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May 2023 It's been hectic this last year, but we are alive and celebrating our fifth year of adventure and tales. A lot has been worked on to help make the Monoverse one that everyone can enjoy and explore their story while becoming a part of the greater cosmos. All of you, new and long time players, stay safe, and see you in the Sea of Stars!
The Orokin Cluster is embroiled in war. Between the Grineer, the Corpus, the Infested, and the biomechanical Sentients, those from the Orion Spur stranded in the aftermath of the Event Horizon are caught in the center of chaos, coming to understand a position held precariously by the enigmatic Tenno. Their objective now is to survive long enough until rescue from the Spur can arrive, and find out anything possible about this previously unknown region.
Mission Completion will return the stranded Orion Spur natives to Galfed Territory, while contact has now been made with the region. Secondary objective rewards will be determined.
the things that you might like don't grow inside of me
It was dead. Vincent was nearly shaken off his feet by the sudden rumble and shift of the Horizon dropping out of whatever FTL method it had been utilizing but ultimately still standing by the end of it. The same couldn't be said of Lockheed, Eligos had taken multiple hits getting between Weir and Vincent's shots, Anna still had a bullet hole in one of her legs and nearly all of them were empty on ammunition... but it was dead, and the chamber had shifted back to its relatively mundane mechanical counterpart.
Finally lowering the beam pistol and holstering it to his armor's thigh clamp, Vincent was unmoving for several seconds as he simply stared at the empty space where the heart had been. Helmet tilting downwards, the name tag from Miller's flight suit - all that remained of the man - would cast a gold reflection in his visor, the Spartan's body language inscrutable.
The heart might've been dead but that didn't mean they were done.
Miller's finally sentiments had been a direct mirror to Vincent's own regarding the wreck, and it was something he suspected that Marshall, Anna and even Lockheed would all share. Eligos was the only wild card in that mix as while he'd been quite keen to activate the drive in the first place he'd also been equally enthusiastic about killing the thing responsible for all of this. Ultimately, though, what he wanted didn't matter. If he tried to stop them Vincent was more than ready to shoot him, it was as simple as that, and that likely extended to the two other Spartans present as well. Speaking of-
"It's not much but there's a field kit in that case in the hallway, Anna. Get your leg patched, then get to Engineering. There's a spare EVA suit there from the original SinoViet crew, get it on. Marshall, get Lockheed back on her feet or carry her out failing tha-" Vincent started, only to get cut off as something else spoke - and not one of the other individuals present in the room, prompting the Spartan's helmet to look up and around for the source, Anna pausing just after she'd nodded and turned to begin leaving the room. It wasn't a language Vincent recognized nor one that his armor's translation software was equipped to handle, but he didn't need either to understand the implication. Wherever they'd ended up they were not alone, and once again they were on the clock.
"Latin?"
"Doesn't matter. Go." Vincent answered, Anna turning without another word to leave the room and finally beginning to show signs of a limp now that the adrenaline in her system was wearing off. Following her example the black armored Spartan would pause just long enough to kneel and collect the name patch from Miller's flight suit, pocketing it for safekeeping before turning to quick march towards the case in the hallway.
There was still one thing he had to do before leaving this place, and those forty kilograms of Confed's finest boom called to him.
He had been closer to the blast than the rest, feeling exactly as the gravitonic anomaly triggered, forcing the talons of his cybernetic to dig into the metal grating as he struggled to move forward, arms outstretched holding the flesh and blood avatar of the core they tried to extinguish. Teeth gritted in his mouth, staining his tongue with the taste of blood as he kept his arms held aloft, refusing to let that thing touch any part of the ship, to connect in any way to the creature he had birthed. And then...nothing. His grip collapses upon itself, the one known as Weir vanishing with the darkness, as if he and it were one.
The light flashes and the ship rumbles, the change felt across the surface of the vessel, the dying of the entity that it had become, dragging across the back of his mind, a dull ache as pressure became void,revealing space that didn't exist there before. The vessel shakes, gravity kicks in as inertia is halted, forcing the cyborg down on his knees. He was breathing. Slow, focused breaths, remaining silent and still as the ship creaked around him. It was the Spartan's voice that caused him to stir, the tone of military command bringing a taste of bile to his mouth as his core tensed the words grating even more than they usually would. Worn mechanical fingers reached into his pant pockets, retrieving the sleek metallic cylinder that held his vice, resting it against his pale lips, the electronic flip lighter providing the charge needed to turn it on, a sharp inhale flooding his lungs with multi-hued smoke, his exhalations condensing through his nostrils in neon hues.
