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The Macro AI began carrying out the instructions, accessing the salvage vessel's systems to pull the needed data. Meanwhile, the sweep by the Spartan would reveal that the ship was devoid of anyone else; he was the only person, living or dead, on the Beatrice.
During his sweep of the salvage vessel, the Spartan would be notified that the transponder signals had been found; all four were deep inside the derelict. Progress of the Beatrice's log files reconstruction would take some time, but it was doable. In the meantime, the only other place now was the derelict itself.
A burst of compressed air was ejected as soon as the panel was pressed, the circular layered panel door slowly retracting like an iris to reveal another such door at the other end of a five meter chamber. Once the four panels withdrew, a small screen at the other door blinked on, indicating it was ready for entry and resealing behind them.
And it now was obvious upon further scans that the ship was in fact at minimal power usage. Such meant that primary life support was also merely in shut down until reactivated.
the things that you might like don't grow inside of me
Moving through the ship with one hand on his SMG but otherwise keeping the weapon lowered, Vincent wasn't at all surprised to find that he was alone aboard the Beatrice. Part of him was hoping to be surprised even if it was by a corpse, but that would've flown in direct contrast to his earlier assumptions and the evidence gathered so far. The only real upside to his time spent perusing the ship's interior had to be that it wasn't time spent aboard the derelict - Vincent had never been comfortable with unknowns, and that was all the enormous wreck was. The only certainty at this point was that he didn't want to be there, although as the SinoViet ship's last room was cleared that lingering possibility would shift into an eventuality.
At the very least it seemed that he wasn't the only one on edge.
While it was unfortunate that the airlock's activity had been detected during his spacewalk it at least seemed like they still hadn't picked up on the fact that their transmissions were being listened and watched - not that they'd have any way of knowing unless Vincent himself contributed something to it, but that wasn't his main concern. The other boarding team's leader seemed to be just as on edge as he was, and while Vincent didn't understand some of the terms or reasoning used it seemed as though Lockheed had slightly more concrete reasoning for that feeling than he did. Why she was planting charges on an unlocked door was beyond him, though, and the Spartan was all but ready to write off whatever lifesign they had detected before her companion simply opened the door the correct way using the control panel instead.
As they did so, however, a thought occurred to Vincent. Several, in fact, as Patch spoke up.
"Transponders located. Using telemetry from separate transmission feeds to overlay locations with derelict scans."
As the AI spoke another addition would be made to the startling array of information already present on the Spartan's HUD, albeit incredibly simple ones - four waypoints, all located in close proximity deep within the ancient hulk. And with that, presumably, the end of his job out here. All that left was him to go in, confirm the team KIA with recorded proof and tag the vessel for a more substantial clean up crew along with a pertinent sitrep citing potential hostiles. That said, the problem now was getting in through the one entrance that was currently being occupied by the other salvage team... which was where the next thought came in.
They'd detected a heat signature, a potential lifesign. But where?
"Patch. Bring up another waypoint, location of the earlier heat signature that the current boarding party is tracking." Vincent said, grip slightly tightening on his weapon as the Spartan began making his way to the ship's lower decks again and towards the umbilical used for boarding. Two possibilities at play, although Vincent wasn't sure which one he'd have preferred. First, the heat signature would overlap with one of the first four waypoints the Macro had set, confirming one of the people he was here to locate was alive. At least for the moment. That still would've left the question of what had happened to them unanswered, but that would be fixed if he managed to get there while they were still breathing.
The other possibility being that the waypoint was elsewhere, and probably something he'd want to avoid if at all possible.
Post by Eliza Silvermantle on Oct 19, 2019 1:32:09 GMT
Eliza wasn't sure what she should have expected when Eligos touched the keypad, sweetly oblivious to the obsidian lines that defied everything she knew about the science behind her esoteric practice. Everything possessed at least a faint residue of mana, enough so to make a mana scan not result in a field of blackness against lifeforms. Indeed, she knew there to be even vast cosmic structures that could only be described as leylines, but a void of mana? That went against the very notion of how mana interacted with her native plane of existence, and suggested strongly something hazardous, even malignant at play. As a result, the woman tensed when her companion touched the keypad, then let out a quiet oath as she moved up to collect her still-undetonated charges. "Bloody madman.." she growled. "Remember what I told ye about before we jumped? I saw somethin' that wasna right, even by my standards," she explained. "Thought ye were about ta have yer soul ripped out or some shite," Eliza added as she put away the explosives.
