LCS Mok'Ro, Main Cargo Storage
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Super Metroid - Brinstar, Red Soil Swampy Area ♫
"Alright, sheesh. Deep breaths, you know?" Gough replied to Merril. He was trying to make light of all this to cope with it. It wasn't an uncommon response to the unknown to try and poke fun at it and make it seem not as bad as it was. "This is ... pretty fuckin' strange stuff I agree."
"We're still here, Soft-Touch," Al'ris said, looking over her shoulder to Merril behind her. The Fyunnen was capable of providing body cover for the nervous medic. "We won't let you down." She nodded down at her.
"I agree with V though. Not getting eaten's probably in our best interests, ahah."
"Gough!" Yar'mak snapped at him.
"Alright, fine, sheesh!" Gough groaned and sighed in his communications. "The back wall's only several metres ahead." He positioned his legs upwards and thrusted ever so gently to slow his forward drifting speed until coming to a complete stop. He looked at the wall and he could see panels of it floating in space awkwardly, wires exposed and partially worked on. It looked as though there was some inspection or maintenance going on before the ship flipped.
Looking further up, the windows to the Captain's suite were intact. One of the windows was open, like a sliding door off to one side. It seemed so much more coherent and intact compared to the rest of the melting innards of the Cargo Bay. Yar'mak put his hand up for pause. "I'll take point," he volunteered, adjusting course to float upwards and be the first set of boots on the wall. His shoes attached to the metal without incident, but he seemed to be watching his step as he walked up the wall - his floor had neat, panel-shaped holes in it from whatever they were working on.
All things considered, he knew it was unwise to step into exposed wires regardless of whether the ship was a man-eating metal machine monster thing. He started to crouch down as he got closer to the open window, eventually on his knees as he pointed the business end of his gun into the room, flashlight on.
This was the living quarters of captain Mara 'Longwalk' Korro Lmanel. Yar'mak could see that the their quarters seemed more or less intact; desk was still there, computer still plugged in but the chair was on the floor. There were books floating in the room, on various theological subjects, including various editions of the annals of Lorath theocracy. They were obviously devout, and thoughtful to a fault. One drifted past Yar'mak's line of fire and obscured the flashlight.
Then Yar'mak looked at the bed to his left against the wall and saw what looked like a person under the covers, someone in an EVA suit, lying on the bed and facing away from him. Yar'mak held up a fist behind him and raised a single finger. Single target ahead. He then beckoned to the others to follow his route.
"Single being, IFF unknown," he radioed under his breath, flashlight fixated at the figure under the bed. It seemed to stir beneath his sheets, and Yar'mak's hand tensed on the forward grip of his weapon. "Movement," he said, voice raised a little. "Hurry." Gough's head perked up and he landed where Yar'mak landed and started walking up the wall, Silva rifle raised.
Yar'mak could see that whoever was under the bed seemed to be waking up from a deep sleep. Yar'mak saw the figure rise from the bed with the cover draped over them, rubbing the helmet of their EVA suit. The silence of space meant that not a single thing could be heard - not the sheets shuffling, not the scratching of fingers against helmet, just breathing and the crackle of idle radio. They didn't look they were part of the ship at all. The emblems on the EVA suit's shoulders were those of the Mok'ro. The rank bars were on the other shoulder, but he couldn't see them from where he was standing.
They then looked directly into Yar'mak's flashlight and raised a hand to shield themselves, then pulled the cover over themselves and tried to fall behind the bed for protection, but in the lack of gravity, they ended up flailing in space on their bed, dragging the bedsheets with them. Not a word could be heard from them nor could their face be seen under their EVA helmet from the flashlight's glare and the bedsheets.
Yar'mak lowered his rifle. "Possible friendly, probably disoriented," he said before changing who he was translating to, "Keib, you might wanna look at this."
