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The Beatrice would appear intact on visual inspection. No breaches of the hull, no damage to the outer plating. The strange thing was no doubt merely the fact it was still attached to the derelict, with no sign of activity thus far. An entry hatch and airlock were labeled toward the middle of the salvage vessel, and a series of blinking lights would indicate that the control panel was operational. The Beatrice still had power, and atmosphere for sure. The question was, what happened to the crew.
Eligos gritted his teeth as Eliza spoke, her strange accent still grating his ears and forcing him to pay way too much attention to what she was actually saying to be able to understand the bulk of what she meant. Where the ever living fuck was that accent even from?! As he walked his free hand would adjust the strap across his chest, holding his beloved lockpicks firmly to his back...He was heading into a space-hulk with zero life support, and the tight confines, low gravity and near-zero life-support meant his guns were ill-advised. That's well enough. He was a shit shot anyway, and preferred to either set traps or melee. However, if they were basically about to jump through raw space to get to the ship... He might need a suit. Not a full on space-suit, but enough protection to keep his skin from contacting vacuum. Or an atmospheric shield. He was pretty sure Eliza would have something he could use laying around.
As he was lost in thoughts, walking without really thinking, guided by the precise gait of the gynoid before him, he became aware of her talking, an eyebrow arching up at her not so subtle hinting. Not what she appeared to be? That could mean anything, but his fertile brain was already digging up some pretty generous conspiracy theories, as they tend to exist about anyone in high enough places. Even then, Eliza was a bit of a mystery, which made the theories only get wilder.
"Wait did you just say fireball?" The line of questioning however is soon dropped as the double entendre is spoken, prompting the cyborg to shake his head, a bemused smile upon his lips as he fetched the cigarette from them, securing it into his pockets as his forked tongue rested against his canines.
"I'm pretty sure I said that exact line to you before... The jack's variable capacity to maximise compatibility, but last i checked the max diameter was 2cm. Also Miss Cheeky-tongue, I might need something to keep the fleshy bits out of the cold, dead space. Mask will keep the decompression from popping my lungs, my batteries can keep me warm, and headphones will also pressurise to keep my ears intact, but I still got plenty of exposed skin. I'd like to arrive to the space-hulk without resembling a balloon."
Truth be told he hated to ask for gear. Main reason why he hadn't done so already, but even with his upgrades he was still outclasses as fare as bare space came...might have to invest into a proper shield someday.
Post by Eliza Silvermantle on Oct 16, 2019 2:28:58 GMT
"Oh good, that makes things much simpler," Veska called from over her shoulder as she produced what appeared to be a jack for a neural interface, though rather than hold any additional hardware, it had only a smooth ceramic plate. "How's this?" she asked as she offered the plug to the Daibanese man before immediately flitting across the room to what appeared to be a rather tall box. "And did you really think I'd go through all the trouble to get you to travel with us on a deep space salvage mission and not ensure you had the equipment to do the job safely?" the AI asked as she pulled the front of the container away to reveal a hardsuit not at all unlike those used by security forces on world stations for EVA operations. "I get a decent stipend from Eliza, you know. It's kinda questionable as far as the governments are concerned, but AIs like me aren't terribly common, so it's not too difficult manage private purchases," she explained before sobering for a moment. "I did say fireball, didn't I?" A rhetorical question if ever there was one. It wasn't like she could forget without outright deleting the memory. "Eliza is..different. From what she's told me, there used to be many like her, capable of manipulating aspects of the energy of the universe in what is commonly called magic. These days, there's very few like that, at least, within the Orion Spur. Apparently, the Andromeda Galaxy has more practitioners, but that's also twice the size of the Sol-Daiban, too, so there's that. Just thought you ought to know ahead of time, if she's giving you that sort of heads up," Veska continued as she nudged Eligos towards the hardsuit. "But come, try it on! Also, might want to hurry. Eliza's not exactly the most patient person about missions. And be careful, too. I don't want to have to hunt you down because you decided to be impulsive one too many times."