Right. Show must go on. With his suit and helmet vaporized by whatever energy had exploded out of him early in the battle, he would be ignorant of the transmissions, but the short exchange between the soldiers let him know something was up. Mechanical and biological joins creak with a queer similarity as Eligos slowly stood, his shoulders rolling with a soft groan, broken shards of ruined military-grade ceramic clattering to the ground as he slowly spoke, pulling the cigarette away with two fingers.
"Latin?"
He echoed the question as he looked over his shoulder towards the group of busy little soldiers. His eyes, that had once been simply brown, where now, unbeknownst to him, pure pitch black, with a brilliant flashing pupil of sheer white, two smaller versions of the one shut permanently by Miller's sacrifice.
"I don't recognise the coordinates that were on the terminal when I kicked the jump. I'd be surprised if we hit ANYTHING remotely close to known space." He calmly shared, as if having the ship jump had been the plan from the get go, the very mission they took. Although that particular bounty mattered little at this point. He canted his head to the side, eyes squinting and unfocusing as he tried to capture the individual words in the noise.
"No...not latin. Similar sounds though so I would bet on at least humanoid or similar throat compositions....Is that...Is that a fuckton of noise or artificial noise-makers? Can't fucking tell..."
The crackle of the communications line was still echoing over the viewscreens and ship's intercom speakers as the lighting units flickered. The same words broadcast again, unsecure, un-encrypted. It was in the open for anyone to hear.
His own MA5 variant compressing inward for storage on his back plate, Spartan Marshall was checking himself for any external armor damage after showing the weapon away. "I'm assuming someone has a viable transport or Prowler to get us all back to Confederation space after that fucked as hell Jump." He glanced to the others of the group, making sure to keep his ears on the communications frequencies. "Whoever they are, they sound impatient and not very friendly."
Post by Eliza Silvermantle on Jan 25, 2020 2:13:31 GMT
Eliza blinked slowly, barely conscious enough to take note of the transition into normal space. She couldn't remember a time she'd felt so tired or in pain. Distantly, she realized her music had played the entire time, and, being a simple machine, hadn't paid the slightest mind to the events as they unfolded, resolutely blaring out AC/DC's Shoot To Thrill amid the relative calm until she halted the music with a whispered order.
"Still alive..gannin ta sleep now," she grunted over the restored comms before darkness took her entirely, unable to fend off the fatigue any longer.
Aboard the Dancing Goddess, Veska had noticed the change, as well, particularly with the absence of the entity that had dared to board the ship's systems, and immediately bolted back to the engine room to reconnect the reactor core to the ship's power conduits. As the ship's power came back online and the AI reestablished comms through the secondary station, she found herself quite baffled by the transmission being broadcast.
"Well that's..different," she mused aloud. "Ship computer, reroute all command controls through secondary access," Veska ordered the dumb AI that ran a number of the ship's systems on a background level while she reopened comms to those aboard the Event Horizon. As new displays lit up, the gynoid frowned. Eliza was injured and unconscious, it seemed, though life signs indicated that she was unlikely to be in any serious danger provided she received a modicum of care within a day or so. So much for getting anything from her, she realized. "Spartan...whatever your name is. Veska here. What's the word? I'm going to try pulling up a chart to see if I can place our location. Is that thing dead? What happened to Eliza? Oh, and please inform Eligos that if he ever does anything insane like this again, I shall need to remove his arms and legs."
the things that you might like don't grow inside of me
As Anna paused by the black hardcase in the hallway to retrieve the medical kit from within Vincent's helmet would make a subtle turn towards Eligos as he spoke, echoing the smaller Spartan's question from a moment earlier - aside from the subtle glance his steady stride towards the hallway would only bear the slightest moment of hesitation or distraction as Vincent took note of Eligos' eyes. Under normal circumstances his first instinct would have been to shoot. Human or not those eyes were a dead ringer for the thing they'd just killed, but the last thing anyone needed right now was another fight and that hesitation was enough to make the Spartan think twice about doing so. That could get handled later, whatever had happened to him. That earlier radio transmission meant that they were short enough on time as it was.
