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All Aboard the Nightmare Ship! (IC)


Shofet

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Doktor Archeville

 

"I must say, there's nothing like the vacuum of space for preserving a handsome corpse," Archeville remarked, a bit of awe and wonder in his voice.  "But did they die from that exposure, or something else?  I may be able to tell more, after an autopsy.  And those markings, there, and there," he gestured towards the escape pods.  "A final message, scrawled in their own blood?  A plea to their gods?  A curse against their enemies?  Or a warning to any who came in after them?  Dr. Ea'Po, do you know their language?"

 

He turned to the ram-man, "once again I find myself in agreement with you, my azure associate.  If our investigations prove fruitful, perhaps we can write a dirge worthy of these beings."

 

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GM

 

Dr. Ea’Po, meanwhile, was fiddling with some more equipment. Pressing a button on a little box, a beam of light seemed to sweep around the world outside, and then Dr. Ea’Po got a little chirp on her data pad. Looking at it, she nodded. “Alright, no pathogens either. We are clear to walk around the ship without hazard suits…” she said, before she started strapping some gizmos to herself, including what looked like a communicator and a pair of high-tech looking goggles.  Then she pulled out a chest, and opened it up, before pressing some buttons on her data-pad.

 

Three small spheres rose from the chest and into into the air, turning to face everyone to reveal lenses that contracted and expanded, the faces of the crew reflected in the glass.

 

“And now we have Autonomous Exploratory and Diagnostic Drones. Aydies for short. These little babies will be sending images back to my HUD as they scout out ahead of us. Will give us a good idea of where to go. I’ve also got communicators for us, all EMP-hardened though… Honestly we’ll see how it does with Dirge’s… natural aura, which could be a complicating factor… Uh… Anyway, it should at least work for everyone else. And lucky for you, Doktor, I brought back-ups! So you can have one too.”

 

Standing, Ea’Po then toyed with her data pad some more, casting an image up onto the screen. It was a cross-section of a ship that looked similar to the Stigmata. “Alright, so what you’re looking at is a layout of a typical Atchpa capital ship. We are…” she stopped as she tapped at her datapad’s screen, creating a little red dot at the base of the ship layout. “Here… And if the Stigmata follows standard Atchpa ship design, we should be able to follow this path…” she said as a zig-zagging line ascending about 7 floors appeared on the layout. “We should hit everywhere I need to see, with the last stop being the command centre.”


”First place we will hit is the security station, which… hopefully… will be just a level above us,” she said. “However, if you don’t mind, I’d really like to take a look at what some of the people wrote here. It looks like Atchpan Demotic, sort of a… More casual alternative to the logograms we’ve been seeing on the outside, and we don’t have many examples of it, so it might take me a second to figure out, but it might give us an idea of what happened here."

 

"Anyway, that good with everyone?"

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Starlok

 

Starlok looked at Dirge through the corner of her eyes. “Proceed,” she said. She wasn’t happy about the idea of him using the chair as a weapon, but he was going to be returning it, so it was better to have him armed.

 

Her focus then shifted to all the technology being brought out. Ea’Po reminded her of a little girl happy to show off her new toys. That thought made her smirk to herself. Still, all of this would be highly useful to her. Walking over to the chest, she took one of the communicators, a small square thing, and attached it to her leotard, nodding to herself. Then, she walked over to the command console, and lowered the walkway for them to head out when they were ready.

 

“Well then, I am ready to proceed,” she said aloud to the room. “I look forward to taking command of this vessel.”

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Dirge

 

The moment he had Starlok's permission, Dirge once more transformed his chair into a coiled chain and hoisted it over his shoulder. "I could take a bulkhead if you preferred, but I assumed you would want me to borrow one of the few pieces which would not compromise the structural integrity of the ship."

 

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"I’ve also got communicators for us, all EMP-hardened though… Honestly we’ll see how it does with Dirge’s… natural aura, which could be a complicating factor… Uh… Anyway, it should at least work for everyone else."

