Post by Marshall on May 2, 2019 9:10:48 GMT -5
Eventually...
... Catia joined the other group, to even them out. Scouring the available ships was one thing; having a good critical eye for the value and state of what was found was another. Even if they made a second trip with more wakeks and even more hands, they had to be very clear about what was worth the effort and what was not. In some cases, of course, they lacked the luxury of pickiness.
To Catia, the pace of progress felt like an ooze across millennia. They scouted, took out what they could, regrouped so that she could record on her growing flimsi list everything found by the other group. Being leashed to the wakeks, they had to reel themselves back in and move as a unit onto the next location suggested by their primary Graveyard expert, Nen. Azair would then stop the wakeks in as central a point as existed, and (not being much of a conversationalist while controlling three bodies: his own, and the two beasts'). Rinse; repeat.
Rinse; repeat--eight times.
So Catia felt that they were dragging the dust and taking forever, but Nen and Breis Teimar were delighted with their speed.
"We're doing better than I hoped," Nen had remarked at one point, around ship/trash cluster number four. He spoke Basic; they were all using Basic, save for specific terms here and there, or small discussions amongst themselves. At Tal Ruus, it had been out of respect for Ava Azalee. Out here, respect for the Hapans. Nen had originally guessed that, if they didn't get turned around, they might get to five of the ships that he had seen that were close to each other. They did get turned around--twice--and apparently were still going faster, with nine hands and nine sets of eyes working, that five became six, and six became seven. Seven became eight, and the speed and efficiency seemed to have perked up the exhausted Mandals, who had been trying to duck thoughts of the future and just survive since the impact. Morale boost.
Breis started talking about trying for a ninth before heading back.
Some things became evident: One or two of the ships in the denser clusters that Nen had thought picked over had not been. His group pulled out all the stops to disconnect and haul a small ship's water reservoir out of its husk and strap it to the litter they'd put together for supply runs like this one, dragged behind the bigger of the wakeks. In that ship, they found food, but it wasn't deep space rations, and was badly spoiled. There didn't seem to be insectoid creatures, and who knew about bacteria, but it all looked off, like it had been food stashed from the Gathering at Um-Shara Yaim. Catia had a hard time finding certain kinds of things, like simple accelerants, and Nen and Breis could only shrug.
Time was what it was. For Solomon it passed neither too fast, or too slowly. His focus was on what they were looking for, even between ships there was a sense of time being lost in the graveyard. Those moments, moving from one ship to the next were the only real time when he was aware of how long it had been since it had happened the time before. Sections of plating were cut away from hulls where Solomon and Buttercup could reach and placed together as they were cut inside the vessels they had been cut from. These Sol would see that Catia put on her list for pick-up later. Between himself and Buttercup they were able to gather some lengths of wire and casing that might help with the patch job of the cable, stripped down three ship bunks for the padding of the cabin beds, and rummage through for the prize or two extra blankets. These were not their only spoils of the salvage efforts. Odds and ends, things that looked like bits and pieces of technology were disassembled from those various eight ships and added to the litter. They weren't much now, but they'd be something soon. In the fourth ship, Solomon found himself in familiar territory and was able to point his Hapan counterpart to a compartment about mid-ship where they found a large medkit, an emergency stash of dry rations and a zero-G suit that looked in the darkness to be in good enough condition that he collected them to add to the pile. While Breis spoke of the possibility of a ninth ship, Solomon took a break to look over what he and Buttercup had collected. Those little odds and ends were of a particular nature and would require a good bit of time to assemble the way he wanted them. True stock would be taken once they got back to Tal Keb. Out here, for right now, he was grabbing what looked like it might suit his purpose with those smaller parts. Sifting through them now would just take more than they had to spare.
In all of it, through the whole search and find, he had kept his senses just as open as his eyes had been. There were moments when things seemed like they were fading, and he had a hard time hearing what Buttercup was saying to him, or seeing what he was working on. In those moments, Sol focused hard on what was physically around him -- what he could see, what he could feel, and what he could hear. That grounding didn't remove the sensation that things were slipping away from him, but they helped him to realize that it wasn't entirely in his head. The perception came from The Red, and its effects which were becoming familiar in a way. When he really noticed it, his reliance on Buttercup doubled down and the group became a sort of center point for him. If he could keep one of any of them in sight, then there would be very little risk of him losing his way or becoming blinded by the swirling cloud of red grit that had taken over three-fourths of the planet. He had been crouched low, shifting through the parts he'd gathered with his left hand doing a general inspection of what parts he'd gathered and tied up into a red heavy fold of imitation leather he'd pulled from a flight chair in one of the ship's. It was a mix of pieces, hodgepodge at best, and most no bigger than his hand. There were pieces of wire thrown into the mess, long thin pieces that may have come from some smaller systems consoles, and connectors that had been separated from their original housings. It all looked, just then, like some of the stuff he'd seen in the dusty markets of Tattooine. Gathering the edges of the leather up took some doing and some thought, as did just about everything else he'd done that day. He managed to get it pulled up and bundled together with a thin piece of dead wire he'd snapped free from the last ship they'd gone into. It was tied roughly, the ends tucked as much as he could manage into the stay he'd created with the bit of wire to keep the bundle closed on the way back.
