What We Built Without You: The Remainders' encampment

[Xi’asz Séalgair]

A jagged circle of steel and shrapnel blasted inward from the Siren’s port bulkhead after the boarding tube snaked its way through space, breaching charge at its tip exploding on contact.

It all happened too quickly for a crew that was still trying to remember how act as one; operational rust and barely thawing relationships did most of the work for the attacking vessel. The unmarked ship had paced the Siren, dropped its cloak, and deployed its boarding tube before anyone had much of a chance to react.

Xi’asz barreled through the hall, stopping briefly at an auxiliary panel to pull up the Siren’s deflectors. It was probably too little too late, he thought while berating himself internally for even allowing this to happen, but it seemed better to have some additional defense in place than not.

The first of the insectoid interlopers skittered in through the tube connected to the Siren. Six legs spread out from its abdomen, while the thorax rose up into a humanoid upper body with arms holding a heavy blaster rifle to its shoulder. Xi’asz’s mouth turned downward into a sour expression as he saw two more enter behind the first. It didn’t feel like a fair fight, but maybe they’d send more across to improve their odds of besting him.

He launched himself into the air and pulled the end of his plasma garrote from his left gauntlet while somersaulting over the lead boarder. Reaching down, he let his momentum pull the garrote taut against the creature’s neck before flicking his wrist to activate it and cut through in one smooth motion, cauterizing the wound as it separated head from body. Xi’asz ripped the rifle from the dead alien’s arms as he landed full force on its abdomen, exploding its armored shell and splattering the walls with pus and entrails.

Instead of firing on the next two, he used the rifle as a club, spinning his way through a delicate, deadly dance while bludgeoning the creatures. A feral smile spread across his face as one lunged at him. He feinted to the right before dropping to the floor and rolling under it to cut them off from the boarding tube.

He pulled a grenade from his pack and rolled it into the portal, then leveled his right gauntlet at the damaged superstructure and began shooting nanomesh at it, patching the hole until they could fix it properly.

The Siren rocked a bit as the boarding tube blew, and turned his attention fully back to the creatures. They attempted skittering away from him and he let them, knowing Hastur would be salty if he took them all out himself after what they did to the ship. He’d done his part and Xi’asz was happy to herd them directly toward the captain’s waiting wrath.

[Kyeera Hastur]

Kyeera lounged in the captain's chair having trust that Xi'asz would handle the situation. She hadn't even needed to voice a command before Xi'asz had vanished from sight following the first explosion, and the second... well, she hoped that it meant the situation was handled.

Still, she reasoned that she should assess the damage and perhaps identify who it was that had dared to wreak havoc on her precious vessel. Moving slowly, and with purpose, she makes her way to the door of the bridge, and just as it opens with a pneumatic hiss a bit more audible than she'd like, she discovers that Xi'asz was not quite a thorough as she'd expected.

That beautiful bastard.

The Thriviex soldier standing in front of her shows the barest signs of surprise and frustration along the edges of its chitinous face before it is shattered and crushed messily against the bulkhead to Kyeera's right, her central tendril returning to its resting place behind her as the soldier's body slides lifelessly to the ground. The second barely has time to get its blaster in a ready position before Kyeera's pistol has placed a hole in the space between its multi-faceted eyes.

It stood there, locked in place by its rigid exoskeleton, before Kyeera casually topples it with her cane. "Tch," Kyeera tuts, looking at the mess of insect brains on the wall. "What a mess."

Leaning over, she reaches out to grab the first soldier, intent on bringing it to the airlock to keep her ship somewhat tidy, when a shock of pain runs through her back and leg, freezing her rigidly mid grab. Gritting her teeth, she straightens up, careful not to show any signs of pain on her face. Outwardly, she just looks pissed. Beyond pissed.

So pissed that it seems she's decided that these bugs are beneath her.

Looking back at the others still on the bridge, she weighs her options, and makes a snap decision. "Lav. Argent. Get this garbage off of my ship," she orders. "But keep the badges. I'd like to look into just how long Parallel's been operating in this sector."

Parallel. The black ops organization employed by many of the corporations that make up the governing economical body of the central sectors. They were farther out from their jurisdiction, so running into these bastards wasn't a coincidence.

"I need to get to Xi'asz, and assess the damage," she tells them bluntly, carefully stepping over the mess she'd made in the corridor as she went along.

