Dark Summit: The Point of No Return

[Reanimator Buns]

It had been about three month since Captain Arthus had last stopped at Tortoniga. He had picked up a few new crew mates since then. Each had their own reason for participating in the life of a pirate, and each had their own views on what they were doing. By this time, everyone had gotten to know each other, though that didn't mean everyone was particularly fond of each other. Captain Arthus remained at the helm, writing his logs as they flew through the vast sea of stars. They were on their way back to Tortoniga, after the most recent run in with the Federation. They had stopped a supply run, and raided it's goods for their own usage. Of course, they could only take so much within their moderately sized craft. Though things took a strange turn for them on that day.

A message. A cry for help. Or what was likely supposed to be one. All they could hear was a ringing, and a voice speak. It was hollow and robotic. Then whimpers. A man who was terrified for their life. There sat the crew, all had heard the ominous cry for help. Captain Arthus had it's signal tracked, finding where it was located, though soon after, the signal vanished. Something did not want that message to be heard. Well unfortunately for them, they already knew something was up. Arthus showed excitement, seeing this as a chance to learn something valuable about the Federation, or even just a chance at free loot.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jeremiah stood just below the Captain's perch. He had heard the message just as all the others. It gave him a bad feeling, but as usual, he trusted the Captain's judgement. The ship went flying through space at high speeds, finally reaching the FS Eclipse. An old war ship. It was perhaps twice the size of Dark Summit. There seemed to be no external damage outside of it, and all the power sources seemed to be online. So what had happened to it. The ship was docked, and the Captain called upon his men.

"Right men, listen well. This here is the FS Eclipse. You all heard that transmission, and are likely aware of the dangers. As always, I'll be headin' on board. I'm not requirin' any of you to join me inside. After all, not all of you are trained for combat. But you all keep your Coms open, Ya hear? We may need to get flying at a moment's notice. So all who are coming, get your suits on. Something foul lurks inside. Find out anything you can about the attack, and grab anything that might prove useful. All clear?!"

"Aye Aye Sir!"

Jeremiah spoke from his spot. He grabbed his gear from the docking bay, and had slipped into his suit. His helmet was in his hand, and strapped to his hip was a Standard Issue Federation Blaster, while strapped to his back he had an assault rifle, in case things got hairy. It was now for the rest of the crew to decide. After all, whatever was there seemed to have caused quite the predicament for the crew of the FS Eclipse. Jeremiah knew in the back of his mind that whatever they found would change things forever. After all as soon as they boarded it would be

 

[Verite]

Yo ho, yo ho. A pirate's life for her.

It was strange in a way, how similar the life of a space pirate was to a mercenary like she used to be. For one, most of the time, you had to live off the grid through false identities, as these kinds of professions aren't exactly government approved, but that, along with having to move every now and then, likely came with the territory. After all, Tortoniga wasn't a place that Chala Bachika believed was exactly an ideal home, but then again, she hadn't felt like she was at home anywhere in a very long time.

Not even on the Dark Summit.

Then again, it had only been three months. Who knows? Maybe she could grow into it. Of course, she doubted it. Lots of people on this ship. Not exactly what she was used to. At least, not in a small while. And some more talkative than the others. A very jarring change to say the least. However, even if it had admittedly come across her thoughts every now and then, she couldn't begin to compare it to her old comrades from back in the day. There wasn't anywhere near as much sense of camaraderie here, which was fun. Chala didn't need to be particularly close to a lot of people as long as she knew their limits and they knew hers so that they'd become a more effective squad, but these kinds of people...

Well, whatever.

In any case, we were getting off track now. The point at hand right now was that... If the life of a pirate resembled the life of a mercenary in at least one aspect, it was that they both certainly had their fair of action, which was nice. These days, being on the edge of death was what made Chala the closest to feeling alive. ... Heh, that did sound a little dramatic, especially for Chala's tastes, but it wasn't exactly inaccurate. But again, it seemed that we were steering off-topic.

