ataraxionlogs | EVENT: DUPRR ▒ THE SECONDARY SHUTTLE BAY

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EVENT: DUPRR ▒ THE SECONDARY SHUTTLE BAY

CHARACTERS: Ensemble production!
LOCATION: The secondary shuttle bay
WARNINGS: Violence, injury, graphic imagery, death etc.
SUMMARY: Discovery of the secondary shuttle bay and rescue ~~or not~~ of the DUPRR NPCs inside.
NOTES: March 30 onwards.

The doors are torn open as you arrive, metal ripped back like the skin of a fruit. Improvised barricades of tools and carts, shuttle pieces stand as obstacles to be carefully climbed through before you can stand in the shuttle bay itself. The space is vast, flashlight beams penetrating only a certain distance into the dark, but enough to sweep the floor, find the scattered, gored remains of at least three human bodies.

The ship stands as the only complete vessel in sight - or, at least, it was. Windows smashed, the hull torn at, access doors ripped open. The inside empty.

The shuttle bay is silent. But is that the silence of a catastrophe already passed, or of someone hiding, holding their breath?

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He's pushing to a sitting position, rubbing a hand across the stubble along his throat when Rey clips William in the back of the head. His eyes widen as the man's weight slumps to the ground, unconscious. Looking between them, Russe pushes the rest of the way to his feet and lets some of his unease and distrust ebb away.

"Survive," he growls, more agreeable. "Looks like you might be my best shot." His eyes fix on William's unconscious form, and he warns, "You leave him here, more monsters might just come for him. You gonna let your friend die?"

It's a predictable answer, but one that she prefers to hear. When he mentions William, her eyes don't tear away from her companion. She doesn't know whether or not the monsters would attack him while he's out, as so many others have simply ignored them during their trek to the shuttle bay. But she also recognizes that abandoning him to this place also isn't an option.

Adjusting the rifle strap, Rey bends over. She takes William by the arm and, almost effortlessly, throws his dead weight over her right shoulder. Her arm folds to secure him there, as she turns around to face the other man. The palpable strength in her build is more discernible than before, as she's carrying a grown man like he's a sack of flour.

"Not leaving anyone to die." She nods to the exit, her eyes falling back down to the man. "We should get moving. Now."

When she hoists William onto her shoulder, Russe makes two judgments: first, that he was right about her being soft-hearted; second, that her considerable strength was no fluke. His gaze flicks across her body language for a moment, sizing her up, then he nods his assent—as though he has a real choice—and starts for the exit with her, shoulders tight.

"Russe Neson," he introduces, "I'm the pilot." He looks over at her finally, after several minutes of walking in silence. There's something expectant in his eyes, waiting for her to return the introduction.

In all the chaos of what was going on, it was easy to neglect formalities. Some part inside swayed her from the desire of wanting to get close to this pilot, Neson.

With William hauled over her shoulder, she ventures first down the way they came from. She glances to Neson for a moment, studying him, and then turns around to face the path ahead of them, still vigilant.

She blinks, just once. Slow.

"Sergeant Schuyler," she says, her tone shifts ever slightly from the robotic speech she expressed before. "I'm one of the security officers here."

It's not a cover. After all, she was a Sergeant Rey Schuyler at one point in her many lives. Of all the eight women she had once been, Schuyler was mission-bound but also loyal to a fault -- she would never leave a comrade behind, even if they were a liability. Just as she wouldn't abandon William.

It would be easier for a stranger like Russe Neson to warm up to someone like Schuyler than to "just Rey".

"And him?" Russe nods to the body slung over Schuyler's shoulder, wary and ill at ease with him still. Or maybe that's just his general disposition towards the ship, which looks ready to swallow them once they get out into the hallways proper. The monsters, at least, seem to have thinned out, or at least aren't continuing to bother or track them if they are still around. All the same, Russe remains alert, glancing worriedly around.

There's no mystery behind Neson's caution, not after what had transpired against the young man who was so ruthlessly killed in cold blood. Rey can't excuse that, but she can at least speak for him.

"William, our chief medical officer."

She pauses once when they reach the hallways, before she's on the move again, alert and attentive to their surroundings.

Though she doesn't know entirely where her feet are taking her yet, all that matters now is that Neson will follow.

"Have any of the others been retrieved?" Russe questions, following her lead, right on her heels. "You must have a way of communicating with your department."

So far so good. Despite the fact that she's carrying extra weight, Rey doesn't break a sweat, her pace not faltering.

"We do, but we lost contact with each other some time ago. There's always been some kind of interference in these corridors for some reason. We're lucky we were even able to receive your broadcast from your location."

