Voices

[The Host]

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http://i255.photobucket.com/albums/hh126/silancy/title.jpg




It is a ship that had long ago passed into legend. Passed into song, myth, grand stories, and fantastic tales. Spoken of with a sort of reverence that transcended space and time, it tantalized with mystery and the unknown. The one difference that this vessel had compared to others in the same vein however, was that every single thing told of it was true. At its' peak, it was the greatest and only of its' kind, given status above all other ships that plied the spacelanes.

But even such greatness could not last forever. Even those immortalized in deed and word could not truly live on perpetually. Sometimes there is a fall from grace. Other times it is simply a fall. Those lucky enough are able to pass into eternity peacefully. It is a sad thing then, that this ship of greatness was unable to achieve that very same ending.

From the endless skies it came, kissing the feet of the planet Dathomir. The once great ship was crushed beneath Dathomir's mighty heel, never to rise again. And so it languished for centuries, encroached upon by the wilds it had landed within.

Year upon year passed, and as time stretched by the stories told of this magnificent craft spread throughout the galaxy, shared over drinks and meals alike. Told by the all, whether they were the lowest or highest offered by society, no distinctions were made. Interest and curiosity are two of the few things that make no discrimination in who they affect.

Everyone knew where it was; or at least, they knew that it was somewhere on Dathomir.



Why then was this great ship - this piece of history - seemingly abandoned, adrift and left to collide with one of the countless asteroids in the Borkeen Belt?

[The Host]

The Ro Tau was a medium sized transport, built mostly for exploration and starcharting. No one really knew what company made this particular type of ship, but most simply called it a 'jumper'. It seemed as though it'd always been around, ever since space travel became a normal thing. Given that, it made sense that 'jumpers' were often used by the Rebels in their early days, and even now it was many times seen ferrying Alliance personnel here and there.


http://i255.photobucket.com/albums/hh126/silancy/rotau.jpg

This particular jumper, the Ro Tau, slowly made its' way past the gas giant Yavin.

The crew, a motley assortment, had been chosen for what would only be a routine pass through the Yavin system, and then on outward to some of the more outer rim sections of the known galaxy. A blue milk run, they were only supposed to log sector activity before returning to their rendezvous point. There they would once more meet up with the Dauntless.


http://i255.photobucket.com/albums/hh126/silancy/rotau-cockpit.jpg

The small bridge was quiet, the two pilots not entirely focused as they went through routine checks, data entries, and sensor readings. The rest of the crew was elsewhere - they'd seen the massive, roiling gas giant before.

No need to see it again.

[Gral Hussar]

Gral's large eyes blinked away drowsiness as he sighed, one eye watching lines of data go past his nearest monitor while the other eye stuck to the forward viewport.

"Sector 716 passive scan complete. Ion wake eddies read zero. No sector activity within 72 hours."

In what seemed an exercise in banality, the Mon Calamari updated the scanning log and switched to a different sensor package.

"Beginning penetration scan of sixteen planetary bodies. Estimated completion, 45 minutes."

His barbels twitched as he pursed chapped lips.

"Feels like the environmental system's running a little dry."

[Sean Noorith]

"Don't blame me, fixed it just before we left." The voice chimed in from behind the two pilots before the human male leaned forward and perched both elbows on the back of the seat Hussar occupied.

Noorith took a few deep breaths, eyes wandering as he tried to see if there was any merit to the Mon Calamar's words. A small mark of annoyance crossed his features for a fleeting moment as the comment proved valid.

"Frakking thing." Sean muttered, quietly cursing the component he'd gotten second hand that he knew would go bad sooner rather than later.

He waited a beat to see if the other pilot would chime in, or if Hussar would retort, forgetting the real reason he came up to the cockpit: probably boredom. The faulty environmental system was both a blessing and a curse at that point, at least it gave the mechanic something to do while they ran the monotonous mission.

[Dyans Orion]

Lt. Orion stared up at the bunk above her were the picture of her daughter Eliza was. It was held there by a small crevice between frame and mattress. Dyans laid there staring at envisioning the next time she would see her little girl. Minutes pasted Lt. Orion began to slowly drift off into the land of nod. She quickly jolted back awake like everyone does when there trying not to fall asleep but do anyway.

"Mom will be home soon enough." She spoke to the picture with a laugh as she sat up. "But right mom needs some Jawa Juice."


Dy slipped on her boots and laced them up quickly. She slipped out into the main small walk way that lead to either the engine room or bridge with a few places in between. The jawa juice was usually in a small rec room just before the bridge if anyone bothered to make it. Dy made her way in that direction seeing Mr. Noorith bothering the pilot and co-pilot.

"Hello." She nodded giving Sean and the pilot he was talking to a nod. "Any of you lazy nerfs make a pot of juice or am I gonna have to again?"

[Vega Van-Derveld]

The Shooting Star entered the space at the edge of the Borkeen Belt with a brief, yet brilliant, burst of light that trailed behind it like the flaming tail of a meteorite. Within an instant, the sensors that made up the eyes and ears of the ships sentient droid-brain were open, aware. In every imaginable path, colossal stone planetoids moved in their ponderous, perilous, drift. The streamline hull of the Star rolled this way and pitched that, with the groan of an old galleon rising and falling on the swell of the sea. At the helm, with dark rings around bloodless eyes, Vega Van-Derveld watched, and listened - hearing more than the pops and creaks of a battle-scarred courier of the Alliance, hearing the pulse in his blood.