Eliza stood by the airlock, silently toggling through the various systems on her own hardsuit, making certain everything was in good working order before she finally patched into the main comms channel they'd previously established via the ship's systems. "Alright, this is Eliza Lockheed, testing comms from suit. Systems are green to go, time to EVA boarding T minus five minutes," she announced, speaking mostly for the sake of records, since proper communication wasn't possible at these distances. "Boarding party to consist of myself and Daibanese human bounty hunter, Eligos Vanth. At present, salvage vessel appears to be empty, with neither power nor life signs, though intermittent decentralized readings persist, cause unknown. Environment suspected to be unconventional and potentially hostile. Previous salvage team is believed to be deceased as of this time, as there are no life signs originating from the Beatrice, nor has there been any response to hails. Preliminary conclusion is suspected virulent plague, and entry will be approached accordingly. Status to be updated upon further information discovered." Now all that remained was for Eligos to arrive so Veska could cycle the airlocks, and the mission could commence.
the things that you might like don't grow inside of me
No outward damage, at least from what Vincent could see.
As he approached the SinoViet ship along the outer hull of the derelict the Spartan could discern no obvious cause for the team's failure to check in and report back to their paymasters. No visible signs of trauma, slight indications of power, nothing to suggest that there had been violence or an accident of any kind. In all honesty, he probably would have preferred that there was. It might not have been nearly as potent as Lieutenant Ambrose's purported near supernatural sense for traps and ambushes, but after so many years of survival Vincent had developed something similar even if it was only vestigial by comparison. While it was too early to say what he couldn't help but get the feeling that something here was out of place, and whether that was by some malintentioned design or simply a case of Intel dropping the ball remained to be seen. Neither potential outcome boded well, though, and the Spartan was getting a gut feeling that the people he was here to find were already dead. Exactly why remained to be seen.
Finally closing to within a few meters of the ship, Vincent's sights settled onto the exterior entry hatch on the vessel, gently pushing off of the derelict's hull to float towards the Beatrice - making contact with an outstretched hand, the Spartan's legs would be brought down to lock onto the hull, settling into a crouch over the airlock's control panel. While it seemed to be working and definitely had power, Vincent didn't bother trying to use the controls as intended. Hand dropping to a smaller hardcase locked to his armor's left thigh, a datapad would be produced from within, cord drawn from an input jack and followed by only a moment's hesitation as Vincent tried to locate a usable port on the panel. Nothing that would immediately match, but that's what he'd gotten the adaptors for - after 400 years it was only to be expected that technology had advanced a bit and older hardware might not be in use anymore. Clicking the jack into place at the end of the cable, Vincent would plug it into the diagnostics port and a moment later his datapad would come to life.
"New activity from the civilian vessel. In addition to the long range broadcast they are also utilizing a short range frequency, communications encrypted."
Not surprising. Considering they were already bothering to broadcast video - likely to those who hired them - it made sense they'd be at least somewhat professional, although Vincent would've preferred that they'd not have bothered with encryption this far out in the middle of nowhere. Well, whatever. He had time.
"See what you can do about that. Once you crack that encryption I want you to pipe me that audio, but nothing from us. Don't want to talk to them, just listen in." Vincent said, voice relatively calm and monotone as the majority of his attention was focused on interpreting the information on the datapad he was holding. He was out of practice, and the relatively foreign computing language wasn't doing him any favors - a few days of study could only do so much on that front, but there was no teacher like experience. All the better that he was out here and doing this rather than something with far more pressure and far higher stakes involved. After roughly two minutes spent zipping through code and diagnostics protocols Vincent finally found what he was looking for..... he hoped. Sending a pair of electronic commands, the Spartan sat and waited to see if the airlock successfully depressurized and opened its outer door.
The seals cycled without issue. The key panel displayed an alert that the airlock was decompressing to allow entry, a process it counted down for thirty seconds before unlatching the outer hatch and opening to permit entry for repressurization. Inside was a typical arrangement. Sets of EVA class hardsuits for any spot repairs or hull work needed, display screens showing their primed status, and the primary control panel for the airlock functions. Three suits remained out of seven total stations, leaving only the derelict hulk as their location. The secondary lighting systems were on, and through the inner hatch's viewport, the interior of the salvage craft could be seen, lighting in the same state as the airlock.
