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Quixor
Quixor studied Rosaline as she updated him. His solider's armed with guns. He didn't bring a gun with him, since he knew it was one of his weaknesses. He rests his hands on the hilt of the dagger at his side. A long sword graced the centre of his back this time, a brief stop at his quarters private armory let him select this weapon for himself. His cloak no longer to be seen. On the battlefield his cloak was a mere hinderance. He lifted his arm to open comms to the ship. "Any sign of them?" His tone sharp. "None, captain". He nodded, letting his arm fall back by his side, releasing the comms. He signalled to his soliders to move them along into the city. The path made clear by Rosaline's description. A holographic map appear at her arm, as she carried it out in front of her, completing more scans as they went. The solider's tread lightly. The silence was deafening. The breeze ruffled Quixor's brown hair, carrying up the dust of the paths as they move. The grains of sand rubbing together created an eerie whistling sound. They reached a plateau of dust covered brick that opened out into a square. The soliders around him fanning out to secure the area. In front of them lay a ship. Quixor tilted his head, he quickly raised his arm to open comms again with the ship. "They're here" was all he said. The ship lay abadoned in front of them. Only room for one pilot. The Coalition insignia splashed along the side of the hull. Quxior glanced at Rosaline for the directions and any signs of the life form of the ship now in front of them. Experiment 42
The creature sniffed the air and screamed. The animalistic like noises, celebrating its freedom. The collar, it chewed on, tearing at it. It would allow no room for error this time. Cass
Cass lowered her hand slowly. "Captain" The emergency liquid, she had placed on the floor beside her she grabbed. "Drink this, it'll make you feel better" She huffed, looking up she looked at the men around her. Some of them now studying the box the creature came from. "You..." She shook her head. "You opened the cargo without us. A creature seemed to be in one of the boxes..." She paused to let him adjust. "It was killing you" She shook her head, a few of the auburn strands of hair working their way loose from her delicate braid. There was a familiar tension in the air and suddenly a scream rippled the men quiet. Cass' blood went cold. "Pleasseee, tell me you still have that remote" She asked him, as he still lay on the floor. "I can just about control one creature, let alone that monstrosity you keep". The men paused around her. The Zyrix growled. "42... the bastard has escaped" He swung his head towards the corridor the sound came from. Tristan
Tristan felt a wave of temporary relief wash over him as Eon's gaze turned away from him fully now, as he wandered back over to his console. Tristand gazed at his own monitor. He had listened to the commotion. Nothing was ever this far out into the quadrant, save for a few mining freighters. He turned his gaze back to Eon. Did he suspect what he thought it was. Tristan swallowed hard. He hadn't mentally prepared for war today. Luckily this was mostly a science vessel, the horrors of the experiments on board to only which the Doctor had full access to. He was a science officer yes, but he mostly helped gather data when they sent soliders or cadets to investigate planets in the region. Most of which ending up being more space for mining colonies. The air in the room tensed, holding its breath waiting for Dr Eon's command. Whoever it was, he hoped they didn't captured, the torture aboard this vessel was hell... He was sure of it. |
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Rosaline watched Quixor’s movements carefully, noting the way he handled his weapons and the calm precision with which he commanded his men. She had no doubt he was a man of experience, though she had yet to fully understand the depths of his tactics. Her eyes flicked to the holographic map as it glowed faintly in the darkened surroundings, its light a contrast against the pale dust that coated everything in sight. Her mind worked quickly, scanning, updating, analyzing. The breeze caught her hair, but she didn't flinch. The sand, the eerie whistling, and the stillness of the desert pressed against her senses, reminding her of the isolation that defined this place. A place where she had once stood, but had long since fled. When they reached the plateau, she couldn't help but notice the way Quixor’s soldiers moved—methodical, practiced, but still, there was an edge to them, an air of uncertainty that even they couldn’t shake. Even now, with the ship ahead, no one spoke. No one questioned. It was all silent understanding. The ship itself stood out against the landscape—too small for more than one pilot, the insignia clear on the hull, and yet it lay abandoned. A whisper of something… wrong. Her pulse quickened, though she kept her face neutral. She stepped forward, making a subtle gesture with her hand that was meant to convey nothing more than the confirmation of the obvious. “They’ve been here, Captain,” she said, her voice low but firm, “but they didn’t leave in a hurry. There’s still a chance someone’s here.” Her gaze shifted, meeting Quixor’s for the briefest moment. Her mind had already begun calculating their next move, but she didn’t share those thoughts just yet. Not with him. The soldiers were securing the area, but something about this didn’t sit right. Every instinct in her screamed that they weren’t alone—not entirely. “Proceed carefully,” she added, her eyes never leaving the ship. “If there’s anyone, they’ll be waiting.” |
