Post by Rugs on Oct 15, 2018 17:07:55 GMT -5
The nearest cupboard turned out to be a closet. It was small but had enough room for the mercenaries to cram in. Io’an felt sorry for them. But he couldn’t argue with not killing. Surely they’d be freed later. Hopefully after the team broke out.
As the last guard was shepherded into the closet, Io’an took another cursory scan of their presences. They put on brave faces, but that fear, deep and animalistic, lurked below the surface. What could possibly scare hardened men like them?
As Brun-Tak closed the door and locked it — all the while extolling his own greatness, of course — Io’an glanced at Ava, wondering if she felt the fear that trembled deep within the men. Did she feel the strange and alien wrongness that seemed to waft like a bad odor from the lab’s core?
“Brun-Tak,” Io’an called out as the team leader started to stroll off toward the turbolift.
“Eh? What is it kid?” The Weequay seemed annoyed. “Time’s wastin’, and seein’ as none of us has been shot at yet, I’m not real keen on fuckin’ around up here.”
“The log...” Io’an hurried back to the terminal, where the data transfer had long since completed. He tucked the datastick into his pouch. “I haven’t had time to read in detail or review the video logs, but something went wrong here after they brought in that crystal.” His brow furrowed beneath his helmet. “Some of the logs said something about a ‘quarantine,’ and that mercenary said the same thing... And the Force is-”
“Look, kid,” Brun-Tak said, holding up a hand. “We ain’t gonna waste a lot of time here. We’ll get in, grab the damn thing, and get out. I’ve got a storage container on the speeder to put it in so we don’t have to worry about catching the jeebies or whatever the fuck. Now let’s go, before some more dudes with bad intentions find us.”
“Alright.” Io’an frowned but fell into line as the group headed off.
The journey to the storage room was as surprisingly uneventful as the walk into the lab. The place seemed to be abandoned. Io’an glanced into a few rooms along the way, where datapads lay abandoned and lab coats still hung from racks. A cold cup of coffee sat next to an open test log on a table in the first room next to the turbolift. It was as if everyone in the lab had suddenly dropped everything to leave.
For what felt like the eightieth time since arriving, Io’an told himself he didn’t like what was going on.
Things only got worse as they got closer to their destination. A stink filled the air, both literally and in the Force. Even the filters on Io’an’s suit failed to keep out the piercing smell of something rotting as Brun-Tak used his stolen keycard to gain access to the room.
A horror scene awaited within.
Fine white powder clung like dust to nearly every surface of the room. Three corpses lay on the ground, faces sunken in death’s decay.
“Fuck,” Io’an heard Brun-Tak say.
He bent over, fighting down the urge to retch and ripping off his helmet as he failed. The powder swirled around his feet at the disturbance, and the smell of death slammed full force into him without the filters to dampen it.
Worse, the Force was twisted here. Diseased. He didn’t know how to describe it, but the alien wrongness was .
Io’an blanched as he tightened his helmet back on. Some of the bodies--of dead scientists, if he had to guess, were broken. An arm was off there, lying beside the armless corpse as if it’d simply sloughed off. A foot was missing from another in the same way.
“You get used to it after a while,” a voice croaked. Io’an stepped further into the room to see a human man on the ground, back leaning against the wall. Blood stained his lips and chin. Fresh specks of it coated his mouth and dirty shirt as he coughed suddenly, violently.
“Don’t get too close,” he said. “You’re already too close. You should leave before the... the voices come for you too.” The man’s face was pale, sunken. His coat hung loosely on him. Io’an wondered how much weight he’d lost. “They come and go. Hard to make out at first but then you start to understand. ‘The Chorus’ this and ‘The Chorus’ that. Add your voice to the song.” He looked the group, but his gaze seemed distant, as if he wasn’t looking at them. “What does it mean, I wonder?”
Io’an reached a cautious, tenuous feeler in the Force to the man. Noise flooded his mind as soon as he made contact. A horrible, unknowable something on the other side seemed to turn its attention toward him. He shrieked and let the Force go, staggering back as if shot.
“We should go,” he said suddenly, voice trembling.