 

The blue sheep-man's three fingers balled up into a triumphant fist, which he held up in front of his face. A rainbow of refracted light rippled in the air around the fist, and sparks danced along his skin. The fur on his hand stood up. "I have trained for MY ENTIRE LIFE to CONTROL the power that is MY BIRTHRIGHT as a Fryxian. To MASTER it." His fist unclenched, and the sparks and heat shimmer both vanished in an instant. "Your TOYS will not be harmed. Though if I wished OTHERWISE, there is no 'EMP hardening' IN THE GALAXY strong enough to WITHSTAND OUR MIGHT! THAT is why The Khan's LAPDOGS had to resort to such COWARDLY tactics to defeat us."

 

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"If you don’t mind, I’d really like to take a look at what some of the people wrote here."
"Anyway, that good with everyone?
"

 

"I have no objections. My only interest in this mission is THE GLORIOUS DEATH it may provide for me. Until such an opportunity presents itself, do whatever you wish."

 

Edited by Grumblefloof
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Doktor Archeville

 

"Oh, aren't you just the cutest things!," Archeville cooed at Ea'Po's drones, as one might to a baby of his own species.  He drew the rod from the holster at his hip and ran it over and around one of the three floating AEDDs; the handheld device -- apparently some sort of scanner -- buzzed and beeped and flashed as he did.  "Oh, but what complex optics you have!  And what wide-band audio receivers!  And what big chemsniffers!"  He half-turned to the Lor archaeologist, "did you make these yourself?  Or are they standard kit for your line of work out here?"  He focused back on the drone, "you are a simply marvelous bit of engineering!"

 

The device in his hand was, of course, a decoy, a facsimile of his electromagnetic screwdriver.  In reality, Archeville was using his own cyberpathic powers to connect with and examine the AEDD.

 

So enamored was he with Ea'Poa's tech that he almost missed what Starlok said.  Almost"Take command of?" he asked, keeping his tone somewhat playful.  "Why, Countess, I thought this was an exploratory expedition, not a colonizing one?"

 

And of course it was nearly impossible to ignore Dirge.  So those abilities are species-wide traits.  I'll have to see what I can research about the Fryxians later.  And some encounters with the Stellar Khanate?  A death wish?  Hrm, yes, definitely a heightened sense of honor, coupled with some sort of warrior's code.  Yes, now the social dynamic between him and Starlok are coming clear.

 

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Starlok

 

"Oh my, no," Ea'Po said with a giggle. "My AEDDs were custom made for me. It's often hard to get fellow archaeologists to go out into the more wild parts of the galaxy, and since I needed help, these little cuties were an obvious solution!"

 

Starlok had almost ignored Doktor Archeville as she walked towards the exit, freeing her crimson blade from its sheathe and twirling it in her hand. However, at the last moment, she turned back to Archeville with a serious expression.

 

"Ea'Po will get to examine this ship, and when she is done, I shall use it to strike back at my brother Ven-Ruth, who slew our parents and made me an exile! For now, he has an army behind him, but even that cannot stand an orbital barrage against their supply depots and armouries. Once they see the power of this vessel, all my brother's allies will surrender on the spot! Then Ven-Ruth shall answer for his crimes."

 

She stared at Archeville for a hot second, before turning to Dirge. "Let's go, if there is anything out there that could kill us, it is probably getting impatient," she said with a dark smile. The she turned and headed into the hangar.

 

As Ea'Po had pointed out, there was a chill in the air. She visually scanned the room, not hindered by the darkness. She could see many signs of chaos. Skeletons in huddled positions, some missing limbs. Some of them even seemed to have teeth marks. Other signs were shattered floor and claw marks everywhere. She narrowed her eyes.

 

"Ea'Po," Starlok said. "...Were the Atchpa warlike?"

 

Ea'Po had already exited the ship, and was now examining the writing. "I mean, as much as any culture has to be to conquer a planet and make their name synonymous with their species. But no more than any normal space-faring species."

 

"So no berserker rages common to their kind, then?" Starlok asked. 

 

"Nope," Ea'Po said, staring at the writing. "The writing seems to say something like... 'save me.'"

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Dirge

 

The blue-furred behemoth glared down his snout disdainfully at the corpses. "These are not the signs of BATTLE. These people were not SLAIN. They were BUTCHERED. EATEN. Set upon by some FOUL BEAST...or they TURNED upon each other in desperation. In MADNESS. They did NOT die like WARRIORS."