Chala thought little of it when a random distress signal would be called from an old ship, and then mysteriously turned off. Probably some raiders who invaded the ship, inhabited by some nice old people who decided to send out a plea for help, and then were promptly silenced by said raiders. Chala was fairly determined to get there fast of course, not out of some concern to dashingly save the helpless, but just to get the supplies before the other pirates (presumably) could get away with them.

Even if they were already a little overstocked with supplies.

That said, Chala was itching for some action. Following Jeremiah with a much more unassuming (or rather, uncaring) mindset, she equipped herself with a shotgun and two pistols (not to dual wield, because that was actually very impractical). Though in normal open areas, she'd prefer a sniper rifle, combining its destructive power with her deadly accuracy in order to maximize damage on the enemy party, it'd prove to be impractical and messy in a close quarter place like the inside of the ship, hence the shotgun which, though normally more sloppy in Chala's eyes due to the sporadic recoil and all-over-the-place aim, was now suddenly useful in this kind of situation.

Catching up to the first mate, walking alongside him as she'd attach her weapons to her belt, the usually reticent woman spoke up, though didn't even so much as look at Jeremiah. "You seem on edge," she observed, "Does the thought of other pirates out there usually give you cold feet?"

@Reanimator Bob​

 

[Blighted_Agent]

Greos Muntor was feeling conflicted, and none too pleased about that. He had been in the middle of some repair work when the message had been intercepted and then cut off. Truth be told, as often happened he had been far too absorbed in his work to notice and he'd been forced to ask some of the workers what the commotion had been about. After that, the Captain's message had come through.

On the one hand, he still had work to do - the Summit was a capricious beast, and tending to her whims was his job; leaving things halfway through was not why he was brought on board after all.
On the other, however, this was a federation warship, which meant that it carried some real fancy equipment, tech and gear. A man of his passion and faith could not let such an opportunity pass by, danger or not. Reclaiming whatever was possible from the ship would mean giving the Summit a boost and having leftovers for bartering on their next stop, maybe fixing up a few goodies for himself and some of the other members of the crew.

Having loudly commanded that nobody go near where the current repairs where taking place, he'd quickly gone to fetch the assorted goodies he liked keeping on his belt - tools of all kinds that he could fasten to his gauntlet, and a few... protective measures he'd acquired. Nothing too fancy - smoke bombs, flashbangs, ammo for a host of different weapons he wouldn't use, tear gas, circuit scramblers... A prepared man was worth twice as much as one that was not, certainly. He blessed his gear and went to fetch his suit.

After suiting up, stubbornly keeping as much of his usual outfit as possible, Greos was walking towards the area from which they'd board when he saw the first mate and the gunner woman. Casually approaching the two, he lazily waved from a distance with his left hand, gauntlet still on, and called out while tipping his cap towards Chala with a smile on his face.

"Ma'am Bachika, a pleasure. Jeremy, you 'n the lady hoppin' on I see. Wonder who else from our merry little crew's gonna show up? FS Eclipse don't seem too welcomin', I reckon..."

 

[Ramboing]

Doc
​

Prior to the message, Paden was enjoying a nice liquor induced nap. But like all good things it came to an end when he was called by the captain to hear the strange message. He had seem all sorts of stuff during his lifetime, yet for some reason, the message gave him the chills. Whatever the hell was going on that ship, he wanted to stay as far as fucking possible.

That was the perk of the resident doctor: he wasn't required in combat. He could just sit back and relax in the med-bay while drinking a bottle or two. However, before he could leave, the captain ordered him to give a brief medical exam to the party and give them some safety rules. Fuck me... You just gave them one.