All that waited was activating the repressurization protocols to allow any further progress into the Beatrice.
As the plug was handed to him, he would fiddle with it for a few moments, almost as if checking the plug to make sure it contained no hidden piece of electronics, before pressing it against the back of his head, feeling the plug pop into the slot, creating a visceral reaction that was so familiar to him. No matter how many times you do it, jacking something into your skull feels weird. Still checking the fit, the cyborg would follow the gynoid with his eyes, his head cocking tot he side as she revealed yet another package.
"Huh, a bit early for gifts, ain't it?"
He joked as he picked up the suit, once more investigating each individual piece. It was a standard-issue EVA suit, quite handy for what he was about to do...He hated having to use something corporate and mass-produced, buuuut....if he got to keep the suit after he would just personalise it. And strip it of any branding. He quickly starting removing the gear strapped to his person, letting it rest on a nearby table before busying himself with the EVA. In fact he would only pause at the mention of magic.
"Wait...magic is real?...You are pulling my leg, right? I know you are fully capable of jokes, so this is a joke?"
His question would go unanswered as she nudged him onwards, and he quickly finished donning the suit, placing the helmet over his head and feeling the slight hiss as the suit locked up. He would flex his limbs for a bit, trying the range of his motions, specially to see if the suit would be able to deal with his digigrade leg configuration, and his double-jointed range of motions. Seemingly content with the results he would strap his gear on top of it. Finally done with his prep, he would lean towards the gynoid, his visor resting against her forehead as he pressed the button that would allow hsi speech to carry.
"Hey don't worry, I'll make it back one way or another." He muttered with a cheeky tone before pulling back, already bounding his way out of the room "I'm just too lucky to die!" He threw over his shoulder, his voice twice-muffled due tot he helmet and the gas mask he was wearing.
He sped up across the hallways on the way to the airlock, soon skidding to a halt right next to Eliza, tapping her shoulder to get her attention "Ready to go. Seems your friend had enough foresight to solve my little issue with the deadly vacuum of space."
Post by Eliza Silvermantle on Oct 16, 2019 22:07:45 GMT
Eliza looked the suit over as Eligos came into view, silently assessing the quality of fit. With Eligos's unusual leg structure for a human, she'd worried that the hardsuit Veska had mentioned purchasing might not fit the man properly, but evidently, her assistant was quite adept in a number of roles that shared skills with those she already possessed. "Na bad. She'd mentioned gettin' somethin' when she told me she'd gotten ye ta ride wi us fer this mission. Looks like it'll do th' job nicely, now patch in. Bloody derelict's massive, so we'll want ta share eyes and ears, never mind that I'm sure our client's itchin' ta get as much intel as possible. More we get them, th' higher chances our pay increases, ye know?" she remarked as she opened the inner door of the airlock. "Ye ever done EVA work?" Eliza wondered idly as she stepped into the lock, then switched to active comms. "Alright Veska. We're in th' lock. Start depressurization. Once that's done, we'll make our jumps, estimated travel, thirty seconds to ingress point. Ye maintain comms, hold position, and monitor fer any notable changes," she ordered. "After total time of 45 minutes elapses, remind us, so we can make our egress and return. Shite's off as all hell about this ship, but I want this ta still move smooth as possible."
"Understood. What of the possibility of worst case scenario?" Veska inquired over the comms from the command room of the Dancing Goddess.
"Locate our position, create an egress point, and provide cover. Once we're clear, neutralize th' threat. I'm sure if th' worst is what we find, SinoViet will understand enough na ta dock us too harshly." Eliza glanced at her HUD, noting the now fully airless state of the chamber, then cycled open the outer door. "Outer lock is open. Making egress from base ship to salvage vessel now," she announced, making a conscious effort to scrub her voice of her native accent, then moved to the edge of the airlock and jumped forcefully, propelling herself through the emptiness of space for a few dozen seconds, though as she drifted past the outer edges of the open corridor, she reached out with her right hand, drawing momentarily on the mana within her body to summon a whiplike tendril of amorphous light that shot out like a grapnel to latch onto an interior bulkhead, providing Eliza with a swift and secure landing. "Eligos, report." she called curtly over the comms as she quickly surveyed her surroundings.
the things that you might like don't grow inside of me
Success.