Looking up, toward Breis and then around at the group from where he crouched in the grit he didn't listen per say, but he did wait to see what the group was going to do.
It was during that moment that the wind gusted. The wind was always blowing, and had come on strong before, but this time the yellow light came in, a hint of it in the sky above, catches the edges of boulders and rocks above them at distances and sizes difficult to judge.
The view from the ground opened up.
For a moment, if they looked back, they could see the last two dead ship clusters they'd visited at the same time, and a little more distance too. It was as if the dust were caught on a column of air, being drawn upwards behind them, and it became like a rising curtain. The claustrophobic room they'd been in grew bigger.
They could see ahead, too.
No sign of a listing pylon along the blasted red-buried landscape.
"There!" Grot's arm snapped out to point skyward. "That might be one up there. Dreamer."
In the fleeting light, there was a shape so high in the air it looked like a back-cracked spider. It looked black or purple, could have been red. It was that hard to make out. But it did seem less regular than the other rocks. There were knobs around it that might have been limbs. If it was a humanoid, they were flung back or bowled over in the air like a letter C.
"That looks like the Astrala."
That voice belonged to Nen, who had still been scanning the broadening horizon as the winds stirred the dust. He gazed out at the opposite far end of what could now be seen. A ghostly dark round-edged shape peeked up at an odd angle out there, looking hazy lavender against the towering crimson thunderheads.
That light was natural. When things broke it was a beautiful thing. There was a sky beyond the red, a galaxy beyond the torment of Mandalore. That small reminder of what day light looked like against a world that had been hazed out and almost too dark to see much of anything was a wonderful sight. Sol found himself looking up toward it, and then snapping his attention to the dark blot that was floating up there, the Grot had pointed to. But then, 'The Astrala'. He looked that way, too, and could already feel his feet moving. He could feel his heart pounding with a run that wasn't going to happen. He forced himself into stillness, and looked back toward the dreamer "Breis," he called to the Clan leader as he stood, "I might be able to get that one down." He was looking Teimar's way, "I'd also like to push for the Astrala being our last ship for the day, if we have time for it."
The Mandalorians in the group seemed to sigh--just a little--the relief of that opening a welcome surprise. They joined Solomon in a quiet memory of what normalcy actually was. Even Catia and Buttercup, standing together, felt it, though they'd been here the least amount of time.
Breis, staring too, didn't look at any of them, gazing out there. Dreamer. Astrala.
In Solomon's wake, Nen added: "The Astrala's the biggest ship out here, alor. Three decks. We've scouted it once, but couldn't get anything out of it. It might be a good bet."
A third voice chimed in.
Jujanaj Azair. Talking in gravely strain, but he'd obviously been listening: "Renda was with his daughter near there. We saw that ship, early on."
Breis twisted around to look at the Eyith atop the wakek, and then at Nen, at Solomon, and finally at Liv before he asked Nen: "How far is that? If we set out that way and visibility drops again, we'll be markerless."
"I can get us back," Azair said. "Home."
Some dark, sad smiles, hidden, at the thought that Tal-Keb now served as 'home.'
"I think it's worth it, alor. Big ship. Rich ship," Nen mused.
"All right," Breis said. "Mount up or run; let's go."
What Solomon had been going through was quickly secured among the pile of salvage they'd acquired, tucked in such a way that the bundle wouldn't be lost along their route out. It was then a choice. His seat on the wakek he offered to the person closest to him. He'd ridden the whole way there, and would likely be riding the whole way back while there were others who'd barely gotten rest like that during the trip.
The curtain drifted closed around them as they set out at speed to try to cover what, in the Red, amounted to a huge distance. When you could get lost thirty feet away from your companions, two miles became the length of the universe even if you were in marathon shape and jazzed up. Visibility opened again, closed again, pinching tighter each time, until Breis Teimar thought they should give up on the idea of the high-floating dreamer, if dreamer it was. The Astrala was big enough as to be hard to miss unless they really failed to hold a straight line (which could easily happen), but finding a single floating dreamer so high that the clouds probably hid the person from sight? That seemed like foolishness unless they got the same visibility back.
Azair kept the wakeks to a run those on foot could match. They left clouds in their wake and got whipped in the face by wind and ash.
Footing was uncertain around the rock formations, where dust could hide dangerous ridges and pits, but out here on what had not long ago been a hard-shelled desert plain, there had not been an accident yet.
The Astrala grew larger and larger in those moments when it could be seen.
As they came upon it, visibility shrank, and Breis wanted everyone to check their cables to make sure they were still very secure. No losing anyone.
The Astrala was in the air, and upsidedown at an angle, starboard high. It could barely be seen, but what did drift into view was a wind-tattered rope or line that drifted high, hanging from....