"Like I said, it doesn't matter. Miller left us with a job before he went, and frankly it was a plan I'd settled on from the start if the SinoViet crew was dead and if the vessel couldn't be recovered. I imagine Lockheed would agree. The Beatrice should still be attached to the outer hull since it was hard docked, and there are a few old uses for slipspace drives that hardly anyone remembers these days, mostly because no one bothers to use them that way anymore. It doesn't matter if we don't know where we are. We get to the ship, fire it up and use it to get clear of the Horizon before it blows. Help will find us." Vincent answered, although several moments would pass before he verbally responded to Eligos' questions and comments as well as Marshall's inquiries. Most of that time was spent debating just how much to tell the mercenary in the first place. While it was true that he had helped them all during the final fight that didn't erase the fact that he'd also done exactly as the entity controlling the ship had desired prior to that. At the end of the day the merc had proven to be a wild card, and one that Vincent wasn't comfortable trusting with sensitive details. Not without knowing what he was going to do next or why, and for all Vincent knew the visual changes to the man's eyes merely hinted at something deeper that he couldn't see. Reaching the hardcase that Anna had left open, the black armored Spartan would kneel in front of it and reach in, beginning to quickly sort and measure out the explosive material held within with precise movements.
As he began working on that project, however, another wild card would find itself thrown into the mix that actively made Vincent pause for a moment as he processed what he was hearing. Was that-? The next voice to crackle over the air waves was one the Spartan recognized from their initial boarding, one that had served as technical support for Lockheed's team. More importantly, it had done so from their ship. That was a new development, and while not an entirely unwelcome one it brought a new series of potential implications and complications bundled in a single package.
"... Crimson, just use my callsign." Vincent started after a moment, although the name "Eliza" was a new one as far as he was concerned, something that caused the Spartan to glance over again to the unconscious woman on the deck. That would be something worth looking into, although at this point it was more a personal matter than anything else. Something about the Lockheed name had felt off, and Vincent hadn't been the only one who'd thought as much if Miller's earlier reaction to the name had been anything to go by. It was still entirely possible that everything said so far had been true and he was simply being paranoid, but if it wasn't... well, Vincent didn't particularly enjoy being lied to. He had the ship's name and registration information from before, and-
Right. Those earlier implications. Cutting off his helmet's external audio to explicitly limit the following conversation to himself and the woman on the other end of the channel, Vincent took half a moment to consider his options before speaking again.
"Patch, cover our tracks. Throw an encryption key to 'Veska' when that's done. We already know we're not the only ones out here." Vincent said, addressing the macro stored in his armor for the first time in what felt like hours - and without wasting any time on small talk the program would immediately comply, a small icon flickering at the edge of his HUD when that was done a moment later before addressing the comm channel again.
"Eliza is fine. Unconscious but physically in no danger. Whatever was controlling the ship is dead but I would recommend quarantine and firewall protocols for anything touched by its systems, it's kept my armor and likely my ship clean. On that note, I need you to do something. Your ship got pulled along wherever we went, I'm thinking the same may have happened to mine. Do you have sensors? If so I need you to turn them to these coordinates, relative to the Horizon itself and tell me what you see. Visual if you can, stealth systems will be active if it's there. I need to know if there's anything else out there aside from what I'm hoping, too, we're probably going to have to leave here in a hurry - I'd advise keeping your distance from the Horizon's aft end, there may be debris." Vincent continued, pulling up the numbers as he spoke and sending them as an encoded text message across the channel they were speaking over. With any luck the Prowler he'd arrived on would still be there. Armed, a stealth capable vessel with enough supplies to start a small ground war and with a military grade slipdrive... and most importantly, clean. While the Beatrice would do in a pinch there had been something about the ship that had felt wrong when he'd last been aboard it, and that gut feeling had been with him since the start of this entire job, literally the moment he'd left the Prowler. It would slightly complicate things in that the Beatrice would need to be scuttled as well if they couldn't take it - assuming that the language over the comms earlier meant a potential first contact scenario - but Vincent would gladly take a ship he trusted if it meant just five extra minutes and some use of pulse laser fire.
Pausing again for a moment, Vincent would glance back over his shoulder again to Eligos following the private exchange with Veska, speaking again but this time with his helmet's external audio again active as he addressed the cyborg.