Unplugging his datapad from the diagnostics jack and stowing the electronic within the hardcase it had been pulled from to free up both hands, Vincent would wait for the airlock to cycle, decompress and open before "dropping" through the open portal, a brief burst from his armor's thrusters once more to right himself as his boots met the airlock floor. Still nothing out of the ordinary. Hardsuits were present, although four were missing and effectively accounted for the entirety of the SinoViet team... which meant they were either spaced, stuck out on the hull somewhere as loose debris often tended to just cling to whatever big objects they encountered or somewhere onboard the derelict itself. There was the slim possibility that they might've been onboard the Beatrice, but judging from the fact that the ship appeared to be running on auxiliary power the Spartan rather doubted it. That said, he was never one to leave a job half finished or a stone unturned, and he'd need to clear the salvage ship first before extending his search out to the larger vessel beyond.
If he was lucky, though, the team were professional enough to have kept a running mission log with both audio and video documenting their time spent out here. That'd make things really simple and clear cut, but Vincent knew it'd be best to temper his expectations in that regard. Stepping forward, the still cloaked Spartan would reach for the airlock controls, intending to manually activate them to seal the chamber and pressurize it once more - unlike the external controls there was no reason to suspect this set to have any sort of safety lock in place, and if it did he'd simply repeat the process that had gotten him into the room.
"Decryption complete."
Faster than Vincent was expecting, but he'd take it. Judging from the first transmission and the time it took him to get inside the airlock he was looking at maybe another three minutes until the boarding party of two made it over, and Vincent had to assume they'd be poking around the Beatrice first the same as he was - it was the only reliable source of heat and air aside from their own vessel and they'd clearly elected not to dock, a fairly sensible precaution. Assuming it took another minute and a half to get inside the ship proper... a minute, maybe two if they took their sweet time getting there.
Or not. Thirty seconds? My, they were quick. He'd be cutting it close, but at the same time Vincent didn't particularly feel like dealing with civilians if he could avoid it. In hindsight he honestly wasn't entirely sure where Confed stood on him and those like him - supposedly the AESIRs (a successor to the Spartans IVs as best he could tell) were public knowledge, but that wasn't a coin he wanted to flip without knowing for certain.
Well. At least it was good to know his armor's stealth enhancements were working properly. They weren't by any means a standard addition to even GEN2 MJOLNIR, and it was rather comforting to know that even in this day and age he didn't show up on sensor sweeps - with any luck that and the optical camouflage would allow him to avoid having to confront this other rescue party, and he could do his job, pack up and head back to Earth.
Touching the airlock controls, Vincent waited for the door behind him to seal and the one ahead of him to open.
A beep, a voice softly announcing restoration of the atmosphere inside the airlock. Within a minute, the screen displayed an all clear, and the inner doors gave a hiss and a thump as they slid open. Entry inside was granted, and the interior of the Beatrice would prove unremarkable as of yet. It was a standard salvage freighter, about forty-eight meters in length, and receptive enough to AI probing to divulge enough basic information. It was rated for in-system work, with a standard jump drive for basic slipspace travel and any inter-system jumps between the local three to five parsec region.
The ship's core systems would report that the mission logs were fragmented, some kind of data corruption. The ship's AI protocols seemed to have had a malfunction, as the system's current time stamps were also dated five weeks prior, when the Beatrice had met with the drifting hulk. The logs could be reconstructed, but it would take even the Macro AI carried by the time tossed soldier some time. Outside those issues, the Beatrice seemed in perfect order.
Continued to idly flex his mechanical limbs, actually hopping in place as he stepped into the lock, trying to get his blood and adrenaline flowing. As air is cycled out he would turn on his air-supply, amply spiked with his blend of enhancers, aiding in revving his biological core up to speed.
"Yea, I think she took my measurements. This thing is kinda snug. Although for next time I have an idea for an upgrade that fits my style a bit better....might have t use the payment from this mission for it however."