"Wouldn't call any of what just happened lucky," He growls darkly. If he looked run-ragged before the encounter, cowering from the black and fibrous alien, he looks worse now. Dark shadows form below his eyes, giving his already stubbled face a particularly haunted impression. As they move, he simply takes her lead, unable to make a judgment on whether they're heading in the right direction.

No, suppose having your own killed by one of the people the aforementioned broadcast had reached -- who were supposed to help, no less -- wouldn't be considered by any means lucky.

"It wasn't supposed to happen this way." There's an ambiguous meaning hidden in her tones. But as long as she plays as Schuyler, she can keep hiding it. Play the part of the weathered soldier who's seen too much shit.

Not like she'll have to keep at it for too long.

Russe relinquishes an unimpressed grunt on the subject, looking everywhere but Rey. In knocking William out, she's proven herself an ally of his. He doesn't feel any particular compulsion to watch her movements. Rather, he'd like to get an eye for the ship, figure out where they're going. Except he can't seem to figure out where that is, but for a swarming darkness and a steady sensation of moving down.

"No, I don't reckon it's ever supposed to happen that way."

Rey knows that feeling. Remembers it. Has made amends with it. She also feels something tugging away in the back of her mind.

It's not supposed to be this way.

She ignores it.

"Mm," is all she says in response.

It's quiet. Wherever the monsters went, she can't find them in the darkness. Her senses are honed more on Russe's footfalls, ensuring that he is still following her.

Her wrist tightens around William. Even several minutes later, she doesn't tire by carrying him. She's pretty much a glorified pack mule.

After an awkward silence, she finally pipes up again: "I know you're just the pilot, but I've been wondering... Were you aware that this ship has been spacefaring for over one-hundred and thirty years?"

She's curious to know how much Van Rijn has told the DUPRR crew. But also, as Schuyler, she only attempts to make conversation while there's still time between them.

"I know damn well how long this ship's been gone," Russe grouses. His shoulders tight, eyes flicking here and there in the dark, he doesn't look entirely personable or amenable to conversation. In fact, it only seems to be getting darker down here. It's hard to imagine there's any civilization on the other end of it. A creeping feeling persists in his chest, worse the deeper they go. "You sure this is the right direction?"

Interesting.

It doesn't help that Rey isn't entirely talkative herself. Perhaps if William were conscious he'd have a thing or two to say, but as it is her priorities are keeping vigil and making sure no more stragglers surprise them.

Keeping ahead, her only indicator of Russe's presence are his footsteps behind her, and much later his question.

"Yeah, this is the way we came from." She's fairly certain of that, anyway. But after a while some things are striking her as unfamiliar. The emptiness, for one thing, does not inspire much confidence as she makes a turn down a long, stretched hallway moving out into the shadows.

"Perhaps you should consider yourselves lucky we've come, then," Russe comments critically. "Our engineers might be able to look at the ship systems and get some light down here." By now, it's pure inky blackness, such that he can hardly see her in front of him. All he can do is follow the heavy thud of her footsteps on metal. Time, as they descend, loses meaning.

Assuming any of them had made it, but fortunately Schuyler isn't as tactless as Rey would be in this scenario.

"It's good that you arrived when you did," came someone else's words right out of her mouth. Tones of gratitude and appreciation for Russe and his crew. "I don't think we'd have been able to hold out much longer here."

Whether it was three years or one-hundred and thirty, she has been here for far too long.

"Yeah? Why's that?" Russe squints against the darkness to no avail, unable to get a read on Rey in the cover of shadows.

"Look around," she quips, like she's almost surprised. "I've been trapped in this damned thing for a good while. Three years. One-hundred and thirty years. Whatever. And not once has anyone ever come to help us."

"Funny you should say that." The complaint pierces through the darkness. "I can't fucking see anything."

"Right."

She remembers something then. The flashlight William had brought. She keeps walking, but slows down to grab for it with her free hand, reaching for it in her tech pocket while still supporting William over her shoulder.

Still moving, she flicks it on and waves it in front of Russe. "Make yourself useful."

Reaching out, he grabs the flashlight. It doesn't make the journey any faster, but at least it gives him one less thing to complain about. Eventually, Rey would get the impression that they're reaching where they need to be—even if it's not where she's consciously intended to take them. The proper, civilized parts of the ship are far away, but they do come to a door.

Something isn't right, she knows. Over time the feeling becomes more palpable. And it's not just because of the quiet and the lack of people and monsters festering the hallways. It's something else, like a dark descent even with the flashlight illuminating the way.

...And there is the door, and a familiar feeling as her mission changes-- No, it doesn't change. This has been it the entire time, she's certain of that.

"There it is," the words come out. Her pace is slowing down.

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EVENT: DUPRR ▒ THE SECONDARY SHUTTLE BAY

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