"Second scan results are back," Veska chimed in. "Seems there is power to the derelict, so that life sign is likely an accurate reading. Not sure how we didn't spot that the first time around, though. Do you think our scanners need retooling?" the AI wondered.
"No, I'm almost positive th' issue is this ship. I know what I saw jist now. Hell, I'd patch ye into my HUD so ye can see what I'm referrin' ta, but we've only got so much air, and I'm na sure if this hulk's got any atmosphere available. Could be th' bassa we're seein's in a stasis pod or somethin'. Anyway..Best get movin'," she grumbled as she pushed ahead through the door, not at all pleased with the turn of events.
Across the HUD of Eligos's suit, a message displayed. [She's not crazy, trust me. I'll explain later about the mana thing, but you should probably follow her lead on that. And if you jump like that again, I shall be very upset.]
Repressed the urge to laugh at the obvious tense and annoyed Eliza, remaining perfectly still and actually straightening up as she grumbled and picked up the explosives. Heck he would even refrain from moving further in before she did. Truly a model of restraint. A heavy sigh echoed across his helmet, his comms once again muted as he listened to Eliza prattle on about the dangers from beyond that would eat out his soul, doing his best impression of being frightened, his hands raised up with his fingers wiggling about, and even through muted comms she would be able to tell he was making cartoonish ghost noises. Professional to the very end.
He switched his comms back on, grabbing the edge of the door and pushing himself inwards, floating all the way to the console, which he gripped with both hands in order to steady himself, right before he pressed the button to seal the door behind him and pressurize the area so they could finally make their way inside. He wasn't buying on the whole magic deal. Not even a little bit. Part of him felt like this was some sort of hazing, an initiation...but her genuine annoyance gave credence to a few of the crazier theories, those of closed esoteric groups held by the mighty and the rich, filled with ritual and superstition, and if you believe in such a thing, sacrifice and even cannibalism. As for Veska...well she was Eliza's right hand, of course she would have it in her head as normal. Still, her reaction to his way of doing this was almost adorable.
"Anyway...seems like this thing has some juice in it, so chances are all systems are functional and whatever lead to the explosion on the walkway also knocked the power loose. We might actually be able to turn life-support on and afford a longer, more thorough, exploration. What do you think?"
Without a read yet of the vessel's interior layout, all the telemetry could give for now was positions of the transponders and the detected life sign; a heat signature that was stationary in an area about midway through the structure, near one of the transponder markers.
There was an odd barely perceptible crackle to the monitored transmissions. Not quite radio pops, but almost like a crisscrossed transmission signal.
The outer door irised shut again, and once the layered panels completed the seal, a hiss slowly was heard becoming audible. The pressure in the intertransfer chamber continued to build until it was Terra comparable, and a light came on the display just before the inner doors hissed and irised open. Beyond the entry, bits of tools and other objects floated in the zero gravity hold. Whatever state the ship's power was in, the systems were at a bare minimum operation.
There was a crackle in the armored hardsuit's communications unit. Faint, brief, but it repeated itself, almost whispering something. Almost a voice, almost familiar.
the things that you might like don't grow inside of me
..... maybe not so simple. What Vincent had originally taken for clustered waypoints shifted as he began to move along the umbilical, and it quickly became evident that they were scattered along the length of the ship. The two closest to each other were at the far end within the orb like structure at the ship's aft.... along with a third waypoint that wasn't quite overlapping with either of the two transponders, indicating a third separate entity. The heat signal that the other boarding party had detected, a handful of meters within two of the transponder signals Vincent needed to confirm.
Terrific.
It didn't look like there was any way of getting around that, at least not as long as whatever it was remained stationary. It was always a bad idea to simply assume that his armor would hide him, too, so he'd have to proceed under the assumption that whatever it was would be hostile and would know he was coming. If not him, the two individuals that were in the tunnel outside. Pacing his walk for the very reason that they might have the same technology he was currently using, Vincent saw the two red dots on his motion tracker creep onto the edge of its detection radius.