As depressurization began he would lower himself down, legs bent and tensed, his digits spread and touching the ground as his head straightened up, eyes focusing on the blasted open portion of the ship...he only had one shot at this jump, and he was wasn't about to miss it...
"Me? Nope, never."
No sooner had he said this than the door leading to the void of space would open, and his coiled artificial muscles would spring, digigrade legs extending in a frog's leap, propelling him past Eliza even before she could step to the edge. The lack of gravity was...exhilarating. A lot less like flying, and more like permanent free-falling...thankfully while he didn't have any experience in flight, he had plenty of experience when it came to falling, and living. Thankfully for him his trajectory seemed to be correct, unfortunately he wasn't used to the lack of air-resistance and thus crashed into the broken corridor at full speed, his body bounding around soundlessly until he managed to cling to a piece of loose wiring, halting his momentum and allowing him to right himself.
"Yea, yea, I'm alive. Give me a sec..."
He muttered after turning on his comms, quickly fiddling with his helmet until his digits find a button near the temple, and with a click, two beams of light cut through the darkness, revealing naught but warped metal and the occasional piece of floating debris, an eerie frame for a window of the sun and the starry void. The cyborg allowed himself a moment of contemplation, hand stretching forth as if wanting to grasp the sun in the palm of his hand...it was so quiet. Some might call it serene, but in the confines of his suit, he heard hsi breathing and heartbeat, loud as drums, the chemicals flowing through his bloodstream doing little to lessen this effect.
"Went at it at a bit more speed than you. I'm a few meters ahead, heck I think I see your outline from here. Its strange, the walkways seems pretty busted, but with the way the metal is bent...it was blown from the inside. The fused and warped metal could be from the exposed bare metal touching one another in space. With no corrosion, they tend to simply merge like that....What? I know my explosions."
He justified, already foreseeing some remark regarding his apparent knowledge of the subject. Neglecting to simply go ahead, he would turn towards the other end of the corridor, , the light beams stretching across the metallic expanse. His eyes would squint, trying to focus on the edge of his sight, where his mind told him there was faint light, or perhaps a reflection.
"I see something further ahead, might be the connection point to the salvage ship. Don't worry I'll wait for you before I go dick first into things."
Post by Eliza Silvermantle on Oct 17, 2019 22:01:52 GMT
Eliza had already been moving when Eligos shot past her, drawing a strangled curse from the ashen-haired woman as she watched him rocket across the void beyond and, to her surprised relief, into the derelict's interior, though to judge by the velocity he'd been moving at, likely with a far less graceful landing than her own. She let out a sigh when she heard his report, then resumed her check of the immediate area.
""Quoi le merde, Eligos?! Ce n'est pas prudent! Je jure que vous essayez de me rendre fou!" Veska broke in across the comms, chattering irately in one of Terra's lesser known languages for reasons Eliza could only begin to guess at, though given the nature of the channel, she couldn't very well leave it open to nonessential communications.
"Veska, he's fine," she interrupted. "We're on th' job, ye can have his hide after we get back. And Eligos, maybe na so much force. Probably shouldna elaborate on yer demolitions expertise, either," she added, recalling the man's less than approving stance on authority. A quick check on her HUD informed her that he indeed wasn't far, and though she would've liked to make a detailed sweep on each portion of the derelict, staying together seemed more prudent. "Aye, I see ye. Movin' up," she warned before aiming her arm at the bulkhead to Eligos's right, then fired another tendril of energy, using it to haul herself down the gravity-less corridor in a more controlled manner than walking would have likely proven. "Alright, let's see what ye found.." she muttered as she scanned through her HUD options, toggling through infrared, UV, and even a mana scanner, intent on gleaning everything she could before advancing further.
Little would appear on the infrared beside the obvious companion in the tunnel. There were lines crisscrossing the walls of the drifting derelict...lines of pure black, like nothingness, moving in minute trails. They led inward, trailing into the ship itself, even flittering over the key panel to the entry door.