 

"This reminds me of an old Fryxian legend, a TALL TALE the elders would tell around campfires to scare the lambs. The Og'd'nu. Once in a great while, a Fryxian WEAK of spirit would be CONSUMED by GREED or RAGE, and FORGET his HONOR and his HERD, forget ALL which made him FRYXIAN. In such FERTILE SOIL, a SEED would be planted, a DEMON who would POSSESS him. A voice whispering blasphemies into his ears, ROTTING him from the INSIDE, HOLLOWING him out, driving him BEYOND DELIRIUM AND DESPAIR. He would ABANDON his herd, to live as A CAT would, ALONE. He would retreat to the FARTHEST REACHES of Ku'unum, the lands where NOTHING grows in the ground, and he would...he would eat FLESH. TEAR it from the BONES of his victims with HIS OWN TEETH, while they still lived, while they SCREAMED. Having NO ONE to huddle with at night, he would RIP the fleece from his victims and WEAR IT as if it were HIS OWN. The demon would make him strong, but his hunger COULD NOT BE SATED, for when HE ate, THE DEMON WITHIN fed as well. To become such a DEGENERATE ABOMINATION was the WORST FATE imaginable, worse even than becoming its PREY. But to SLAY one...there was no GREATER GLORY."

 

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Doktor Archeville

 

"Made for you?," he raised an eyebrow at Ea'Po.  "By whom?  Ah, no," he waved a hand, "we can discuss that later.  I am glad to see you have these with you, if no one else would dare to brave the field with you.  It can be dangerous to go it alone."

 

Besides, I'm sure I could get this little AEDD to reveal that to me.  But, no, later: there is much to do now.

 

He took a step back at Starlok's outburst, and raised his wand defensively.  "Ah.  Family troubles."  He lowered his device, walked over to one group of corpses and knelt beside one, "I can certainly appreciate a desire to reclaim one's family honor, and to seeing justice done.  However, you seem to be making some dangerous presumptions."  He looked up to her, held up a finger, "one, that there are no living Atchpa in this structure, which might take offense to your claiming this structure for such purposes.  Two," a second finger went up, "that if this structure is as abandoned as it seems, that we can get it operational again.  I assume your ship picked up the same energy readings I did, and you noted that such readings were far too low to fully power a vessel of this size.  And three," a third finger went up, "that if you can claim this as your own, and if it can be made operational again, that it even has sufficient weaponry to do as you desire.  This structure is something like a cross between a library and an escape pod, and neither of those typically have weaponry."

 

As he'd talked, he had withdrawn a small plastic bag from his coat, and occasionally glanced down at the corpse before him.  Now he was studying it with more obvious intent, "I agree, something bad did happen here.  If I can get samples from a few of these remains, I should be able to figure out just what happened."

 

He cocked his head at Dirge's tale.  Dedicated herbivores, though at least capable of deriving sustenance from meat.  Interesting.  "There are similar tales among some cultures on my homeworld, of spirits that possess others and drive them to horrific acts of cannibalism, though the spirit can only enter one who has already committed such an act of their own free will first."  He looked up from his work for a moment, "an interesting cultural parallel."

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GM

 

Dr. Ea'Po giggled awkwardly. "Haha, well, actually, for reasons I don't know... This ship is definitely armed. It could probably match most galactic capital ships in terms of firepower... As for getting it operational for the Countess... That is part of our agreement. Sorry, you weren't here when I briefed them on this," she said, before sending out her AEDDs to help search the hangar.

 

Yet what they could do was little in comparison to the Doktor. Time and time again, he came across injuries that were all definitely self-inflicted. Arms with deep bite marks inside them that matched the dental patterns of their owner. Jagged pieces of rock shoved into chest cavities at angles that suggested the owner did it. Not all of them, though. Sometimes, he would come across skeletons permanently locked in the moment of their death, hands wrapped around each others throats. In a part of the hangar with a low ceiling, he found a body crumpled as though it had been suspended and then dropped, its neck broken.