As the they moved into the airlock the contacts on his motion tracker did as well, the pair moving into the airlock and the door irising shut behind them and leaving the tunnel clear. Good. Moving to the end of the umbilical, Vincent keyed open the hatch and walked into the tunnel, approaching the doorway the previous two had just passed through as their contacts disappeared from the motion tracker - that'd be them waiting for the chamber to repressurize and admit them inside the ship proper, assuming it still had atmosphere. Until that was done there wasn't much for him to do but wait for them to move ahead and the chamber to clear again. That left him with plenty of time, and Vincent found himself briefly debating on whether or not it was worth carting in the sealed crate he'd left towards the end of the tunnel - there was far more in there than just repair materials and medkits, and if things went sideways it probably wouldn't hurt to have more potent ordnance on hand than a couple flashbangs and shield poppers.
As he stood thinking with one eye on his motion tracker, however, the radio disturbance wouldn't go unnoticed by the Spartan, enough to draw forth a small frown within his helmet. Opal had been the communications specialist - she'd always had a gift for the technology and an ear for stuff even the others in their company had difficulty picking up on, but that didn't mean Vincent was completely inept. Whatever that was, it wasn't background static or interference from a random burst of cosmic radiation, even this close to the heliopause. It was different - more like someone had tapped into the channel, same as him, but had been far sloppier and left their mic on without realizing it. Was there someone else out here? Or was it the same thing towards the rear of the ship?
Weapon edging just a few centimeters closer to a ready position, Vincent almost subconsciously found himself turning to face his back to the wall, VISR enhanced gaze sweeping over the tunnel behind him and alert for contacts.
Post by Eliza Silvermantle on Oct 19, 2019 22:15:01 GMT
Eliza stared irritably at her companion, not at all amused by his mockery, though she really didn't want to get into a lengthy debate on the subject when they had only a limited amount of air. "Eligos, look down at my feet," she instructed, knowing that his headlamp would illuminate quite literally the most overlooked proof of her nature. People didn't pay any mind to other people's shadows, typically, so it only followed that the distinctly arachnoid shape of the shadow she cast went unnoticed. "Ye make a point wi th' power though..." she started before trailing off into silence, distracted by the strange audio whisper that came across her comms. "Odd...Veska, run a check, has someone else tapped th' channel? I think I jist heard somethin'," Eliza explained. "Either that, or this place is weirder than I was jist thinkin'. As the chamber repressurized, she monitored her HUD, both for atmospheric composition and for any additional sign of..whatever she'd just heard.
"I can try, but remember, that's a bit outside my expertise. It might take a few minutes for the ship's AI to turn back your results."
"Aye, I know, Ves. Jist keep an aye, let us know if anythin' develops that we might miss on th' ground."
Despite his initial reaction of simply arching a brow at Elixa's request, he would aim his helmet's light sources towards her feet, floating a few inches above the floor of the pressurizing chamber, casting an odd distorted shadow onto the dark plating of the floor bellow. Strange...some warping was to be expected, but the shadow seemed all wrong, as if it did not match the position and configuration of her body...almost as if wasn't human at all.
The sound of his heartbeat echoed within his helmet, adrenaline joining the growing cocktail that flowed across the organic components of his body as a sense of forbidding loomed over him. he didn't feel fear. No, it wasn't that... He simply felt uncomfortable, his senses ad brain telling him something was off, triggering an uncanny valley within his perception, tethering his paranoid mind closer to the edge, closer to the brink of accepting the impossible, the baffling, the outright ridiculous...
The pressure shift awoke him back to reality and pushed the growing sensation to the back of his mind, his senses immediately reaching out and occupying themselves with the new environment, his subconscious clinging to the doorway effect as a coping mechanism, resetting his mental state as he floated on by silently, gently gliding across the sea of air and ether, axe in his right hand choking towards the blade and he slowly spun horizontally, light cast across floor, ceiling, wall and the beyond alike, while his eyes darted from object to object, judging them as puzzle pieces, attempting to create an image of what had happened within this chamber before gravity had been disconnected.
The tunnel, now, was clear except for him. The soldier and his Macro were alone in the causeway, with only the key panel on the frame of the iris door between him and entry. The unknown heat signal still hadn't moved, and it remained so in relation to the second nearest transponder.
The static crackle came over his communications speakers again, this time accompanied by a faint voice. It wasn't discernable, but it was definitely a voice. And it was somehow something familiar...
No indications of extra lines in the communications link had been audible to the cyborg mercenary. If anything, what the cyborg could perceive was that the derelict was abandoned save the two of them, and still had some kind of atmosphere, but it was so old and stale from a lack of refresher processing.