He approached the search party and straightened himself out. In one hand he held a bottle of whiskey, and in the other he had a shotgun. Doc took one long swig before yelling. "OI YOU LOT!" he shouted to everyone to get their attention. "The captain wanted me to you a couple of safety pointers. So I'm going to give you a few rules. You better fucking listen to them. Rule number one. If you see something weird, DONT FUCKING TOUCH IT. I can tell you all the bloody times somebody ended back in the med bay cause they touched some fucked up object. Rule number two. If you find a body, bag it and tag it so I can look at it. Its fucking simple. Finally, rule number three. If you find some booze, bring it to me. I swear, if I find out that someone left some booze on that god forsaken ship, I will personally fucking end you." He emphasized his point by pumping his shotgun. "Now go out and come back to me in one piece. I dont want to have to fucking sew you back together." With that, he turned around and walked away quickly. If he was quick enough he could get back to the med bay before he had to do some more annoying tasks. Why the bloody hell did I join this fucking ship?​

 

[RJS]

Carlo lounged idly on his bunk, tossing a throwing knife between his hands as he stared intently at a small target on the opposite side of the room. The knife spun and twirled as it flickered from left to right and back again - anybody without Carlo's background would be risking a hand if they were to try and replicate his stunt. As his eyes focused further, the blade leapt between his hands at an ever faster rate, until his right hand snapped forwards. The steel flashed from his hand, smacking into the target to the right of the centre mark. Sighing, Carlo slid out from his bunk, and strolled over to retrieve it. He had never been the best at throwing in his class, and had always been forced to do extra practise, even up to the end. Even now, he still practised, in case it was needed. Yanking the blade from the target, Carlo considered his time on the ship so far. Space was pretty boring at the best of times. The mercenary woman didn't like to talk, the doctor liked to drink, but not in a fun way - more of a gloomy morose kind of way, and lots of the others were busy semi-permanently. He'd had the time to familiarise himself with the ship, and had identified 3 routes from front to back which he could move along without being detected by people or the automated security. Boredom made him twitchy, and being twitchy made him practise.

As a result, a big grin spread across his face at the Captain's message. The knife was slid back into its sheath, and the bandolier of knives was fastened across his chest. His weapon of choice - based on an ancient sword design called a khopesh, and made to his specification following graduation - was sheathed at the back of his belt. The blade hooked round completely at the top edge, giving a heavier striking force almost akin to that of an axe. Unlike the original design however, Carlo's was sharpened on both sides of the blade for a little extra versatility. A few data drives slid into pouches - malicious software capable overriding most basic security systems. He ran through his mental checklist - all accounted for. Slipping out from his room, Carlo eagerly made for the docking bay.

He was surprised to see the engineer here...what was his name again...Goran? Grenn? Greos, that was it! The man seemed the sort to be much happier tinkering away safely on board, but here he was in his suit, ready to go. Carlo waved merrily, before slipping into his own suit, ensuring that all his equipment was transferred to the outside of the suit so it would still be easily reachable. All ready to go, Carlo sauntered over to the rest of the group with a wide smile on his face. "So, see we finally get a chance to stretch our legs! Mysterious spooky ship, and nobody knows what happened? Sounds like fun, no? What's the plan once we get aboard?"

 

[Potatocat]

Having just successfully pulled the Dark Summit along side the much larger FS Eclipse, Greg let out a sigh of minor relief. He chuckled to himself as he realized that the majority of the crew didn't realize how easily they could have all died. He mumbled to himself as he fiddled with the controls ensuring that the ship was firmly in place and wouldn't be totally fucked in a couple minutes when it shifted relative to the Eclipse. "Dumb asses don't appreciate what it takes to move a several hundred ton balloon around in deep vacuum."

He listened to the Captain's orders and watched as several of the crew prepared to board the Federation ship. He pulled a small bottle out of a small bottle of pills. Throwing back his head, he downed a couple. "So uh, Vicky, would you mind getting on a route out of here? You know, in case we need to make ourselves scarce in a hurry? I've got a bad feeling about whatever the hell is going on here." He looked out the window at the hull of the Eclipse. "There's not a fucking lick of damage on her hull."

As he finished his sentence he could feel the narcotics kicking in. His pupils dilated slightly and the throbbing pain in he arm and leg dulled. He relaxed slightly and went back to monitoring the controls and read outs, carefully watching for anything strange with how the ship was acting.