[Lavender]

It had been a few cycles since the Siren had left its port, fully restocked with a modicum of supplies necessary for the skeleton of a crews' survival. Lav had wondered if the Captain would have taken the opportunity to hire on some more help, though it was obvious that this mission - however it turned out - would rest on the backs of the survivors from the last time the crew encountered the NCE. 'Only five..' The analytic part of Lav's mind did not like the odds calculation of success with only five.

The physical part of Lav didn't like that they were now being stretched too thin in their duties. Normally, Lav would be in command of communications and sensor arrays. Two things that they were naturally apt to do as a Veyari. At least that is what the Captain had told them when Lav was first welcomed aboard. Lav had to believe that that old self at least had the good sense to not get sucked into such compliments so quickly. Had they ever been that strong? Quietly, they took a small drink from a bottle tucked under their boots. They had gotten lost in those thoughts again. Being back on the ship had been forcing them to think like this more often. To confront whomever they used to be, at least so they could put on a facsimile for the rest of the crew. It was easier this way.

Of course it also meant that at the exact moment the small raider ship de-cloaked, they weren't paying the closest attention to the sensor array. "Detecting a small vessel off p-AH.." they managed to get out before the ship was rocked by the breach. Not hard, enough to surprise..enough that their container toppled.

By the time Lav recovered - both mentally and their current libation - the sounds of the attack could already be heard echoing down halls that led to the main bridge. Xi'asz had clearly moved into position and - if the chittering wails and other sounds Lav didn't want to focus on too directly were any indication - he seemed to be doing fine with the exercise.

Which meant that obviously Xi'asz could handle this situation. No need to get involved. Though they observed the Captain as they decided to take a look, and to blast a few holes into the intruders without so much as a question or a command of surrender. 'They too seem to have gotten more lustful for blood..' Or perhaps that's why the Captain got along so well with Xi'asz in the first place.

Looking back at the others still on the bridge, she weighs her options, and makes a snap decision. "Lav. Argent. Get this garbage off of my ship," she orders. "But keep the badges. I'd like to look into just how long Parallel's been operating in this sector."

Parallel. The black ops organization employed by many of the corporations that make up the governing economical body of the central sectors. They were farther out from their jurisdiction, so running into these bastards wasn't a coincidence.

"I need to get to Xi'asz, and assess the damage," she tells them bluntly, carefully stepping over the mess she'd made in the corridor as she went along.

"Yes, Captain Kyeera" Lav confirmed the command, though not without a mild sigh. Lav had been good in a confrontation. Keen, observant, able to pick out hostilities and take them down appropriately. But they had never been good with the clean up. Their frame was slender, not outwardly muscular. For a moment, Lav's cels fluttered with muted indigo and ashen silver, their eyes turning toward the airlock door the Captain had just exited. It was like pain, but repressed. Too repressed to fully grasp hold of before it muted away.

There was likely a lot of pain beyond the airlock door, who was to say whose it was. Everything was all muddled.

Lav took another drink as they worked their way out of their station and toward the opened door. Two down, spatter of viscera across one of the auxiliary panels. 'I suppose she is also expecting us to clean that up..' Lav thought as they watched the Captain walk slowly down the hallway toward where more chittering screams were occurring..and ending.

Sighing, Lav moved to deal with the one that did not have a hole in their exoskeleton. The doctor could handle that one. Or more likely they would handle it together. Lav looked down on the creature as it slumped up against a wall, taking another drink, not trying to hide it anymore. They had just lowered the heavy bottle from their lips when the Thriviex soldier twitched, then attempted a lunge, surprised and shocked and reacting to whatever it was the solider had seen before it had been knocked against a side wall and left for dead. "Fucker!" Lav snapped, swinging the bottle down hard against the already mostly caved in chitinous face, sending an arc of more viscera up the side wall as and causing an echoing, resonate thud followed by several sharp, clinking reverberations as Lav struck the creature again..and again..and one more time just to be sure of it.

Satisfied that the only movement seemed to be the uncontrolled twitching of the dead, Lav wiped a bit of the residual spray off their fitted attire before bringing the bottle back to their lip. They stopped before they could drink - blood mixed with the tell-tale drip of a bottle that was now empty because its contents had sprayed and sloshed out through violent movements, soaking down Lav's forearm and most of the Thriviex's uniform. Just for spite, Lav hit it one more time, then bent forward to begin riffling through pockets for information. ID badge. Communication suite complete with a localized jamming system to presumably keep the crew from letting others know of the attack. A door-breaker cell to blow the airlock of the bridge, Lav assumed, had the invaders had a chance to use it. "Guess we aren't the only ones who are sloppy.." Lav said to themself, teasing the dead.