“Beginning atmospheric auto-correction. Adjusting course, bearing zero-six-zero carom three-zero-eight. Recalibrating control variables. Plotting new trajectory...”

The voice of the droid-brain fell silent, as the decades old freighter ran computations it had not struggled with since before the Battle of Endor. In the quiet, with only the hum of the hyper-drive to chase away the absolute silence of space, the mechanical wheeze of each breath drawn through the Sith's vocaliser sounded like the last breath of a dying man. His bone-white eyes searched the asteroid belt, unable distinguish the battered hull of the Ro Tau from the tonnes of space debris that stood between it and the Shooting Star...

[Gral Hussar]

"I'll do it."

It was license enough for Gral to do something, and since there was absolutely nothing going on up front, he set his terminal into idle and rose from his seat.

"Besides, I'd better balm up since the humidity's out again."

He'd taken three steps when the sensors pinged. His bulbous eyes swiveled back, and with a quizzical expression from his barbels, he again eased himself back into his seat.

"Nevermind that. Huh."

His fingers danced at his terminal, tracing a box around a patch of benign-looking space to bring up on magnification.

"We've just got a realspace insertion, bearing three zero zero mark zero five two."

[Sean Noorith]

As the Mon Calamari pilot had gotten to his feet, a wave of relief passed over Noorith that someone else had volunteered to appease the Lieutenant. Why anyone would want to drink the nonalcoholic variety of Jawa Juice was far beyond his comprehension. He'd personally vowed to never make the stuff and it was looking dangerously like he might be roped into it.

...and then the sensor had gone off. While the aspect of another ship appearing was intriguing, it wasn't his responsibility. It didn't stop a half-hearted "Huh..." leave him though.

"Well at least that should liven things up a bit, yeah?"

Of course that meant the whole juice thing was back up in the air and Hussar was off the hook. Though speaking of air...

"Well you people have fun finding out what they're doing. I'm gonna go kick the filters around a bit and see if they'll play nice or if the system wants to keep trying to turn us all into jerky."

He gave a brief smile of triumph to Orion before not-quite-scurrying off to avoid any remarks about how Sean seemed to posses the unique ability to vanish whenever the Lieutenant needed something.

[Dyans Orion]

Orion rolled her eyes as Sean passed by her with his small smile of success. Then just shook her head with a smile of her own as he kept on walking. She took one look back before his disappeared around a bend taking a view of one of his better attributes.

She turned back to Gral who was furiously working to find out what was setting the sensors off. Dyans moved into the nearby room with the juice maker not seemingly too worried about what was out there. Just like the last thirty or so times one sensor or another went off it was more than likely a false alarm.

"So what do we have this time Hussar? A radar glitch, space junk causing problems, or something real maybe this time?" She laughed to herself a little bit before starting to prepare the juice. "I mean a girl can dream for a little excitement right?"

[Vega Van-Derveld]

With the deliberate slowness that came from truly savouring a moment in time, Van-Derveld pressed the tip of one finger across a button on the console in front of him. The Shooting Star opened a broadcast channel to any and all star ships in the system, carrying with it the maliciously monotonous mechanical voice of Vega Van-Derveld.

“Come out... come out... wherever you are.”

[Gral Hussar]

"I think you just got your wish, Dyans."

It was a ship, but of a design the Mon Calamari wasn't familar with. That in and of itself was a surprise, as Gral fancied himself a bit of a ship wonk.

"Any of you seen anything like this before?"

He punched up a scan of the vessel, which filled a nearby computer terminal. It's hull was sleek and refined, and almost looked organic. Gral was a bit impressed. It was almost like a touch of home.

"I'm sending telemetry back to Dauntless. Might be worth checking out."

The comm opened up, and a twisted, malevolent voice filled the cockpit.

[Sean Noorith]

He hadn't gotten too far from the cockpit when the, what Sean could best describe as an evil droid, spoke and it's voice seemed to carry throughout the Ro Tau. What may have seemed comical at any other point in time now sent chills through his spine and he began walking slowly back towards where the majority of the crew was, curiosity outweighing duty.

"Black bones, what the hell was that?" A glance at the sensors only provided some information, enough that Sean could figure out there was a ship out there. "We got a pirate with a freaky sense of humor or something?"

[Dyans Orion]

Dyans jumped where she stood as the creepy voice projected itself across the Ro Tau comm system startled her. As soldier she felt a bit embarrassed by it knowing that she should be ready for anything. However most of this trip had been uneventful for her and she had gotten a bit lax.

It took a few moment before jumping into action quickly moving to the cockpit where Gral was. Looking out at space then at the Grals screen to see if she could recognize the ship. If was pirates they usually had marking of some kind the arrogant scumbags that they were always wanted you to remember them.

"Do you know what kind of ship that is and how long before that ship reaches us Gral?"