And then, solid life signs, a faint heat signature, emerged within the ship, deeper within its decks. Immobile, but centralized. It was only once in the confines of the broken tunnel that it appeared, no doubt a result of better proximity. Something, or someone, was alive inside.
the things that you might like don't grow inside of me
A beep from the airlock controls and a minute later the hatch would slide open to permit access to the interior of the ship, and Vincent would waste no time. With the amount of effort Vincent had put into preparing for this job he'd made certain that no detail had been overlooked, and that had included a comprehensive study of the Beatrice - or rather, the model of ship it was - before anything else following the mission briefing. The ship itself wasn't at all remarkable, but what that time spent on memorization allowed for was speed and efficiency. Moving straight to the bridge and pausing only to clear the room for movement or bodies, the Spartan already had his datapad in hand and adaptor ready as he located the relevant plug in locations. Zipping through the information pouring into the device, Vincent found himself almost immediately pausing at his findings.
He didn't need an AI to know what he was looking at - Spartan IIIs typically weren't assigned them to begin with, and as a result each team almost always had a technical specialist adept at engineering or cybersecurity, preferably both, and prior to the late 2540s that had very much been his role. There was a fine line between comprehension and understanding, though, and this was one of those cases where that distinction was an important one. Vincent very well was able to comprehend the information in front of him, but he was unable to understand the why. Data corruption and fragmentation was everywhere, and while the salvage team had indeed documented their time spent out here if the file headings and formats were to be believed none of it was decipherable.
It wasn't unsalvagable provided one were willing to put in the time and effort as well as willing to task dedicated AI runtime to the job, but that wasn't at all useful in the immediate. From what Vincent understood of Marco capabilities they were effectively still dumb AI, just with beefed up processing power. None of the creativity or flexibility that smart AI tended to demonstrate and that would've been incredibly useful here - under those circumstances Vincent would have simply tasked it with either copying some subroutines to route back to the Prowler that could reconstruct the files on its own or even write and entirely new program to handle the problem while they continued on, but neither were options here.
What made even less sense, though, were the time stamps. The ship itself was in perfect working order, even according to the diagnostic information Vincent had access to now. Nothing was out of place mechanically, and the automated systems and subroutines were working fine. Yet somehow the ship seemed to think it was five weeks prior, the date that the Beatrice had first made contact with the derelict.
The gut feeling that he'd had since leaving the relative safety of his own vessel was worsening, and part of Vincent was sorely tempted to take what he'd found, clear the Beatrice just to be sure there was no one left aboard and report back with his current findings. Something had happened out here to cause both the disappearance of the salvage crew as well as the corruption of the SinoViet ship's systems, and given the precautions that such professionals took it wasn't the kind of thing that happened by chance or accident. That on top of the ship's otherwise perfect condition... it reeked of sabotage, and a particularly well done job at that. Vincent had no proof beyond circumstantial evidence but if he'd been asked to state his opinion for record...
Something or someone was out here, and they didn't want the salvage team leaving or for their hand in the "accident" to be known.
Queuing up a quarantined storage space on his datapad, Vincent would dump everything he could gather from the Beatrice's systems onto it before beginning to search for another set of potential pertinent records that would hopefully make his job much, much faster. He wasn't banking on it working given his suspicions, but between what he had in front of him, the missing EVA suits and the other team currently and conveniently streaming a constant feed of data...
"Patch, I've got a job for you." Vincent said, glancing up from his work to see one of the other boarding team off in the distance, movement tracked and enhanced by his VISR. Not boarding the Beatrice but the derelict itself - perfect. It'd give him a bit more breathing room, time to do what he needed to do and with any luck help with his other idea.
"Devote some of your processing to reconstructing those files, as much as you can without compromising performance elsewhere. Treat them as hostile, something's been through them and I'm not sure what yet. I've dumped everything else I could from the Beatrice in there, too, I want you to search for any sort of transponders those hardsuits in the airlock had. Once you've got their frequencies you should be able to use the data being piped from the other salvage team that just boarded. Chances are they won't know what they're looking for until it's obvious but if they're picking up even trace signals you should be able to locate them. Update me as needed." Vincent continued, quickly disconnecting his pad's cord from the bridge's consoles with a snick before stowing the electronic and beginning to move back towards the room's doorway. Hands coming back up to the comically undersized SMG - appearing more akin to a machine pistol by comparison - the Spartan did a quick check of the weapon before snapping the magazine back into place and moving on to clear the rest of the vessel.