The seeming voice again, before it went silent. Yet no systems showed any sign of it. For the scanners on the hard suit and the vessel that they had arrived on, there was no sign of any third party transmission link. However, the heat signal was for sure ahead, and unmoving at about two hundred and seventy meters in.
the things that you might like don't grow inside of me
Nothing.
His back to the airlock, the Spartan remained statue still as he found himself still alone in the tunnel. Absolutely nothing but his own breath, heartbeat and the radio chatter from the other team, although it seemed like he wasn't the only one to have picked up on whatever it was. Lockheed had evidently heard something as well, ordering her companion on the Dancing Goddess to perform a comms check and presumably try to track down the source of the radio disturbance. Vincent was half tempted to task his AI to do the same, but... no. The more processing power it could devote to reconstructing those records from the Beatrice the faster it would get done, and the Spartan wasn't keen on the idea of testing the AI's limitations outside of a controlled setting. For now he'd play it safe and let the other team chase down the ghost, whatever it was.
Glancing back to the iris, Vincent silently urged the airlock to cycle just a bit faster - cut down on the number of seconds he'd spend exposed to vacuum and whatever was out there, if anything. The derelict was the last place he wanted to be but at least it had atmosphere... and walls, floors and ceilings limiting the direction from which potential threats could approach him from.
And whatever that ghost was, it was back. Something a bit more substantial this time, a very faint and distant voice as though the speaker was dozens of meters away from the microphone that was transmitting and calling out to it. While it wasn't uncommon for Vincent to be on edge during missions as that kind of stress often served to keep you alive - make your senses sharper, reflexes faster, primed your body with adrenaline before it absolutely needed it - and he'd long since embraced that fact... this was different. It wasn't often that anything really got under his skin anymore, but that earlier discomfort that had been growing ever since leaving the Prowler, the gut feeling he'd been putting aside for the sake of getting the job done... something about that voice changed it into a cold lump in the pit of his stomach, something he hadn't experienced in years.
Staring out into the empty void down the tunnel, Vincent's fingers shifted on his weapon's grips before reaching back with his left hand to draw an item from the hardcase on his back. Feeling along the edge of the cylinder just to make sure he had it facing the right way, the Spartan would not look away from the tunnel as he began twisting the suppressor onto the end of the SMG's threaded barrel.
Whatever had killed that SinoViet team... if it was still out here, and if it intended to do the same to the rest of them who had come looking for the salvage crew...
Well. Spartans didn't die. And he'd make damn sure it did if it was looking for a fight.
If it came to it he'd light up this whole damn ship to be sure of it.
Post by Eliza Silvermantle on Oct 20, 2019 6:21:25 GMT
Veska frowned slightly as she looked over the various console readouts in the command room. Something didn't feel right, and even the AI could tell as much. "Nothing on the comms, but the scans did detect movement. Looks like it was a hatch or door. Honestly, I doubt I'd have caught it if the ship weren't so still and all our scanners pointed your way already," she added. "Not sure what to make of it all right yet."
Eliza listened quietly, cursing silently as she considered the possibilities. On one hand, it could have been a simple tech glitch playing into her borderline paranoia about the void mana lines, but her gut said they weren't alone by any stretch. "It means our job just got that much more complicated," she answered. "Continue ta monitor fer movement that's na us. Might give us some insight into what th' bleedin' hell is wi this place."
"Understood. I'll get on that now."
"And Eligos, I need ye ta keep yer eyes out. I suspect there's others here, but I've no idea who or what. Could be survivors, could be whatever kilt th' crew, could be another hunter we dinna see on th' way in. I'll explain th' shadow bit later."
The silence returned, the popping and crackle subsiding. Nothing but floating debris could be seen in the tunnel where the soldier's lights projected. The airlock finished cycling open to allow him entry, a dim light emanating from the transfer chamber now. Once inside, the soldier would find that his HUD rangefinder had calculated the distance to the nearest transponder; just under two hundred fifty meters from the entry lock. Another thirty meters from that was the heat signature, still stationary.
The ship certainly had power, and atmosphere, though it seemed stale, old. As the transfer lock would repressurize, sound would build back up. After the cycle completed, the inner doors would iris open, revealing the darkened interior of the ship.
The voice had gone silent, but the faint background sound was still there, and every now and then, there was a slow breathing, very faint however. Yet any trace of the coms revealed only three connections.