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Eon’s sharp focus on the console barely shifted as the room fell silent, the only sound the hum of the ship’s engines. He could feel Tristan’s eyes on him, the weight of unspoken words lingering between them. The young science officer had a knack for reading the tension, but he didn't know just how deep it went. Eon was always careful not to reveal too much. In his line of work, suspicion was an enemy, and yet, it was hard to ignore the growing sense of unease gnawing at him. Eon’s fingers brushed over the console, his mind racing through calculations and potential threats. The communications had been strange, too brief, too encrypted, and whatever it was out there in the dark void of space had set the alarms off for a reason. He had to prepare for the worst. War, maybe. Or worse yet, something far more insidious. “I’m assuming you’re aware of the implications, Officer Tristan,” Eon finally spoke, his voice low, controlled. His eyes flicked over to Tristan without meeting his gaze fully, aware of the tension in the young man’s posture. "This vessel isn't equipped for combat, but neither is it defenseless." |
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Calyx’s vision swam as Cass’s voice cut through the haze of pain, her words sinking in like a sharp chill. The emergency liquid burned down his throat, but it did little to stop the pounding in his skull. He could hear the men shifting around him, their curiosity about the creature's box already turning to whispers of panic. Damn it, I should’ve checked the cargo. I should’ve— Cass's words struck like a slap, snapping his thoughts into focus. "You opened the cargo without us. A creature seemed to be in one of the boxes…" She paused, letting the weight of it hang in the air, and he could feel the reproach in her silence, even as her eyes flicked to the men. His stomach twisted at the thought. "It was killing you." He felt his muscles tense, his body still weak, but the sharpness of her tone cut through. She was right—he had been reckless. He was always reckless when it came to this damn ship. Cass huffed, and the strands of auburn hair falling from her braid caught his attention, distracting him for a moment. But then the tension in her voice hit him again, sharper than before. "Please, tell me you still have that remote." His hand reached out instinctively, grasping at the side of his belt where the remote should’ve been. Nothing. His heart skipped a beat, and his chest tightened. No. The Zyrix growled, a low rumbling sound that sent a fresh shiver down his spine. His gaze shot to the corridor, following the growl’s direction. "42… the bastard has escaped." Calyx’s mind raced, adrenaline flooding through him despite the pain in his body. That thing is loose now. His heart slammed in his chest, and the air suddenly felt too tight, the walls closing in as his thoughts scrambled. He tried to move, tried to rise, but his limbs didn’t cooperate. He grit his teeth, forcing himself to focus. "We need to get the remote. Now." But the men were frozen, the terror of what they knew lurking behind every shadow. The scream had made it real. And somewhere deep in the bowels of the ship, the beast was waiting. "Find it," Calyx growled, his voice hoarse. "Or this is going to get worse for all of us." |
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(Pausing Quixor for Diamond's response to Neoma) Tristan
Tristan blinked slowly at Eon as he stood at the console. He took in Dr Eon's words. "I'm fully aware" He spoke at last, his tone sounding more confident than he felt. He gazed at the doctor, his stare intense, until they finally broke apart and looked back at the data in front of them. Tristan spoke into the comms "Neoma, be careful out there" He said softly, more of a whisper. Empathy washing over him, fear trickled down his spine for the cadet at what she was facing. Fear laced him further, when he realised he'd never lost someone in the field, let alone someone be captured by the enemy, if that's what it was. His heart pounding in his ears. He would be tortured for the lack of competency and treated like traitor. He swallowed. Praying to the gods of his home, that they would look after the cadet now down on that planet...alone. Tristan watched as the data poured in, now on his montior. He knew the doctor could see everything he was seeing from where he stood... Experiment 42
42 had worked its way to the bridge, wondering if that was were the captain was. It's master. It had already claimed its first few victims. The first swallowed whole, the second a husk on the floor from draining their soul. The rage was insatiable now. The freedom made it feel more alive than ever. The collar damaged at its neck. It couldn't ply it off completely but bit through the electronics, damaging it enough for it to not work. 42 tilted its head studying the controls. It decided to keep at least one crew member alive, so that it could fly it away from here. The rest were fair game. It sniffed the air, growling. The slime dripping on to the metal, the talons clinking on the floor as it walked, dragging itself alone. It snapped its head back and forth, with its blue gaze looking for its next meal. Captain.... It growled out. Captain.... it said more mockingly this time. It moved to the following corridor inside the ship. Cassiopeia
Cass studied the captain on the floor. "Where is it?" She took wrapped her hands around his jacket and lifted him closer to her face. "The crew will die, if we don't have that remote" Her tone harsh. She looked back at the crew with the cattle prods. There were a limited number to the amount of crew. She sighed. They were definitely going to lose more people today. She looked up at them. "Go, contain it, use the cattle prods " She barked at the ones that had the prods. "Contain it to airlock" She suddenly suggested before they started to disappear down the corridors. She turned her gaze back to the captain. She looked at Zyxir. "Help me, get him to his feet." Between the two of them, they helped the captain up on to his feet and didn't let go until they could stand. The other crew members now waiting for orders. "Captain..." Cass said with a sharp tone. |