[Betua Argent]

Betua was sitting at the console adjacent to Lavender's attempting to analyze the long range astrometric data for signs of NCE activity, debating whether it was time to reach out to The Observatory for additional data, even if it meant potentially revealing its existence to the others, when the board pod struck, rocking xem in xer chair. "Shit!" xe shouted, startled out of proportion to the strength of the impact due to having been lost in xer thoughts. Betua switched xer console to internal scanners, identified the nature of the disturbance—hull breech, unidentified life forms on board—and scrambled for xer sidearm. This is it. My chance to show myself an asset by— Xi'asz's sensor marker appeared in the vicinity, and one of the life forms was terminated. Then Betua heard the door to the bridge open and the Captain opened fire.

Looking back at the others still on the bridge, she weighs her options, and makes a snap decision. "Lav. Argent. Get this garbage off of my ship," she orders. "But keep the badges. I'd like to look into just how long Parallel's been operating in this sector."

So much for that thought. Instead Betua's stuck on clean-up duty. Again.

Sighing, Lav moved to deal with the one that did not have a hole in their exoskeleton. The doctor could handle that one.

More specifically, Betua finds xemself cleaning up the Captain's mess, specifically. It doesn't take a forensic investigator to distinguish Xi'asz's clean, efficient kill from Kyeera's sloppiness.

Before Betua can get to work, however, the gunned down Thriviex lunges for Lavender, who makes an even bigger mess than the Captain in the process. Xe stands back, hands unconsciously raised in a placating gesture, not willing to trust them not to clip xem with the bottle if xe gets too close. Betua sighs. "I'll just get started on the other one then."

Xe gives the headless insectoid a kick with xer foot to check for any more death spasms. Nothing. Again, Xi'asz had the cleaner kill. Betua finds a similar set of equipment on this one: insignia, automated hacking module, no doubt intended to paralyze their internal defenses, and a decided lack of any measures for taking prisoners. "SDSI seems to be out of patience with the Captain," xe mutters. There's nothing to directly link the Corporation to this attack of course, or at least nothing obvious. Parallel might be sloppy in their wet work but they take their clients' deniability seriously. Betua can't imagine who else would be coming after the ship, though given Kyeera's capacity for making enemies, maybe xe shouldn't be jumping to conclusions.

[78rpmlife]

None of them really discussed why they'd embarked on this mission with a skeleton crew. There seemed to be a general understanding that they didn't want to involve anyone else in this particular bit of business.

The more altruistic motivation would be that none of them wanted to risk another Zimeon. The five of them were the only ones who knew the risk, the only ones willing to take the chance of being the next Zimeon.

But the real motivation, the one that maybe no one had fully confronted yet, was that this was a suicide mission.

Tikreta, alone in the engine room with their thoughts and the hum of the drive core, ponders on that idea and wonders -- not for the first time -- if dying in this dimension would affect their physical body. Their research provided no answers and it wasn't an experiment they wanted to attempt. "Maybe I can only die if I'm physically present?" they muse as they run through a plasma temperature calibration routine.

It's at that very moment that the boarding tube attaches to the Siren's hull and rocks the ship with the ensuing explosion.

Tik stumbles sideways, the open toolbox on the workbench sliding off to clatter noisily on the floor. "Really?" they complain. "I didn't mean that I wanted to find out right now!" The hull breach sirens wail and echo and Tik modifies their form to reduce the amount of stabby auditory stimulus they're sensing. "I get the message already!"

A quick look at the ship's internal cameras makes the threat clear. This was certainly not a drill. They review their database on the Thriviex species, paying particular attention to the anatomical weaknesses as they enter the corridor and run to their quarters. For whatever reason, a reason none of them had been able to figure out, none of the conventional personal weaponry available on the ship worked particularly well in Tik's not-always-corporeal hands. Which is why the captain had seen fit to offer them a traditional blade from her own world, a gift Kyeera had assured them was particularly attuned to their own manifestation resonance. They'd been so touched at the time that they hadn't seen fit to question how that was possible or how -- or why for that matter -- Kyeera had been able to match it to them so perfectly.

Tik retrieved it and drew it from the sheath. The emergency lighting in the corridor made the metal of the narrow, slightly curved blade gleam, highlighting the etched stylized snake motifs running along its length. Sometimes, Tik thought -- again not for the first time -- how it was awfully nice sometimes to be able to manifest physically again, implications and consequences be damned.