"You've got a warning from Veska. It sounds like you're going to be shot in your limbs if you try to repeat the last fifteen minutes. Marshall - Lockheed. Have to assume we're short on time here."
The silence that followed his question would not go unnoticed by the cyborg, time filled with another inhalation from his electric cigarette, the cocktail of chemicals contained within the cartridge getting lost amidst the plethora of drugs, natural and not, already in his system. He slowly rose onto his feet, his eyes never leaving the trio of soldiers, never blinking, He could guess what was going through that mind. He could FEEL as that rigid military brain struggled to classify him. Black or White. Red or Blue. Friend or Foe. As another second ticks by, Eligos would find himself idly wondering, his left hand twitching slightly. What was the distance between them? What speed could he achieve before reaching the Spartan? He would probably get shot in that mount of time, one, two, probably three times, centre mass so if he was lucky it would hit ceramic plating if he lowered himself. He knew he wouldn't be able to put a dent on that armour, but the visor...he had to see through that thing right? He had a shield, he had seen as much, but he didn't know the limit. Assuming as much speed as he could, full battery from his arm on contact and as much force as he could put into the blow...he may be able to push past the armour and hit the smug face beneath...
His hand relaxed from a fist as the Spartan finally answered, his eyes only moving away once his back was turned to him, moving to focus upon the locked form of Eliza...she would be a bitch and a half to move. "Oh I'm not against blowing this chunk into pieces. Without the heart it is...dead. But a rotting corpse does tend to attract scavengers..." He began with a slight shrug, short calm strides taking him towards the locked armour. "That said, if what we are listening to is a first contact...well I'm pretty sure starting war with an unknown system due to an explosion will put a heavy dent on the payment." He would continue with a pitiful attempt at humour, as if the original job had any meaning at this point. Hell was real, magic was real and...even though the heart was dead he could still feel it. The other side. The fleshy true face of this vessel, hanging there, just beyond sight, just beyond touch...
The words directed towards him snapped him out of his idle musings, the news that the gynoid had not only survived but apparently had hitched a ride with their jump bringing a measure of humour to his pale lips. "Oh Veska...Let her know that I was right, and no promises!" He shouted over his shoulder as he began to ponder the best way to take the locked up armour encasing Eliza, his motions paused as the other Spartan was directed to help him, or seemingly take her himself should he be capable of such .
A dozen ships hung in spherical position around the broken and battered remains of the Event Horizon, and the two small vessels that drifted within kilometers of it. None dared yet close in, but they were cautiously covering all projected escape paths. The vessel had appeared literally from a void in space. That meant it contained something of immense value to the Corpus.
They broadcast their warning again, oblivious and uncaring of the fact no one aboard could understand a word of the transmissions. It was then that one of the Corpus vessels would take the risk and begin to close the distance, with a particular path heading for the massive spherical section of the rearmost area of the massive jumpcraft. If there wasn't a docking lock there, they would make one.
Making sure that the fair haired woman was secured in her hard suit, Marshall carefully hefted her over his shoulder, noting the bit of displacement from about five hundred pounds of armor added to the six-fifty of his own. "Civilian secure, Crimson. Should be able to keep pace as we get out of here." He turned to the cyborg, head tilting a bit warily at what to him appeared to be an incomplete assimilation by the Machine Men. He'd seen it before, but never in a fashion that looked intentionally structured. And then there were those...eyes.
"Not intending to be an asshole, but were your eyes always kinda funky and looking like you got outer space in there?" The blue armored Spartan shifted a bit, waiting to follow Crimson's cue. There was still so much he didn't understand now that they were in a stable spatial location.
Post by Eliza Silvermantle on Feb 5, 2020 19:52:11 GMT
Veska perked an eyebrow, such as her kind had, as she noted the encryption key, and quickly made use of it to secure her end of the communication. "Crimson it is. I'm not detecting any signs of infection on my end, though I did disconnect power as soon as it tried, so that may have saved us," she informed the Spartan as she brought the ship's hyperscanners to bear on the coordinates Crimson had indicated. "I'm picking up a bit of suspicion," she remarked, frowning slightly as the sensors indicated..something. Odd, she should have gotten more than an anomalous reading. Clearly, his ship's stealth capabilities far exceeded their own. "Standby. Hyperscanners are picking up something, but I'm going to need visual to confirm," the AI stated as she donned a headset and routed the comms through to the device. "Incidentally, I read roughly a dozen vessels, unknown make, possibly hostile. They appear to be holding in an enclosing formation, but they haven't done anything else beyond try to talk with people that can't understand them."