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Calyx’s vision swam, the edges of the world blurring in and out of focus as Cass gripped him, her fingers tightening on his jacket, pulling him up to her face. Her eyes were wild, her voice sharp and demanding. "The remote…?" The word barely passed his lips, a rasping sound that didn’t quite fit his throat. He swallowed, trying to clear the fog from his mind. The pain in his head was a drumbeat, persistent and unyielding. It was hard to think straight, but he knew he had to. Cass was right—the crew would die without it. "Not... yet," he managed to mutter, blinking at the ceiling, the room spinning slightly as the sound of hurried feet echoed around them. The crew was scattering, trying to contain whatever mess had been unleashed. "Contain it to the airlock," he repeated weakly, his voice hoarse but still carrying the edge of command. Zyxir’s strong arms were at his side, helping him up as Cass barked orders. He didn't resist. His legs were wobbly, but he managed to plant his feet on the ground, leaning into them both for support. The captain was no use to anyone on the floor. The crew needed him—needed someone with the clarity to get them out of this mess. Cass's sharp tone sliced through the air again. "Captain..." He looked up at her, his vision slowly steadying. "The remote… in the storage bay... left side, third compartment... inside the panel. It's all we’ve got left." He gritted his teeth, trying to steady himself. The airlock was a temporary fix. They needed that remote to keep the ship intact. "Tell the others… don’t let them out of their posts. I’ll... follow after you," he said, his voice firming with each word, the fog lifting, if only just enough to bring some semblance of focus back. "Go," he urged. "I’ll catch up." |
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Neoma’s eyes flickered over the scene, her heart hammering in her chest as she fought to keep her composure. The air was thick with tension, an oppressive silence that pressed down on her, making every breath feel heavy. She shouldn’t be here—not like this, not with the Vanguard so close. They were here for her. She could feel it. Her hand tightened around the communicator clipped to her belt, though she resisted the urge to speak into it. The Coalition had trained her well—too well for her age—but even all that training couldn’t prepare her for what she faced now. The Vanguard were relentless, and she knew it. They had come for her, to find her, and there was no room for mistakes. Quixor and Rosaline, both seasoned soldiers of the Vanguard, were moving in the distance, their every motion calculated and methodical. Neoma’s instincts screamed that they were close, dangerously close, their presence a reminder that they were never far behind. The Vanguard were trained for this, professionals at tracking and eliminating threats. They wouldn’t hesitate. They couldn’t afford to. She felt the weight of their gaze from the soldiers around her, all eyes scanning for her, calculating her next move. It was a deadly game, and Neoma knew she was the prey. But there was something else—a feeling in the air that made her skin crawl. Even the Vanguard seemed... off. Quixor’s usually confident stride was more cautious, his soldiers moving with a wariness that didn’t match their reputation. Neoma’s fingers twitched at her side, her mind racing through every option available to her. She was still a child, only ten, but she was far from helpless. The Coalition had prepared her for moments like this, though nothing in her training could erase the terror twisting in her stomach. The abandoned ship loomed ahead, the Coalition insignia still visible on its hull. But Neoma knew better than to trust the sight of it. It was no coincidence they had found it here, and the fact that the Vanguard were already circling it meant they were hunting something—or someone. And it wasn’t just an accident that they were so close to her. She could feel the trap tightening around her. Quixor moved like a shadow, his soldiers fanning out with an unsettling precision, every step calculated. His sharp gaze scanned the surroundings, and Neoma could almost feel his focus on her. She held her breath, hoping they wouldn’t find her position. She had to act fast. “Rosaline, check the wreckage,” Quixor’s voice cut through the silence, low and commanding. “They’ve been here. I’m sure of it.” Neoma’s heart skipped a beat. They were getting closer. They weren’t just searching for a ship—they were searching for her. Her hand gripped the communicator again, but she held back. She couldn’t call for backup—not yet. If they heard her, it would be too late. The Vanguard were skilled hunters, and she was the quarry. Her voice, when it came, was barely above a whisper. “They’ve been here,” she said, her eyes narrowing as she shifted her focus from the wreckage to the soldiers surrounding it. “But they didn’t leave in a hurry. Someone’s still here.” Her gaze briefly met Quixor’s, and despite the distance, she could feel the weight of his stare. He was close—so close—and yet she didn’t dare move. His calm demeanor, his unshakeable confidence, mirrored her own in moments of battle, but now it only fueled her growing dread. Her fingers twitched again, but she didn’t reach for her weapon. She wasn’t here to fight—not yet. As a cadet of the Coalition, her role was to observe, to learn, to contain. But her instincts screamed that this wasn’t just another mission. This was a test. And if she failed, it wouldn’t be just the Vanguard that found her. “Proceed carefully,” she murmured, her voice stronger than she felt, though her stomach churned with a sickening sense of inevitability. They were getting closer. They were hunting her, and they would stop at nothing to find her. As she watched the Vanguard soldiers spread out, her mind raced for an escape plan. One wrong move, and the trap would close. But she knew that the real danger wasn’t just the Vanguard. It was what they might uncover once they did find her. |
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