Post by Eliza Silvermantle on Oct 18, 2019 22:48:51 GMT
Eliza frowned as she stared at her HUD, trying to process how a life sign could be getting picked up on a ship without life support. "Veska, we got nothin' on either ship, aye?" she inquired across the channel, still watching the heat signature. "I'm seein' one heat signature in here, close enough fer my VISR ta detect," she explained as she quietly drew one of her two MARS, a precaution, though hopefully unneeded.
"That's odd. Although, scanners did just detect some activity on the Beatrice. No life signs, but the airlock cycled. Could be someone with stealth technology, but I'd imagine you wouldn't be able to see them any better than I, if that's the case."
"Aye, that's what I thought..Have a pass around th' area ta be sure. Ye should have time before we need ta exfil," the ashen-haired woman replied. "Somethin's definitely up, though. Solid black lines are comin' up on th' mana scans." She paused, weighing the implications of such a readout. Mana was a manifestation of the energy of life. It was why a machine couldn't use magic, only channel it. Admittedly, such knowledge these days was almost nonexistent in the Orion Spur, as far as she knew, so for the ship to have mana lines.. "Belay that last, Veska. I want ye ready ta carve an exfil point if need be. Eligos, stay sharp. Ye see anythin' odd, point it out. Let's see what this life sign is.." she muttered as she moved towards the hatch with a breaching charge. Mana lines on a ship was unsettling enough, but lines of void? She wasn't about to touch that if there were ways around it.
"Eliza? Why do you suddenly sound more on edge?" Veska asked as the AI ran a second sweep of the derelict and Beatrice, intending to locate the life sign Eliza had reported, as well as hopefully, whatever had cycled the airlocks.
"Simple, Veska. Mana is derived fram life. No life, no mana. So either this ship is magitech and still holdin' a charge, or this thing's somehow alive in some way. Charge in place. Eligos, pull back five meters," Eliza instructed as she pushed herself back down the way she'd come.
"How is that even possible, though? Mana users are absurdly rare in the Orion Spur, and the designs are almost certainly of Terran origin. The alloys certainly are."
"I'm na sure, but I'm hopin' we donna regret learnin' that lesson. Breachin' in three, two, one.."
Laugher would echo through the comms as a reaction to Veska's little speech, that is until Elisa spoke up and he muted himself. What even was that? Sounded similar, a latin language to be sure, but waaay too fast and angry for him to pick up. As he waited, tentatively trying to remain upright...well as upright one could be in space. As such he would be caught off-guard by the sudden appearance of a faintly luminescent object at his side, a sort of hook or fixture, composed of seemingly light and attached to a chain of the same energetic composition, stretching across the connecting bridge, all the way to the black silhouette of Eliza in the distance...and just like that she zoomed right next to him, her momentum stopping right as her hand connected to the fixture...
"Neat gadget."
He idly commented after switching his comms back on, the sight of the woman pulling out her weapons causing him to reach for his axe. He was never a great marksman, and in space the recoil of his weapons would most likely send him drifting straight out of the bridge and into the starry void. Not thank you. Gloved mechanical digits cling to the sides of the bulwark, propelling him ahead at a slow but constant pace, more and more straightforward with each burst as he gets the hand of throwing around his weight in no gravity. Despite the general unnerving atmosphere present across the blackened derelict, he found himself having fun with this experience...the chemical cocktail flowing in his veins may or may not be helping with that however. He was pulled back from his little moment however, as Veska and Eliza started discussing about something called MANA, an energy type as far as he could infer, but the fact that she linked it to life caused him to pause.
"Ok, sorry if I have to get after-school special in here, but...mana? Lifeforce? You are making this sound way more occult than scientific. Mind giving me a 101 on the subject?"
He eventually called out as she placed the charge, idly floating on right past her and settling next to the rather visible console. There he would patiently wait as she placed every single charge, index hovering over the button, the amused grin occupying his face hidden by the gas-mask, but visible through his eyes as he waited right until she turned her head to him before pressing the button.
"Doors' unlocked. You make me look bad when I'm the less paranoid and gun-ho of the two of us."