 

Ancient flecks of blood and gore stained everywhere in the form of handprints and dried out pools. But at times it had been deliberately scrawled into runes and scenes. Following a trail, he was able to find a great wheel of sanguine runes, a perfect circle. And at the dead centre was a simple bloody bloody hand print. Beneath it, another skeleton. It should have been more or less impossible to make a circle like this without tools.

 

The Doktor became aware of a sound, somewhere in the distance. It was impossible to place where the sound was coming from, no obvious source. At first, it was strange mumbling, but after a while, it almost sounded like it was saying "don't let them die" in a voice not unlike his own.

Edited by Shofet
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Starlok

 

Starlok smirked at Doktor Archeville. “Yes, it is as Ea’Po says. This ship has the power to level most anything. As for the question of any Atchpa still aboard… It has been 1200 years, and few species have been graced with the sheer longevity my species possess. Now, if this were an ancient Noktoni ship, that would warrant your concern.

 

She threw her cape back dismissively, and then began to pore over the ruins of the hangar. However, she was more or less uninterested in the cause, and instead in finding salvage for her purposes. She scoured the area, only for her eyes to settle on a series of stone crates that seemed to have been neglected by the carnage of the previous millenia. She grinned to herself, and walked over to the crate, and tried to open it, only to find it was exceptionally heavy.

 

Grunting, she felt the muscle stimulators activate as she continued to lift, pulling the crate lid free and tossing it aside. When it hit the ground, it shook the area around her. She frowned, looking back at it.

 

“Why would the Atchpa make something so heavy if they wanted to access it later?” she asked to no one in particular.

 

Ea’Po felt compelled to answer anyway. “The Atchpa were telekinetic. It probably wasn’t that heavy to them,” she offered up.

 

Starlok looked over the contents of the crate. She produced a few things. Many just seemed to be simple works of art, but then she retrieved what was clearly a weapon of some kind. It was a long, thin crystal not dissimilar to quartz in appearance, but with a trigger and the butt of a rifle attached. She looked to Ea’Po, a quizzical eyebrow raised as she gestured to the weapon.

 

“Oh, that’s a psi-rifle. It… Well, it attacks people psychically. I don’t know if anyone here could fire it, honestly.”

 

Starlok frowned, then looked to Dirge. “Dirge! I require your aid!

 

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Dirge

 

The cerulean sheep-man nodded and headed straight for the crates. This was nothing new for the last Fryxian. Since striking out on his own, he'd made at least as much of a living as a laborer as he had a bodyguard or a mercenary. Even with the latter jobs, the former tended to bleed in as often as not. And the labor did not always involve metal. He clamped down upon opposite sides of the next stone lid with thick three-fingered hands, and he strained and groaned. Even beneath his fur his fellow explorers could see his muscles bulge and quiver. The chunk of carved rock weighed more than the Fryxian himself, but he was able to heave it up over his head and hurl it several feet away, inflicting a second quake upon the chamber.

 

"They had WEAPONS, but they did not USE them. Either they could not FOCUS their psychic power enough to retrieve the rifles, or it did not OCCUR to them to TRY. The explanation is THE SAME. They were not in their right minds. It is as I suspected...AFFLICTED, by MADNESS."

 

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Doktor Archeville

 

"They were afflicted by something, alright."  Archeville had returned to the others after following the trail he'd found, "many of these wounds are self-inflicted.  Not all, though -- some of them had clearly set upon each other.  No signs of weapons fire, though, it was all with their own hands and teeth, or jagged pieces of stone.  The walls seem intact, though, so I do not-"

 

Then he saw the crates.  "Ah.  The shards could have come from one of those, perhaps smashed open in a frantic attempt to get at what was inside."  He looked over the items Starlok had gone through, then to Ea'Po, "they're telekinetic?  That could explain how that one," he pointed to one corpse, "who seems to have fallen from a great height.  Perhaps one of his comrades flung him up there -- or perhaps he did it to himself -- but, hrm, no, you," he gestured towards Dirge, "may be on to something.  I do not think they had the focus to do so.  So unless it was some rage-fueled telekinetic outburst, then there was something else here."