A few moments later, Veska looked over the display screens above the ruined command console, scanning the images of the void beyond. "Right, I have it. Looks like a UNSC-era Prowler? Hard to be certain from here, but it looks intact, which is just as well. I can't take on any passengers until I can land for repairs. Seems the entity, whatever it was, saw fit to weld shut all door seals and hatches that were closed, during its short stay here." The gynoid paused for a moment, considering the implications of the Spartan's warning. "You brought a considerable amount of explosives, didn't you? Should I ready weapons on my end?"
the things that you might like don't grow inside of me
"You heard him." Vincent muttered, switching back to his helmet's internals and the comm channel with the Goddess as he spoke again. The Spartan didn't bother to give a direct response to Eligos' comment regarding the potential first contact scenario, however. That would be up to whoever they were. Before taking on the job involving the SinoViet crew Vincent had made a point of touching up on salvage law, same as he'd put in the effort to prepare for virtually anyone he might've crossed paths with at the wreck. And it didn't seem to matter much where that law came from bar the odd cases like Kig-yar where piracy was a cultural touch stone. If survivors were on board you didn't claim it - they had rights to the vessel, same for anyone who got there before you did. If these newcomers had similar laws and boarded the vessel anyways when there was a ship clearly attached to it and functional the implications were less than pleasing. The chances of them wanting to help would be slim to none.
Besides, Vincent mused as he continued to set aside explosives, portioning them out and attaching detonators as he did so - the vast majority of first contact scenarios in human history and otherwise had involved war and murder. He saw no reason to assume that this time would be any different or that the new group's motivations and intentions would be, either.
It'd do them well to assume as much and be prepared just in case. If not.... it'd be a pleasant but very unexpected surprise.
"Priorities, Marshall. Make sure her armor can hold a seal against vacuum. If Eligos can help you get Lockheed to her vessel all the better, I might need your help somewhere else." Vincent said, his helmet showing no inclination to look up and away from his work as he continued to ready explosives. As he spoke, however, he would take a moment to shift his attention and open a second comm line separate from the direct channel to the Goddess - patching Veska into the unit's TEAMCOM. The initial private line would remain since Vincent had a feeling that it would be invaluable, but there was also going to be a need to communicate with Marshall at a distance - and allowing the only other working ship in the immediate area access to those discussions seemed like a prudent decision. Not long after doing so the private line would crackle again, Veska's voice filling the Spartan's helmet and confirming his suspicions.
Additional complications, but not unwelcome ones. Although one of them was something Vincent had really not wanted to hear - under ideal conditions he wouldn't have allowed Eligos anywhere near that Prowler. While he seemed to be on the same side for the time being he was also contaminated by whatever had been controlling this ship, and his willingness to simply connect to the nearest piece of technology available wasn't something Vincent wanted on board his ship.
That said, they didn't exactly have many options available.
"Veska, I've got another Spartan here. He's going to get Lockheed at least partway to your ship, all the way if Eligos isn't fit to get her across the vacuum. I need you to open an encrypted line to him and guide him to that Prowler after that's done, I've patched you into the TEAMCOM so you know who you're talking to. Given that the state of the Beatrice was an unknown we should have what's needed to crack those doors open for you onboard the Prowler and repair vacuum seals as needed afterwards." Vincent said, addressing the private line with Veska before cutting it off and looking up and over to Marshall, pausing what his hands were doing as he did so.
"Marshall, we've got a friendly out there. She's going to guide you once you're off the Horizon. Take Anna with you when you leave, she should be in Engineering just down the hall from Containment and suited up by now. The fewer people we have on board the better."
Observed with a mild sense of bemusement as the other Spartan, the one being called Marshall, lifted the power-armoured Eliza with nary a show of effort...Well that was that. He tilted his head, dark eyebrow cocked up as he felt the one behind the visor stare at him intently, his pursed lips twisting into a cocky smirk as he placed the cigarette back upon them. Direct, straight to the point and seemingly void of the overly-militaristic lingo the other one used...Huh, he liked this one. Maybe they were not all assholes by default. Maybe.What was that about the eyes tho? "What? My eyes? I mean they are probably bloodshot but...outer space? Come here a sec..." Keeping pace with the hulking soldier, the cyborg would reach out for each side of his helmet and lean forward, making use of the golden reflective surface of the visor to gaze at himself and...look at those eyes...