Their wrist holopad blinked silently, warning them of an unregistered pair of lifeforms around the next corner, and they tuned their feet for maximum stealth. As the two Thriviex passed in front of them, Tik aimed a slashing blow at the weak point between head and thorax, neatly cleaving the first's head from its now twitching body. The other spun with alarming quickness and fired three quick blasts from their pistol. Ready for that eventuality, Tik went noncorporeal for the few microseconds required to not get zorched. Their sword dropped as well, but as they came back into being, Tik snatched it neatly from mid-air and advanced on the remaining insectoid.

"If I know Xi'asz, and I think I do, odds are you might be the only one of your party left. I'm a compassionate semi-corporeal entity. Put down your blaster and we'll talk this out like intelligent sentient folks. What do you say?" Tik offered, blade held in front of them, the point low as they advanced on the Thriviex.

Their opponent considered the offer, then began to lower their pistol toward the floor. As Tik relaxed, though, the Thriviex let out a chittering squeal that translated roughly as 'you can take my pistol from my cold, chitinous claw!' and fired twice. Tik was not expecting that. The first blast caught them in the shoulder of their sword arm, rocking them back and causing the blade to clatter to the floor. The second took them in the lower abdomen and it fucking hurt. Tik slumped against the wall, looking down at the scorched flesh beneath the hole in their jumpsuit. Maybe it wasn't so nice to be able to manifest physically again.

The Thriviex advanced carefully on Tik, pistol trained on their head. It chittered again, the translation coming across as 'Fuck you and the ship you flew in on.'

I guess we're going to run that experiment after all... Tik thought as the Thriviex held the blaster execution-style and prepared to fire.

[Xi’asz Séalgair]

A lilting chuckle escaped Xi’asz as he heard emanating from the hall ahead blaster fire, a surprised yelp, and the wet thud of a blunt object finding its target, in that order.

Reaching up, he unwound one of the mane-like interface cables he’d used to tie back the rest to keep them out of his vision, letting them cascade down to frame his angular, almost feline face. Hefting the rifle he’d taken off the lead Thriviex, he tipped his head to initiate the cool down sequence on his quadricep implants. They’d nearly overheated on the run and subsequent acrobatic display, and, by his count, the incursion was over.

And that’s when he heard Tik’s synthesized vocals echoing from a passage deeper into the Siren, and apparently attempting…diplomacy? Xi’asz let out a quick but deep sigh, dropped the rifle, and crept down the passage toward their voice. He picked up agitated chittering and increased his pace, thankful he’d shut down the enhancements. They were useful, but had been getting louder. They’d eventually need upgrading, or replacing altogether, if this went…

He bit down on the inside of his lip, punishing himself for letting his thoughts drift. The immediate objective was cleaning up the leftovers and aiding Tik.

Assuming they needed it.

Rounding a bend answered that question.

They did.

At first he was taken aback by the sight and he again chastised himself for overlooking the possibility additional Thriviex had boarded before he got to the scene. But now was not the time, not with one approaching the captain’s…the captain’s what, exactly? Eh, it didn’t matter. Xi’asz liked Tik, arguably more than the captain did based on how Hastur treated them at times, and Tik needed help.

Silent as a shadow he padded forward, again pulling the garrote from his gauntlet. As the Thriviex chittered its fool head off, he removed said head in a smooth, dizzyingly fast motion, and it rolled toward Tik, mandibles still working, not realizing it was dead yet.

“Mercenaries generally react more favorably to bribes than diplomacy, Tik,” he said, picking up their blade and handing it back to them. The balance was…odd. And it felt almost like it wasn’t there. Strange. “Just for future reference.”

[Lavender]

Lav let out a heavy sigh as they stood up, taking the opportunity to languish in a stretch that had their head touching their knees. The fine woven mesh along the form fitted skin suit they wore hugged tightly around their legs as they held the position. The stretch had two benefits. One, it gave them a moment to ease out the tension from having to sit for so long staring at sensor data that showed absolutely nothing up until the raiding party's ship had de-cloaked. Lav had forgotten just how uncomfortable the station chairs on the bridge had been, or perhaps just never remembered. It was all mixed up, but they were positive of one thing - there was no way they had ever enjoyed sitting in those chairs.