 

"Speaking of something else here," he continued, looking in the direction of his most disturbing find, "I am not sure we are alone.  While examining a trail of gore -- which lead to a perfect circle of runes scrawled in blood -- I heard a voice in my head.  At first it was a mumble, but then became clear.  It said "don't let them die."  I am not sure if it was a ghost, pleading with me not to let the Atchpan people be forgotten, or a warning, to not let you lot die.  In either case, I am not about to ignore a voice in my head, so let's all be cautious, yes?"

 

"Now," he held up several baggies filled with bits of pieces dead Atchpans with one hand, and his wand in the other, "would any of you like to help me analyze these remains, and the scans I did with my Electromagnetic Screwdriver?  I have laboratory facilities in my ship.  And snacks!  One shouldn't go adventuring on an empty stomach."

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Starlok

 

The Countess pored over the other crates, only to find more weapons. She sighed to herself. What good was a weapon she could not use? She silently cursed her species for being without any psychic potential. Yet, she did have to admit, they won the cosmic game of chance in many other respects. Long-lived, strong, intelligent… beautiful…

 

She was roused from her musings to herself by the prattering of Doktor Archeville. She stared and listened to him, holding one of the psi-rifles in her hands as he spoke. Her eyes flicked around the room, following the signs as he gestured to them, a frown spreading across her face. She felt a brief chill run down her spine, and her eyes went to her sword. Self-inflicted? Was having a weapon on her dangerous? No, she couldn’t think like that.

 

Very well,” she boomed. “I shall use my own innate intellect to aid you in you analysis.”

 

Dr. Ea’Po peeped up. “Actually, as the scientist, I probably should go with hi--”

”Are you challenging me?” Starlok asked. “I made my pronouncement, and you will--”

 

Ea’Po frowned. “This isn’t how you talk to friends. If you want to go in, fine, but don’t talk to me like that.”

 

Starlok stared, clearly taken aback. “…Friends?”

 

“Aren’t we?” Ea’Po said.

 

“...I… Hmn,” Starlok said, clearly lost.

 

 

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Dirge

 

Twin bright orange eyes squinted at Archeville from under the sheep-man's prominent eyebrow ridge. "Did it not OCCUR to you, TERRAN, that the VOICE you hear may be the first sign of THE VERY MADNESS which set the PREVIOUS crew at each other's THROATS? YES, we should INDEED leave this place, IMMEDIATELY, so we can HALT the effects of WHATEVER affliction this ship has PLAGUED you with." Before the Fryxian could say another word, his stomach growled, loud enough for everyone to hear. He looked down at his own belly, then back up at Archeville. "And also to retrieve these...'snacks' you speak of."

 

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Doktor Archeville

 

The Terran met Dirge's gaze with his own intense blue stare.  "Oh, no, I'm well acquainted with the signs of madness," he replied with a grin.  "This was something else."

 

"And I would be honored," he called out to Starlok and Ea'Po as he turned and headed back into the Pale Rider, "to have the assistance of both of you.  I have collected ample evidence for us all to work on some part of this mystery."

 

He entered Starlok's ship and headed to the cargo bay, where his own ship was still docked.  He stood at the back of the craft and waited for the others to arrive before lowering the entry ramp.  "Welcome to my humble ship and home away from home, the Synthia Bower.  I should warn you, what you're about to see may be a bit... unusual."

 

The back of the craft opened and lowered, forming a ramp leading into an awesome sight.  While the exterior dimensions of the craft indicated it could hold maybe six or eight well-equipped Terrans, what they saw inside stretched on and on -- an immense cargo hold, with a dozen doors opening to wide corridors!  "Labs are this way," he called out, continuing on down one of the corridors without breaking stride, "do stay close, don't want anyone getting lost."  Archeville lead the three past a series of laboratories, workshops, and even a surgical center, all far more advanced that what Ea'Po or Starlok had heard Terrans possessed.