Ahead within the section they had entered, a series of blunted protrusions line the walls. While UV spectrum was showing nothing unusual, the mana spectrum showed the same empty lines crossing over the protrusions before flittering further into the vessel's interior. Some screens were mounted at access level into the inner hull walls, but they too were dark; power usage and systems operations were at a minimum it seemed.
The atmosphere was uncycled, showing residual carbon dioxide build up that were near toxic level. It meant the scrubber system had been inactive for quite a while, and a ship this size, even as old as it seemed to be, would have had a self-cleaning primary scrubber instead of requiring non-renewable sorbet canisters. Almost nothing used the latter in several centuries.
The fact minimal systems were running meant that somewhere, there was a systems control center that still was operating.
Continued with his slow drift across the expansive room, his eyes now falling upon Eliza, squinting beneath the clear visor of his helmet as he studied her...She was nervous. Twitchy even. Paranoid...He recognised the attributes. After all he shared them as well, but...he never expected to be the calmer one of the two. Something was off about her. He tapped the side of his helmet, switching his comms from all, to just Veska.
"Veska? Don't answer, don't ask, don't tell Eliza. I'm pretty sure that fancy armour of hers can track her vitals. And I'm almost certain you can track them. Keep a close watch on them...just in case."
He would quickly rejoin the team's comm settings and spin horizontally until he was facing the floor, his finger reaching for it for support before he pushed himself away, weightless and free, deeper and deeper into the vessel. He lacked the fancy readings of his team-mate, but he knew every vessel had easy to read guides in all sections for the rest of the vessel, both out of ease of use and safety. It could be something as simple as a map in each section, or colour-lines dictating the path to them. If they were lucky enough said guides would have some writing or branding, shedding some light over the nature of the strange vessel.
"Something out here? Ship looks like it has been dead in the water for a while. Might be a stasis pod or a cryosleep chamber. A survivor. Well, which way oh fearless leader? You are the one with the guiding blips...albeit I still vote we try to power this thing up, at least get life-support running."
Post by Eliza Silvermantle on Oct 21, 2019 20:25:56 GMT
Veska let out a sound not unlike a sigh as she moved to send a typed response to Eligos. At least he was concerned for what was technically her own, even if their relationship dynamic flowed more like friends. [I'll keep an eye, but she might not be wrong. There's definitely something off about this ship. Probably should be on the lookout for anything that doesn't quite fit. Remember what I told you before you left.] Having sent the message, the AI resumed monitoring the various readouts across the command consoles. Hopefully, something would start making sense soon.
"Aye, it looks that way," Eliza agreed as she glanced towards her companion. "Trouble is, I'm hearin' breathin' that's na yers or mine. Veska donna breathe, and there's no listeners as best we can detect. If there are any, their gear's good enough ta avoid detection, in which case, I'd na hear them breathin'. Meanin' there's somethin' else at play. What, I'm na sure, but I mean ta find out," she explained. "Honestly, I'd rather pick up this blip and exfil ta compile our data so we've a better idea what we're dealin' wi. Ships arna supposed ta be metaphysically anomalous, and this one is. Means I have ta brief ye in full soon. How long do ye have on yer air supply?" she asked.
the things that you might like don't grow inside of me
Whatever was interfering with the radio, it wasn't there with Vincent in the tunnel. No movement aside from the slow drift of debris that had been disturbed by the team ahead of him now, and the only movement on his motion tracker was still the other team - now moving deeper into the ship, indicating that the airlock had finished cycling them in. What Vincent hadn't been expecting was for the chamber to cycle once more, seemingly on its own, and the door behind him to iris open. Despite knowing that the chamber was clear from the earlier team's radio chatter and his AI's own silence monitoring the video feed, the Spartan would pivot at the sound and light with his weapon at the ready, remaining stock still again as his gaze ran over all corners of the chamber beyond the doorway.
Sooner he was off this ship, the better, and the urge to scuttle it simply out of spite the moment survivors were recovered or confirmed KIA was growing.
Throwing another glance back down the tunnel but no longer finding any real degree of comfort in the fact that he was by all possible definitions invisible, Vincent would move into the airlock with suspicion. Keying the controls with one hand and reminding himself that he had enough ordnance to burn entry ways through half a dozen walls of Titanium-A, the Spartan would take the time the chamber took to cycle again to mentally recount every ounce of gear he had available to him at that moment.