@Applo

 

[Applo]

"so uh, Vicky, would you mind getting on a route out of here"

Tor wrinkled her nose, she'd asked Greg hundreds of times not to call her that. She knew that he thought he was being funny. The only other person that called her Vicky was her dad and she hated it when he did it too. Vicky always sounded like the name of one of the woman who hung around the entrance to the mining sites back on mars waiting for the freshly paid workers to come off shift. The problem was when she'd come aboard three months ago come been so nervous that when she'd introduced herself to the rest of the crew she'd given her proper name.

Anyway she was working on plotting multiple routes away from the FS Eclipse. Ever since she had started working as a navigator she had plotted multiple pathways for the pilots she'd worked with. It had started because she had been so scared that that the crews would think she didn't belong on board.

In the proceeding twenty minutes a hush fell over the bridge broken only by a few inane wise cracks from Greg and the of Tor fiddling with the beads on her wrist as she double checked all the routes she'd planned to make sure Greg didn't fly them into an asteroid field. When she was happy with her work she titled them so Greg would know what situation each one was suitable for and then loaded them into the navigation system.

"Greg"

"Greg"

"Greg!"

She hadn't meant to shout but she always talked so quietly unless she deliberately spoke up.

"The plots should be available to your screen now"

After a moment there was a small grunt from Greg that she took for an acknowledgement. Standing up quietly she arched her back to chase out the kinks that had formed from hunching over the charts. After several deeply satisfying cracks she spun on her heels and headed for the pressure chamber that the boarding party had departed from, detouring only to pick up the small side arm she carried out of deference to the captain when they were doing this sort of thing.

Tor had no dreams of suiting up and chasing after the boarding party. She'd only been aboard ships they had raided twice, both times the captain had had her plot a course and start up the engines so that the ship would lead anyone else interested in it away from the Dark Summit. Even then either Chala or Jeremiah had gone with her to keep her safe. No she was quite content with being ready to help shift what ever they had 'procured' from the Eclipse to the hold.

She wouldn't be needed back on the bridge unless they were deep in the cacky and she need to navigate a course as they went, so she settled herself on a ledge opposite the doors and contented herself with fiddling with the beads round her wrist and listening to the boarding party over her comm system.

 

[Reanimator Buns]

"It's not pirates I'm worried about. I think if that's what we're dealing with, there'd be more external signs of a struggle. Right now, there's something more here."

It seemed they had all arrived, save their Navigator who had decided to stay behind. That was probably for the best. They needed them at any moment, just in case things became... unsavory. The group stepped forward into the docking station, under the captain's orders. The air slowly began to be released as they entered the depressurization process.

~hissssssssssss~

That familiar noise indicated the end of their wait. A female robotic voice gave the all clear.

"Depressurization, Complete."

They stepped into the Eclipse, and the process repeated itself in reverse this time. The tension was only to rise as their wait neared it's completion. The doors opened, releasing them into the silenced ship before them. To their left was the way to the Helm and captain's quarters. The right housed the Cargo hold, and within the Lower levels, likely the inner workings of the ship. The ship seemed to be running on auxiliary power, it's lights only dimly shinning across the halls. Their seemed to be no real signs of life, deceased or living at the moment.

The captain spoke up to the group.

"Alright Men, time to get pillaging. Search for anything useful, be it lives, equipment, or even just a few logs. Now get to it! Me and Jeremiah will be heading to the Captain's Quarters. All ya, you know where best to find your place."

The captain then walked off with Jeremiah close in tow. There were quite a few loose wires here and there. Something seemed to be trying to disable the ship currently.

 

[RJS]

Carlo waited patiently as the airlock hissed. He wasn't overly concerned as to what was inside - after all, he rarely did know. Part of his job always involved finding out what was in the way first. This was no exception. His hands patted over his body - everything was positioned as it should be, and he could grab a weapon relying on muscle memory alone.

As the doors swung open, he ran over the list. It was never named - the Omens knew the list or they failed when it counted. Lighting - poor, but present. Background noise - none. Move with extreme care. Signs of life - none. Either deserted or very prepared. Best to be vigilant in case. Allies - scattering, cannot rely on immediate backup. Any other information - ship undamaged from inside, but signs of damage within. Whatever caused the distress call to occur had happened inside.