 

"Ah, this should do," he finally said.  They were in a large multi-purpose laboratory, with several display monitors on one wall, a few tables with assorted equipment, and one large empty table with a tray of dissection tools laid on it.  He withdrew his wand and pointed it at the monitors, and a moment later they flickered on, showing the blood-scrawled runes he had seen earlier, with the large circle in the middle.  "Dr. Ea'Po, you can study the markings there.  And Countess, I would value your insight," he gestured towards one of the tables while withdrawing some of the remains-filled evidence bags, "into these remains.  Anything bacterial, viral, or otherwise... bloodborne.  And I," he gestured to another table, "will be examining the high-resolution scans I did of the bodies, to see if there is anything in the remains of their nervous systems, or other organs.  Perhaps something they ate, which still lingers in their gastrointestinal tract."

 

And with that, he sat down and began work, becoming oddly silent and hyper-focused.

 

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GM

 

The minds went to work on analyzing the scene around them. Immediately, they ran into problems. Most of the corpses simply had too little remaining of their soft tissues to get any proper answer as to what had happened to them. The few that did, had little to show for it. The remaining food inside them was entirely mundane, being a petrified assortment of cereal grains, having a silica content similar to grass. All that said is that humans couldn't eat them without severe intestinal distress and ruining their teeth.

 

Analysis revealed no pathogens, nor any prions that could have triggered the sudden outburst or aggression. Nor were there any sort of chemicals that would induce a frenzied state. By all accounts, there was nothing - that science could explain, at least - that could have caused the scene they saw in the hangar. 

 

More and more, though, they began to see signs of ritualized violence in addition to the more spontaneous kind. Notches in bone. Examples of scarification. Yet Ea'Po was quick to point out that the Atchpa had ceased any form of ritual self-mutilation in their planet's equivalent of the Industrial Revolution as the drop in sanitary standards brought on by early factory conditions made wounds like that too dangerous to deal with.

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Dirge

 

When the Fryxian walked into the Synthia Bower and saw how much larger the interior was than the exterior, his eyes grew wide and his jaw slowly fell open. The skeptical squint that had been his only reply to Archeville's reassurances regarding his own mental state vanished completely. For the first time since they had met, the human saw what it looked like when Dirge was impressed. "EXTRAORDINARY..." he half-whispered to no one in particular. His eyes were continually occupied by the highest and farthest parts of his surroundings as he followed the group to Archeville's laboratory. He didn't have much to contribute to the scientific discussion, save for a suggestion that "Whatever tests you perform on the corpses, Terran, should also be performed on you." Mostly, he stayed out of the way.

 

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Doktor Archeville

 

"Hrm.  Nothing.  Nothing.  Nothing."  He had been like that since they began the forensic examinations, speaking in short, clipped phrases, and moving with minimal effort and maximum efficiency.  "Cultural throwbacks.  Atavistic regression?  Psychological collapse?  Defensive measure?  Symbols-"

 

He suddenly stopped, closed his eyes, took in a deep breath, held it, then slowly exhaled.  He sent a technopathic request to the ship, then opened his eyes and regarded his three guests.  "Countess," he began, slowly turning back to his more garrulous ways, "I thank you for your help, and regret that I could not find fresher samples for you.  Dr. Ea'Po, that circle of symbols," he gestured to the monitor showing them, "could they be some sort of ward against evil?  I am beginning to suspect that whatever happened here may have dredged up some old superstitions among the Atcpha, and some of their actions may have been an attempt to defend against some... evil... thing.  And, yes," he nodded to Dirge, "I did run a scan on myself, and found nothing out of the ordinary."

 

As he talked, two hatches opened along one wall, near the floor, each just big enough for a Terran cat or small dog to pass through.  Out of each strode a large beetle-like robot, glossy black and green.  They scuttled to the middle of the room and opened their "wing cases," revealing that they carried an assortment of snacks in their hollow backs.  One carried small bowls of circular chips in a rainbow of colors and tinier bowls of an amber gel, while the other carried glasses and three carafes, one of a clear liquid and two with a red liquid.

 

"Ah, the snacks are here!  Please, please," he gestured, "do help yourselves.  The chips are apples, beets, and carrots, and there's some honey for added sweetness.  For drinks I have water, a kiefernschwarz wine from my homeland, and apple-beet-carrot juice.  Good for the body and mind!"