Two, with their head hung low like this, the blood rushed back to their skull, which had a mildly sobering effect. Not that they wanted to be sober. But likely there would be conversation to come about 'why hadn't anyone noticed' and 'who was looking at the sensors' and well..Lav didn't want their medicinal needs to cloud what they might say in those instances. So..reluctantly sober.

Reluctantly sober sucked, they immediately decided, as they stood up to their full height. At least numbed they might actually not care about having to drag dead bodies..somewhere..for disposal. "And just where did she expect us to put them.." Lav spoke aloud. It wasn't necessarily directed to Betua, though the good doctor was near enough by that it might have been presumed that Lav was striking up a conversation.

Then, an idea struck. "Doctor Argent.." Lav turned their soft lavender eyes toward Betua, "Do you know of the Zyrrhax treatise 'The Silent Requiem' by Varo? She spoke of something they called Harbinger's Remains.."

The treaties, twelve volumes in total and spanning more pages than Lav could ever try to recall, had been required reading for Lavender in their former life. Even more former than the last. The one where they had still been a part of Veyari, part of the collective 'We.' Tasked with maintaining and establishing diplomatic ties for the good of the collective and to collect information for the 'We' to use to expand their presence in the universe. The Zyrrhax had been an interesting species. Highly suspicious, particularly of hive mentalities, which was ironic Lav thought later for their own insulated mentality. The specific requiem - as translated by Varo - had been: 'To send killers against the Zyrrhax is to write your own epitaph. When your dead return to you, untouched but for the silence in their eyes, understand that this is not a warning—it is a promise. They are already inside your walls, watching, waiting. You will only know their hand when it closes around your throat'

Much later, Xi'asz had been the one to explain to Lav that what Varo meant was - in his words - 'If you come after a Zyrrhax, don't miss. If you miss, you're dead. Hell, if you hit, you're probably dead but at least you got your damn mark. But if you miss, you're dead and they're going to tell you you're dead straight to your face with whatever amounts to a smile on those creepy fucking fluid faces of theirs.'

With a bit of a struggle, Lav managed to hoist the body of the Thriviex soldier they had been bludgeoning up enough to drag down the corridor. "Captain Kyeera requested we clean up. I suggest we dispose of these husks appropriately back on their ship so that Parallel can find them."

Dragging the body past Betua, a trail of greenish fluids from the Thriviex's skull leaking behind them, "Besides...someone should check their ship to confirm their intentions. That would prove most useful I think.."

[Tikreta]

Silent as a shadow he padded forward, again pulling the garrote from his gauntlet. As the Thriviex chittered its fool head off, he removed said head in a smooth, dizzyingly fast motion, and it rolled toward Tik, mandibles still working, not realizing it was dead yet.

“Mercenaries generally react more favorably to bribes than diplomacy, Tik,” he said, picking up their blade and handing it back to them. The balance was…odd. And it felt almost like it wasn’t there. Strange. “Just for future reference.”

Tik had shut down their sensory inputs, not wanting to watch the blaster fire that tested the limits of manifestation and continued presence in the dimension. So when nothing else came until the creature's head bumped against their feet, Tik was more than a little surprised to still be fully -- as far as they could tell -- functional. They reactivate the equivalent of one eye, grateful to see Xi'asz standing there rather than a Thriviex who had watched too many bad galactic gangster holovids. Tik reactivates the rest of their sensory inputs (all except those surrounding the wound in their side, why would anyone want to feel that?) in time to hear Xi'asz's sage advice.

"Reference stored in memory," Tik agrees before climbing to their feet. They reach down and pick up the Thriviex head. The mandibles are still twitching, though slowly now. They turn it around, holding it in front of their head so it's 'looking' at Xi'asz and manifest a third hand to help manipulate the mandibles as though it was talking.

"Stars and comets!" Tik says in a high-pitched, drawling mimic of... well, not a Thriviex voice. Not enough clickety-clacking. Some sort of voice. "You're awfully handy with that slice-y thing of yours, M. Xi'asz! I don't know what we were thinking, trying to board your ship. My deepest apologies for sliming up your floors, sir!"

Tik pokes their head out around the detached head, which does indeed continue to drip ichor on the floor, and adds, "That means thank you, by the way. I think you saved my life, if my conjecture and predictions are any indication."

[Betua Argent]

Reluctantly sober sucked, they immediately decided, as they stood up to their full height. At least numbed they might actually not care about having to drag dead bodies..somewhere..for disposal. "And just where did she expect us to put them.." Lav spoke aloud. It wasn't necessarily directed to Betua, though the good doctor was near enough by that it might have been presumed that Lav was striking up a conversation.