“Take the crystal with you. Damn thing has been more trouble than it’s worth,” the man said. He lifted a weak, quivering arm to point at broken crystal sitting atop a display in the room's center. “And mind the bodies. They tend to break apart.”
As the last guard was shepherded into the closet, Io’an took another cursory scan of their presences. They put on brave faces, but that fear, deep and animalistic, lurked below the surface. What could possibly scare hardened men like them?
As Brun-Tak closed the door and locked it — all the while extolling his own greatness, of course — Io’an glanced at Ava, wondering if she felt the fear that trembled deep within the men. Did she feel the strange and alien wrongness that seemed to waft like a bad odor from the lab’s core?
“Brun-Tak,” Io’an called out as the team leader started to stroll off toward the turbolift.
“Eh? What is it kid?” The Weequay seemed annoyed. “Time’s wastin’, and seein’ as none of us has been shot at yet, I’m not real keen on fuckin’ around up here.”
“The log...” Io’an hurried back to the terminal, where the data transfer had long since completed. He tucked the datastick into his pouch. “I haven’t had time to read in detail or review the video logs, but something went wrong here after they brought in that crystal.” His brow furrowed beneath his helmet. “Some of the logs said something about a ‘quarantine,’ and that mercenary said the same thing... And the Force is-”
“Look, kid,” Brun-Tak said, holding up a hand. “We ain’t gonna waste a lot of time here. We’ll get in, grab the damn thing, and get out. I’ve got a storage container on the speeder to put it in so we don’t have to worry about catching the jeebies or whatever the fuck. Now let’s go, before some more dudes with bad intentions find us.”
“Alright.” Io’an frowned but fell into line as the group headed off.
The journey to the storage room was as surprisingly uneventful as the walk into the lab. The place seemed to be abandoned. Io’an glanced into a few rooms along the way, where datapads lay abandoned and lab coats still hung from racks. A cold cup of coffee sat next to an open test log on a table in the first room next to the turbolift. It was as if everyone in the lab had suddenly dropped everything to leave.
For what felt like the eightieth time since arriving, Io’an told himself he didn’t like what was going on.
Things only got worse as they got closer to their destination. A stink filled the air, both literally and in the Force. Even the filters on Io’an’s suit failed to keep out the piercing smell of something rotting as Brun-Tak used his stolen keycard to gain access to the room.
A horror scene awaited within.
Fine white powder clung like dust to nearly every surface of the room. Three corpses lay on the ground, faces sunken in death’s decay.
“Fuck,” Io’an heard Brun-Tak say.
He bent over, fighting down the urge to retch and ripping off his helmet as he failed. The powder swirled around his feet at the disturbance, and the smell of death slammed full force into him without the filters to dampen it.
Worse, the Force was twisted here. Diseased. He didn’t know how to describe it, but the alien wrongness was .
Io’an blanched as he tightened his helmet back on. Some of the bodies--of dead scientists, if he had to guess, were broken. An arm was off there, lying beside the armless corpse as if it’d simply sloughed off. A foot was missing from another in the same way.
“You get used to it after a while,” a voice croaked. Io’an stepped further into the room to see a human man on the ground, back leaning against the wall. Blood stained his lips and chin. Fresh specks of it coated his mouth and dirty shirt as he coughed suddenly, violently.
“Don’t get too close,” he said. “You’re already too close. You should leave before the... the voices come for you too.” The man’s face was pale, sunken. His coat hung loosely on him. Io’an wondered how much weight he’d lost. “They come and go. Hard to make out at first but then you start to understand. ‘The Chorus’ this and ‘The Chorus’ that. Add your voice to the song.” He looked the group, but his gaze seemed distant, as if he wasn’t looking at them. “What does it mean, I wonder?”
Io’an reached a cautious, tenuous feeler in the Force to the man. Noise flooded his mind as soon as he made contact. A horrible, unknowable something on the other side seemed to turn its attention toward him. He shrieked and let the Force go, staggering back as if shot.
“We should go,” he said suddenly, voice trembling.
“Take the crystal with you. Damn thing has been more trouble than it’s worth,” the man said. He lifted a weak, quivering arm to point at broken crystal sitting atop a display in the room's center. “And mind the bodies. They tend to break apart.”