He released the helmet, his eyes closing as he stopped in place, Weir's words echoing in his mind, about how the ship, what it had become, changed those that resonated with him...It had changed Weir into something inhuman. Was he to become the same? Or was it a simple mar that wouldn't evolve since they killed the source... "No." He finally answered, mechanical limbs ambling forward to catch up once more, void eyes gazing dead ahead, past the other soldiers and into the tunnel. "No they were not...I'm probably due for a visit to Doc...IF we manage to get to Daiban again." A shaking hand would grasp the cigarette once more, allowing him to take a drag of the sweet chemicals within, using the sensation to drown out the voices and questions that sparked across his mind
"Oi! Tall dark and grouchy!" He called out to the other Spartan as he headed towards the coolant pool, passing by him while he sets what was no doubt enough explosives to create a short-lived star "My suit got...disintegrated, during that fight. My cybernetics are pretty awesome, but the dark void of space is still pretty deadly on the meaty bits, so if you want me to jump back to the Dancing Goddess, I will need to use one of these suits..." Without further thought he would jump into the coolant pool. the thick fluid surrounding him and sticking to his clothing and cybernetics as he attempted to recover the suit floating within, now eerily devoid of its owner
" A fuck...its a hard-type. Its going to be a bitch to fit my legs here... Yea Imma hold off on putting it on until i have to, otherwise I won't be able to walk much."
The cerulean armored Spartan nodded as he checked the various seals on the hard suit. It wasn't a configuration he was familiar with, but it was basic enough in its construction that he was able to verify a contained environment in the suit. "She checks out, Crimson. We may have to cut her back out once we get to safety in a clean ship, but she's gonna live for now."
There was a distant thud, a rumble as the chamber had a barely noticeable shake. It didn't feel as if the ship itself was moving...but that something had made contact with it.
The audio broadcast again. Those with galactic translation units would notice that there still no match or translation for the language being broadcasted over the intercom speakers. Except now, there was what, in tone, sounded like a warning. Another rumble. Something was docking with the Event Horizon from the rear.
"Crimson, how fast can we reach the airlock and get the civilians to safety before whatever that was reaches us, do you think?"
Post by Eliza Silvermantle on Feb 19, 2020 1:23:44 GMT
Veska observed the makeshift command console quietly weighing her options. The alien ships didn't appear to be hostile, at least, not overtly so, but without any means to understand or be understood by the unknown vessels, it was difficult to be certain. However, if there was to be an EVA operation done, powering weapons might not be the best course, she mused.
"Crimson, looks like you're about to have company. I can't confirm whether they're hostile or not, but their actions so far do appear to fall in line with standard salvage operational procedures. Two so far, but it looks like they're about to make a party of their find." The AI paused, watching the other ships intently. If they did prove hostile once she fired up the engines, they'd not have much time.. "They're in the aft portion of the sphere section now. Marshall? Looks like we're going to need to hurry. Will you be faster if I hold position and ferry you over to the Prowler, or do you want an approach on the Event Horizon?" she questioned, readying herself to enter any number of commands, depending on what occurred in the following moments.
the things that you might like don't grow inside of me
Vincent didn't immediately respond to Eligos' call out, although he supposed that was to be expected after the multiple EMPs and whatever had gotten inside the merc's head - the guy clearly didn't like him, but that was beside the point. It was just another thing to deal with, although the Spartan would speak after the cyborg finished saying something of relevance beyond 'hey, you'.
"All yours. Doubt the original owner will care." Vincent replied, simply nodding in response to Marshall's assessment of Lockheed's own armor without looking up from what his hands were doing. Good. That was very good. While he had sealant in the crate should anything happen to breach the suits available to them it was never something Vincent liked to rely on. Such patch jobs were often shoddy at best, a temporary solution. At worst it was far too easy to miss a microleak and lose what atmosphere the suits had left in transit. It might not have been the people he'd intended to leave with but Miller's loss was already one too many, and Vincent would be damned if he lost anyone else before they got back to known space... even the mercenary, whatever the man thought of the Spartan himself.