Then, an idea struck. "Doctor Argent.." Lav turned their soft lavender eyes toward Betua, "Do you know of the Zyrrhax treatise 'The Silent Requiem' by Varo? She spoke of something they called Harbinger's Remains.."

Betua blinks blankly at Lav. Xe is not, as it happens, knowledgeable about The Silent Requiem. Xe had been about to recommend the airlock as the obvious place to deposit the Thriviex, considering it is both secure and convenient for dumping. Perhaps The Silent Requiem refers to an airlock? Xe doubts it. Xe also doesn't want to suffer the consequences of admitting ignorance to Lav but the silence stretches on a bit longer than is uncomfortable (approximately 2.6 seconds). "Is that—"

With a bit of a struggle, Lav managed to hoist the body of the Thriviex soldier they had been bludgeoning up enough to drag down the corridor. "Captain Kyeera requested we clean up. I suggest we dispose of these husks appropriately back on their ship so that Parallel can find them."

Dragging the body past Betua, a trail of greenish fluids from the Thriviex's skull leaking behind them, "Besides...someone should check their ship to confirm their intentions. That would prove most useful I think.."

"Ohhhhhhhh. Right. Right." Betua pauses to secure the hacking module and also a breacher charge, judging that both could be used against the enemy as easily as against them, although this seems like a terrible idea. On the one hand. from what xe has been given to understand, boarding actions are highly dangerous and chaotic—not two of Betua's favorite descriptors—owing to the tight corners, sensitive equipment, enemy control of the terrain, and the fact that there is hard vacuum scant centimeters away at any given time. On the other hand, for all of those reasons, the Parallel goons might not be expecting a counter boarding action.

On the gripping hand, Betua doesn't want to look like a coward.

"Of course, Lavender," xe says with false bravado. "It's only polite of us to return their remains and only polite of them to dispose of their own mess."

[Kyeera Hastur]

He pulled a grenade from his pack and rolled it into the portal, then leveled his right gauntlet at the damaged superstructure and began shooting nanomesh at it, patching the hole until they could fix it properly.

The Siren rocked a bit as the boarding tube blew, and turned his attention fully back to the creatures. They attempted skittering away from him and he let them, knowing Hastur would be salty if he took them all out himself after what they did to the ship. He’d done his part and Xi’asz was happy to herd them directly toward the captain’s waiting wrath.

Kyeera stood at the patched hole, sizing it up. Outwardly, her expression was oddly calm, almost serene, as she carefully observed the damage and the marvelous patch-job Xi-asz had done to keep this section of the ship's interior from crumpling from the pressure change.

Internally, she was livid. Not just at the boarding party, but at their piss-poor response to such an intrusion. In the past, it didn't matter how good a cloaking protocol a ship had, they were still detectable long before an enemy ship could dock and board. So either the technology had progressed beyond what Kyeera was expecting, or someone wasn't doing their job.

Gritting her teeth was the only thing keeping Kyeera from spitting out a long string of profanities leveled at Parallel, SDSI, her own crew, herself, and about half the damn galaxy while she was at it.

"Ohhhhhhhh. Right. Right." Betua pauses to secure the hacking module and also a breacher charge, judging that both could be used against the enemy as easily as against them, although this seems like a terrible idea. On the one hand. from what xe has been given to understand, boarding actions are highly dangerous and chaotic—not two of Betua's favorite descriptors—owing to the tight corners, sensitive equipment, enemy control of the terrain, and the fact that there is hard vacuum scant centimeters away at any given time. On the other hand, for all of those reasons, the Parallel goons might not be expecting a counter boarding action.

On the gripping hand, Betua doesn't want to look like a coward.

"Of course, Lavender," xe says with false bravado. "It's only polite of us to return their remains and only polite of them to dispose of their own mess."

The sound of chatter and dragging bodies interrupts her thoughts as she sees Lav and Betua coming around the bend with the insectoid corpses and some curious equipment. She couldn't fathom what it was that they were planning to do with all of that, but she didn't imagine that this fell in line with the command she gave earlier.

"I know it's been a while," Kyeera calls out, turning her attention from the patched breach to the newcomers on the scene. "But this isn't the way to the airlock." Folding her arms, she erects a posture reminiscent of a headmistress, oozing disappointment and silently demanding an explanation.