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Starlok

 

Starlok sighed to herself, removing her helmet and taking a seat. She reclined, running fingers through her hair. It was a minor blow to her ego that she could not find any obvious answer to the cause of the carnage, but it comforted her that it was not only her who had failed. It was clear, now, that it was not her fault, but that there was no discernible reason.

 

When the food came out, she cooed. "Oo,"  she said. "I definitely drink wine." She took a moment to produce some hand sanitizer and rubbed her hands thoroughly.

 

She gestured for someone to pour her a glass, and then crossed her legs. She was less reserved about taking the chips, picking up the carrot and beets particularly. She daintily laid one on her tongue and then crunched it, and proceeded to repeat the action a few more times.

 

"Ea'Po did mention oversized pineal glands," Starlok said. "Perhaps the violence was induced by something aethereal in nature. Not all superluminal travel uses the same avenues."

 

Dr. Ea'Po nodded. "It's entirely possible. As for the runes... I recognize them, but... Well, the language is from their planet, but it isn't Atchpan. It's from a Bronze Age civilization that existed roughly 11 000 years ago and.. Well, they just sort of disappeared. We don't know why or how. They were called the Gauat civilization. Unfortunately, I am only barely familiar with the written form of their language."

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  • 2 weeks later...

Dirge

 

"These people vanished. And in their remnants you find traces of another people wh also vanished. So whatever doom befell one no doubt struck down the other before them as well. A great wheel has spun around once again. If we do not find the culprit and destroy them, we will be next. A glorious death is worth nothing if no one else survives to remember it and tell the tale."

 

When the robots delivered the snacks, Dirge waited until the others had taken their portions before rising to his feet. He scooped up a bowl of chips with one three-fingered hand and the whole remaining carafe of wine with the other, ignoring the glasses. He downed half the remaining wine in a single gulp, then turned his attention to the chips. "Apples and carrots, these are known to me. Similar plants grew on Ku'unum, back when anything could grow there, before the Star-Khan's TREACHERY!" He raised a fist into the air, and since that fist was still holding a half-full carafe, he splashed a puddle of wine onto the floor. "But these 'beets' you speak of..." He threw his head back and tipped the bowl into his mouth, depositing a fistful of chips which he then chewed several times before continuing, his mouth still full. "What are they?" Then he grabbed one of the honey bowls and downed it as if it were a shot of liquor.

 

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Doktor Archeville

 

Archeville poured Starlok a glass of the kiefernschwarz, "hrm, psionics could explain this, though the remains are too degraded for an MRI or neurotransmitter analysis to tell is anything was affecting their brains.  I hope it's that, and not," he scrunched up his face, as if he'd just had something particularly sour in his mouth, "magic.  I do so dislike working with that."

 

"Oh, now that is interesting," he whirled around to Ea'Po.  "So we're dealing with two civilizations here?  Unless the Atchpan who scrawled that happened to be an expert on the Gauat, and in their panic scrawled all that," a pause, a munch of an apple chip, "but that seems unlikely.  Could any of the items you found in those crates be Gauatan?  Simply seeing them may have triggered something... or they could have been trapped, intended to be found by some Atchpan tomb-robber, vengeance from beyond the grave."  He slowly raised his left hand and wiggled his fingers at that last bit.

 

"Ah, I see your appetite is as prodigious as the rest of you!," he said good-naturedly.  "Beets are the taproot of a plant, long used as food, dye, and medicine."  He glanced at the hole from which the robots had emerged.  "And one species in particular is valued for its high sugar content.  Most species are red or deep purple, though there are some white and yellow ones."  Another beetle-bot had appeared, this one with two hoses extending from its back, which it used to vacuum up the spilled wine and chips.  "They're good for digestive issues, high blood pressure, and endurance.  Though I'm sure you don't need any help in that area."

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Starlok

 

The Countess cooed as Archeville poured her the glass of wine, but she divided her attention. Her eye wandered over to Dirge, who was in the process of gorging himself, and she made plans to get up and use the Heimlich Manoeuvre on the Cerulean Caprine should he start to choke. It was hardly fitting for Dirge to go by something as mundane as that, no? Besides, she had grown a little fond of him. A little.

