not go amiss; it added to the ever growing enigma that was the Kelvin's Winter.

Returning through the booth to follow Shatani into the lab, Meira noted the state of the decontamination booths that served as the access point from the security room. Whatever had happened, someone -or something- had broken into this lab through the security room of the hangar. A glance through the transparent panels and across the hall confirmed that the opposite bio-lab seemed to have suffered the same fate. Had the ship been attacked? There was no indication in the hangar.

""What were they DOING on this ship?" Shatani said as she approached.

"That's the million credit question." she replied as she too examined the plants. "Here." she said, handing him one of the re-breather masks. "I really can't stand this suit anymore."

Setting her mask on one of the lab tables, Meira once again reached to remove her helmet. There was a moment of hesitancy as her fingers hovered near the seals, but she pushed them open and there was a slight hissing sound as the air of her suit and the air of the lab normalized. Removing the helmet and setting it aside, Meira's first breath gave instant proof that the levels of oxygen in the lab were indeed too high. She expelled the breath, but did not breathe in again as she removed the rest of the suit and allowed it to drop to the floor. Dizziness came quickly as she positioned the re-breather mask over her nose and mouth. Once the device was secured, she took several deep breaths, bringing her equilibrium back into order. Well, they certainly weren't kidding about that. But she was thankful to be out of the awkward confines of the suit, and would gladly take the mask over having to wear the ill-fitting thing any longer.

"Right," she said, her voice filtering slightly mechanical through the mask. "Should we try to continue toward the bridge?" She turned her head toward the doorways at either end of the t-junction. One was bound to lead to a lift.