His checks completed, Carlo slowly moved forwards, shifting towards a slightly shadowy patch towards the left. After the captain's orders, he activated his own commlink, messaging the group with a slight grin and a cheerful tone.

"I'll follow you two for now. Going to see what data I can gather from the Helm after I crack her open. Happy to take point if you want - I have a knack for seeing things before they see me."

 

[Verite]

"Maybe they're really careful pirates," Chala said when Jeremiah would give his reply, still seeming to think little of the odd absence of external damage that the ship seemed to have. Still, admittedly, it did bother her just a little. He did have a point, after all, but even so, she hated doubting herself. She hated doubting in general. It clouded the mind and made it vulnerable to being distracted by thoughts of all other sorts of possibilities, while the young woman had always thought it more practical if one were to just focus on what they did know, rather than what they wanted to know.

But that was enough of that.

The Gunner took note of the captain and Jeremiah heading to the Captain's Quarters with Carlo in tow. In a place like this, she knew it was considered strategically unsound to go on your own, even despite the fact that other people would decide to make the extremely stupid (in her opinion) choice of splitting up, but even despite that, Chala would decide to head to the right side of the ship, specifically going out to the Cargo Hold. If there was something that pirates would be after, it'd be after supplies. And if there were any life signs remaining, they'd certainly be there, right?

That said, admittedly, another reason why she split up away from Captain Mordok, Jeremiah, and Carlo, was one simple thing; Carlo was probably going to talk a lot. Chala didn't like a lot of talking.

It wasn't anything personal.

That being said, making sure that the flashlight on her weapon was on, Chala clutched her shotgun tightly, remaining wary, yet calm and cool-headed as well. Good thing she wasn't claustrophobic or scared of the dark.​

 

[Blighted_Agent]

Greos had noticed how the ship was almost unscathed. Hostile takeovers didn't happen with such care...

Upon entering the ship, after the pressurization process, Greos muttered a prayer to himself. He had to reach the ship's inner workings, and so, activating his visor/scanner monocle, he went left, after Chala. Greos knew that the woman wasn't one to entertain small talk in spite of his efforts, so he decided to concentrate on whatever data he could pick up on, firstly from the loose wiring. The combination of Chala's flashlight and his visor/scanner monocle let him see with decent clarity in spite of the dim lighting.

Greos knew that an opportunity like this should not be passed by, but it still meant going headfirst into possible danger. Truth be told, he was more than a little relieved about not going alone in this direction after splitting off from the Captain, Jeremy and that Carlo fellow. Chala was, after all, a professional.

As Greos walked, he'd make sure to try and scan any doors or hatches he came across, trying to determine if they were locked or not.

 

[Applo]

"B&%*@$KS!!"

A pair of the Summit's engineers paused mid conversation and turned to peer down the corridor the expletive had just come from, but carried on when only the sound of something small bouncing of the metal floors followed the sudden expletive.

Tor watched dejectedly as the handful of wooden beads than normally nestled round her left wrist bounced across the floor. A sudden burst of static on the comms system had made her to jump, causing her to pull at the beads hard enough to snap the old twine they were threaded on. After allowing herself a couple of moments to recompose herself Tor hopped off the ledge she had been perched on and crouched down to start recovering the beads while making a mental note to ask Greos if he had any cable or something to re-thread them on going spare.

It surprised Tor that Greos had joined the raiding party as he was nearly as allergic to go aboard the ships they targeted as her. Part of her really wished he hadn't gone aboard, the general tension on the ship whenever the captain boarded another vessel always rocketed and it would have been nice to talk to someone. Talking to the raiding party was right out and the only people left on the ship that weren't busy were Greg and the Doc neither of which appealed. Greg always became much harder and more depressing to talk to after taking his medication and frankly the Doc scared the sh, Tor paused and mentally filtered her thoughts, The Doc scared the hell out of her.