What finally would make Vincent look up and away from his explosives work, however, would be a dull thud and thunderous vibration through the Horizon's hull, and one the Spartan had felt all too often before. Hands frozen still with his helmet snapped up and looking towards the back of the room and the apparent source of the impact the Spartan would make not a single movement as he simply listened.
They - whoever they were - evidently intended to make their own entrance if none could be found.
With his perception of the world already different than most the room around him would seem to transition from movement drowned by molasses to a near standstill. It wasn't quite panic that gripped Vincent's chest but it was a sudden realization that his original plan wasn't going to work, even as Marshall asked after the likelihood of their escape and Veska's voice - too late - spoke in his ear. No. No, no, no. They were short enough on options as it was. The ship needed to be scuttled. No one present except perhaps himself and Marshall were in any shape to fight if they needed to. They had wounded to extract and across vacuum, meaning that one of the Spartans had to be present to get them across. Either himself or Marshall as Vincent didn't know who else was rated to pilot the Prowler. Anna given time, but the post-war designs were not the same as the ones she'd known. That left only one person on the Horizon to set the charges before it was boarded, detonate them before they could be disabled, get to the Beatrice after all that was-
A moment of clarity.
The Beatrice.
He'd have to risk an open channel, but-
"Anna?"
"Yes?"
"Are you still in engineering? I need a favor." Vincent started, hands now frantically moving to undo his last few minutes' of work as he returned the explosives to their resting places with all the speed his MJOLNIR assisted hands could muster.
"It have anything to do with that impact just now?"
"Yeah. Artificial gravity, can you shut it off?" Vincent continued, stuffing the last of the explosives back into the case and closing the lid, finger passing over the electronic lock to seal the container shut - looking up and over to Marshall who was still waiting for an answer to his own question, waving the younger Spartan over. Whilst his body language was more than confused the man didn't hesitate or question, though, as Vincent's own movements indicated that haste was of utmost importance. A moment later Anna's voice would return.
"I think so. Now, or you want a timer?"
"Thirty seconds." Vincent answered, before looking over to the visibly confused Spartan-IV carrying Lockheed over his shoulder and speaking again - this time including Veska in the conversation via the TEAMCOM.
"Veska, maglock or clamp to the Prowler if you can, but no electronic contact. I don't want whatever's in your ship risking infection. Do not approach the Horizon. Marshall, grab Anna on the way out as planned but take that hardcase with you, we've got about twenty seconds before she turns the gravity off. That ought to make it easy enough to get everyone off this ship between the lack of weight and your armor's thrusters. I'll be right behind you all but you need to get clear. Anyone left on the Horizon is staying here." Vincent continued, moving out of the way to allow Marshall access to the sealed hardcase. Walking towards the center of the room, his armor's bulk would splash down into the coolant and stride through it as if the liquid weren't there at all as he approached Eligos.
"Out of time, and you won't be doing much walking in a moment anyways. Fifteen seconds to gravity off, do you need help?"
The Cyborg had been wadding through the thick cooling fluid, mildly thankful that the sensation of it getting to his clothing and servos wasn't being felt, the sensors in his cybernetics disconnected for the foreseeable future, at the very least until he could get them repaired. He ha almost reached the edge, the EVO suit carried across his back, when the rumbling echoed across the vast spherical chamber. Everyone froze for just a moment, and by the frantic motions of the Spartan, he knew that their timetable had just been halved.
He took a deep drag from the cigarette, filling his lungs with the sweet vice of the cartridge before turning it off, holding his breath as he stored the metallic cylinder in his pockets. He grumbled through clenched teeth as he removed the helmet from the suit, letting it float in the dark liquid as he tried to stuff his legs inside of it. It was uncomfortable. Horribly so, the leg pieces, the plastic and ceramic plates conforming to a palmigrade configuration, forcing his cybernetic legs to bend strangely, the talons retracting to allow his toes to jam against the tip of the metallic boot. By the time the soldier approached Eligos was placing his helmet on, the resonant hiss and click of it attaching to the coral letting him know it connected, allowing him tos lowly exhale, filling the transparent dome with multi-hued smoke.
"Naw I'm fine...Turning off gravity? That will help mobility. Let us hope our visitors are not prepared for that...Your armour has thrusters right? Mind giving me a push once gravity shuts down? Didn't have time to remove my gear before putting all of this on so my mobility is...shit right now..."