 

Her attention was then drawn to Dr. Ea’Po, who began to explain the situation. “Um, so that’s unlikely for a variety of reasons,” Ea’Po said, shrugging. “First and foremost, the Gauat primarily made their tools out of arsenical bronze, which is unlikely to survive 11 000 years. We have a few tools, but they’re very corroded and usually only in fragments. We do have a few clay tablets documenting their language, but they were mostly for things like tax records and other accounting things. Occasionally, we see a court history. We only know the names of two kings - Ompenopter and Asat. It just seems really unlikely,” she said, frowning.

 

Starlok thought about this. “Do we have any physical remains from that time?”

 

“Oh, yes, a bit. Mostly unmarked mass graves. We know they practiced some sort of… Well, this is a little ghoulish, but… They ate their dead, ritually. We know from polished bones and some teeth marks.”

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Dirge

 

"Beets." The blue-furred behemoth regurgitated a wet, soggy clump of chewed chips into his bowl, which still held many fresh chips. "I like them." Then he scooped a mixed handful of fresh and regurgitated chips back into his mouth.

 

Quote

"They ate their dead, ritually."

 

Dirge spit what was left of the food in his mouth back into his bowl. "Not just FLESH-EATERS. CANNIBALS. So it IS the CURSE of THE OG'D'NU. It consumed one people and then passed to another. Heh. Heh heh. Hah. HAH HAH HAH HAH HAH!" The azure giant collapsed into a fit of laughter. "That...that is not funny. Why is that funny?" He glanced down at the carafe in his hand. "Your wine...is stronger than it tastes." He took another look down into the carafe, and suddenly he was mesmerized by the glass and the liquid inside. The light shimmered off the glass like never before, seeming to surround it in a halo. The liquid inside didn't merely flow, it danced, in impossible directions and arrangements. He stared at it quietly while slowly rocking it back and forth.

 

Edited by Grumblefloof
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Doktor Archeville

 

He's a ruminant.  I'll have to keep that in mind for the next meal.

 

The Doktor snorted at Ea'Po's words, "that is... not as helpful as I'd hoped.  But perhaps we will find more clues as we continue exploring the structure.  Doctor," he looked to the Lor archaeologist, "do you have any recommendations on what section we should check nex-"

 

Archeville's train of thought was interrupted by Dirge's full-throated laughter.  He smiled, trying to keep the mood light, "not much of a wine drinker, eh?"  He looked again to a section of wall behind them, "I should have some oxy pills that will get your body to process that alcohol faster."  A moment later, another green beetle bot scurried out, and opened its rear to show an assortment of personal grooming implements and a few bottles of pills.  He reached for one bottle, paused, then used his other hand to retrieve the wand from the holster at his hip, and began to wave the flashing, beeping device in Dirge's general direction, "though, to be on the safe side, I should run a quick biochemical analysis of you, to make sure I don't cause any more harm!"

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Starlok

 

Starlok averted her gaze as Dirge regurgitated his food, shuddering. Of all the ways to consume food in the galaxy, this had to be her absolutely least favourite. Except perhaps the Muscan Fly-Lords of Morpha. They were perhaps slightly worse. But vomit was involved in that one too so it was a close race. Why couldn't the other species of the galaxy simply drain sustenance from their prey?

 

Yet then, Dirge began to act strangely, and her disgust gave way to concern. He wasn't choking as she had thought he might, but instead seemed to be in a daze. This wouldn't do. Dirge was indispensable to her in situations like this. 

 

She placed her hand on his arm. "Are you alright?" Starlok, her voice coming out softer than she intended. Her face screwed up, and she righted herself. "You better be alright, Dirge. We cannot afford you to get ill right before we make our way into the belly of the ship."

 

Her attentions were drawn, when suddenly the lights flickered inside the Stigmata, before flickering inside Archeville's ship as well. A woman's bloodcurdling howl of anguish emanated throughout the bowels of the great vessel, and flickering with the lights was a woman in strange clothing screaming not far from Dr. Archeville's face. She had three eyes, but they had all been reduced to ruins. Thin, fingernail like clawmarks covered all her bare flesh. 

 

Just as quickly as she appeared, the woman vanished, and the flickering stopped. Starlok frowned, and looked around.

 

"What was that?"

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