Sighing she reached into one of her many pockets and fumbled around until she felt the little data drive her parents had given her. After plugging it into her headset she flicked through the folders till she found the one with the music that had been sent on the original Mars colonial lander all those centuries ago and always made her feel at home. Pressing play one the first song on the list she closed her eyes and began to sing along.

GIVE IT UP

As the song began to fade the comm set cut over the music with a small cough and some saying her name. Tor's eyes shot open and almost immediately saw the little red light at the corner of her vision that meant her mic was live. Instantly her face began to glow with embarrassment and she fumbled to switch of her headset.

"Oh F&*K, W%@K, SH*&TING ARSEHEAD AND HOLE!!"​

When she felt a minutiae better switched her headset back on, she couldn't tell for certain but she was sure someone was laughing very quietly.

"I'm really really sorry Captain, I promise it wont happen ever again, sorry everyone."

Making sure her mic was switched off Tor sank against the wall, slid down to the floor and contemplated an immediate future of repeatedly smacking her head against the wall.​

 

[Potatocat]

The fairly hefty dose of narcotics having come into full effect, Greg sat at the helm of the Dark Summit absent-mindedly looking over the routes Victoria had provided for him. They all seemed more than appropriate, but he chose two in particular to properly memorize. They both left the area at the same general heading, but the particulars were different enough to be safe if the other became a bit to dangerous in a hasty dash out of the area.

Even though his eyes were glazed over and his body was numb, Greg was still plenty capable of piloting the vessel safely. It had been brought to his attention, repeatedly, that if he took a lighter dose that he would most likely find himself plenty well relieved, but also much less impaired. He always shrugged off any such suggestions. In reality, the pain ran much deeper than medication could realistically dull.

 

[Ramboing]

Doc
​

In the med bay far from the action, Doc was enjoying a nice booze fueled nap. He enjoyed sleeping in his office. And by office it was more of a small room with two operating tables and a bunch cupboards with a mix of booze and medical supplies. Scattered throughout the room are empty bottles of whiskey and other forms of acohol. It was heaven.

At the moment, Doc was sleeping on his wheely chair drooling on the floor with an empty bottle in his hand. Every second or so he would snort and shift his body. Suddenly some outlandish music blasted through the speakers of the med bay. Usually they were hooked up to the coms of the search party and were not that loud, but this time music boomed waking Doc up jerking him out of his chair and tossing him on the floor. "*OUF*" He jumped straight up. "What the BLOODY HELL IS THAT NOISE!" He recognized that music. It was old. Very old and only one person on the ship listened to that music. His suspicions were cofirmed when a familiar voice fired a stream of explitives. He rose angrily from the floor and moved to his com piece and shouted, "TOR!!! I swear on me Mum if that was you that woke me with that SHITTY MUSIC I'm going to FUCKING KILL YOU!!" He was so enraged by the sudden wakeup that he didn't care that he was launching a barrage of explitives on the open com that everyone could hear.

 

[Reanimator Buns]

The groups were decided, and they split to their respective corridors. Both would see the occasional sparking wire, and flickering light. As Chala and Greos walked along the corridor, they mechanical whirring was audible. But no noticeable machines were in sight, and it was evident that the sound was not originating from the engines. It was far too small a sound for that. However, they soon reached the door to the Cargo Hold with no disturbances... and without seeing a single human in sight. This was strange, as they hadn't seen any sign of human activity quite yet. The door to the Cargo Hold would not budge. A red light was displayed on the screen beside it.

Emergency Lockdown Initiated

It seemed that they needed a different way in, or a way to open the door.

--------------------------------------------------------------

*beep beep beep beep*

A sudden upload to the ship! It seemed to hold a detailed map of the Eclipse, including maintenance shafts. Several sections were marked. One was the Cargo Hold, marked in red, the engine room, also marked in red, as well as the medical bay, still marked in red. The final room happened to be the captain's quarters, marked in blue. But no other information was given. It seemed that it could be possible to track the exact location from where it was uploaded, but it would need a fair amount of technical know-how, and would put the Summit at risk of possible malware uploads, while searching.

--------------------------------------------------------------

Back with the Captain, Jeremiah, and Carlo, the group approached the bridge. Again, no idea where any signs of life could be. As they approached the bridge, it was evident that there was not nearly enough power being sent to the controls. It seemed the majority of auxiliary power was being routed to the life support systems on board. But of course, no one knew when that would give out, so it was best to keep their helmets on.

"Alright ya lot! Try to see if you can find any logs to download. We might get a better idea what is on board. And what happened to the crew. Now get moving!"​

 

[Potatocat]

Robert watched with glazed eyes as the highly detailed maps of the Eclipse popped up on his console. He flicked his comms onto the main channel. "Uhhh." He awkwardly bleated out. "Guys.... there's uh, a bunch of stuff that was just transferred to our computers. I don't really know what's going on. Did you guys on the Eclipse send this stuff over?" Greg was always a bit nervous when weird stuff happened with the computers. He didn't know much about them. Perfectly familiar with plenty of piloting and navigation related programs, he had no problem using computers, but his experience stopped there.

 

[RJS]

Carlo spent the entire journey scanning the corridors they walked down, the tensions and suspense sending thrills up and down his spine. This was what he lived for: this moment of glorious possibilities before everything exploded into action. They could walk into a hostile patrol around any corner, or they might stumble upon some forbidden secret, or maybe they would smoothly slip by a half-asleep guard dozing at his post. It was almost a disappointment when they reached the bridge with nothing untoward happening. Carlo checked the instruments as the Captain spoke - it was as it seemed, the main helm computer seemed to be in some kind of standby mode, without anywhere near enough power running into it to allow it to function properly. So either he had to try and divert power to the main console and try and crack the encryption on it, or he had to find the data storage devices and take them with him. He turned to the Captain. "I might be able to get this thing awake, at the potential cost of any of the other systems that are currently running off the backup power. Even if I do, there's no guarantee I'll be able to then get into the system to access the logs. The alternative is that if the databanks are accessible, I may be able to remove the drives and grab hold of the logs that way. I can bypass some of the security programs that way, but there's a slight risk of data corruption. My current thinking is to try them sequentially, taking the data drives with me if I can't crack the system encryption. Permission to potentially disengage various systems Captain?"

 

[Blighted_Agent]

Greos actually jumped when the crew medic began to swear like crazy. It appeared the ever-drunk oaf had woken up from a drunk nap; Greos could only sigh and ask the Stars to preserve the man's liver and for Them to grant the poor navigator patience. He knew she was likely to just take it as is, something that, of course, would not do. Not to mention, he was quite a ways away from the Doc's potential wrath...

"Pardner, I don't like 'er music too much neither but ain't no need to talk to our Lady Navigator like tha'! Go back 'n sleep, yer crowdin' out the comm channel!"

Greos, upon reaching the locked door with the lockdown notification, would look give it a few taps in different locations with his gauntlet before moving to the nearby control panel, inspecting it with his visor, and easily popping up the latch to its internal workings, then he'd turn towards Chala, saying,

"Guess we're stuck 'ere, Ma'am. I'm better with 'em thar mechanical parts, not so much with workin' electronics. I can try 'n force the circuits to git this baby to open up fer us, unless you'd like to try yer hand at hackin' it first. Tha' aside, m'visor detected an unlocked hatch a few meters back; all else fails we can work startin' from it."

 

[Applo]

"Uhhh. Guys.... there's uh, a bunch of stuff that was just transferred to our computers. I don't really know what's going on. Did you guys on the Eclipse send this stuff over?"

Untucking her head from her knees Tor pulled a small tablet from one of her many pockets to have a look at what Greg was talking about. As she flicked through the data package her brow furrowed in confusion. She was no technical wizard but something in the coding seemed off. For the most part it looked liked standard federation programming, not hugely different to the Summit's own, but then there were small bit that seemed to be a different language. Try as she might she couldn't make heads or tails of any of it, all she was sure of was that it was far from normal.

"Uh Captain, whatever just uploaded to the ship has a map of the eclipse on but there's something seriously hinky with this data, it's got bits that look like nothing I've seen before"
​