"That's it!" Nen said. "That's how I climbed up before."
The closer they got to the Astrala the less likely it seemed that they were going to be able to get the being that was floating high above. Maybe the chance would come again. That was the thought that came to Solomon as he checked his cable at Breis Teimar's bidding. From there, Sol went to looking up at the ship where it hung in the air. The jog there had not been so exhausting, but looking up at the angle the ship hung at and its height off the ground made him feel tired in ways he hadn't felt in days, in weeks even. And then the rope.... Looking up at the Astrala, Sol sought the comfort of The Force and in his senses he looked for a sensation he doubted he'd find. Whenever Sadhric was near there was a storm, a rise of energy that swirled and folded back on itself. It rolled and shifted like the never ending formation of heavy clouds before a hard rain. If Sadhric had been there, the Mandals would have found him already. He still couldn't help but do it. There was hope, he had a prayer. "There's no other way up?" Sol asked Nen, ready to adjust what he needed to in order to make that climb in any way he could manage.
"Can you fly?" Nen asked, amused.
Breis frowned up the length of cable, too. He didn't like the idea of anyone disconnecting from the wakeks, but this was a pretty good setup for doing so. "Doc--We'll hold on to that rope and stay down here. Send a team up to scout, let our runners rest, and then when we know what we're looking at, we just drop anything we want to take out the side, gather it up, and get out of here. We've gotta make this fast."
Azair nodded.
While Breis spoke, Solomon's senses here returned no trace of the familiar presence. All around them was motion of wind and sand, but no hidden storm. Just a sense of movement. Yes. Movement. And maybe eyes.
Somewhere.
"We'll go," Liv spoke up after Breis, her head nodding in Catia's direction. She was already undoing the chain on her belt and walking towards the dangling cable to climb. An idea was had about trying a Force-assisted leap.. but she couldn't see the opening well enough, and the last thing she wanted to do was to slam face first into the side of the ship. That would just be embarrassing.
Something became apparent as talk picked up. He didn't find what he had wanted to, but that had not been anything he hadn't expected. What he wasn't expecting was the other thing his senses picked up. He went from looking at Nen, to looking and Breis, and then to the area that surrounded them. "We aren't alone." He breathed out, and sought intention and direction from The Force, like dipping his fingers into water that had been stilled but was slowly being warmed. Someone was out there, but where? And were they hostile?
"Where?" Breis asked instantly, following Solomon's gaze out of reflex, turning. His weapon was in his hand. Clicks and snaps as other weapons were brought around; a long soft scrape came as Nen drew his weapon from his back.
But the horizon--close as it was--was markerless now. Their footprints were already blasted away; even the deeper, clawed marks of the wakeks' huge feet had been erased. They could not see the last cluster of ships they'd visited.
Pausing in her movements towards the dangling cable, Liv drew her slugthrower as well with her right hand, while her left clutched her lightsaber hilt, leaving it to her side for the time being. Eyes started darting around, trying to spot whatever Solomon had just noticed.
"I --" from within his hood, Sol was squinting at the closing in dust, trying to both see and feel beyond where they were for a better sense of where those eyes were located. He turned to his left, stood for a second and turned again before shaking his head. Through the connections of life that surrounded him he was feeling for anything that stood out against what was familiar to him. He knew the Hapans and the Mandals with him just then, but anything else... "Can't tell, but I can feel they’re out there…”
"We don't have time for this," Breis breathed. "Stay or go?" He looked to Solomon for advice, since he was the one to sound the alarm.
The larger of the wakeks--the one ridden by Azair--yawned. Or it looked like a yawn, at first. The mouth gaped wide. The nervous hiss came only after the mouth was wide. The smaller wakek lowered its head. The animals seemed to be eyeing... upward. With birdlike tilts to their big heads. "They seem... to think... the ship," Azair said very low.
Evaluating took what felt like forever. The grains of Red around them could have fallen in just the split second that lasted forever. Climbing that rope would thin them out. Whoever was up there would get an easy shot at them, and whoever was up there was either not a good shot, couldn't see them well enough, or were not equipped to open fire. His concern, though, was the thinning of their party by climbing up that rope. "We go. Anyone we send up there will be at the mercy of whoever is up in the ship. That's not worth what we might find up there. Not right now."
... Catia joined the other group, to even them out. Scouring the available ships was one thing; having a good critical eye for the value and state of what was found was another. Even if they made a second trip with more wakeks and even more hands, they had to be very clear about what was worth the effort and what was not. In some cases, of course, they lacked the luxury of pickiness.
To Catia, the pace of progress felt like an ooze across millennia. They scouted, took out what they could, regrouped so that she could record on her growing flimsi list everything found by the other group. Being leashed to the wakeks, they had to reel themselves back in and move as a unit onto the next location suggested by their primary Graveyard expert, Nen. Azair would then stop the wakeks in as central a point as existed, and (not being much of a conversationalist while controlling three bodies: his own, and the two beasts'). Rinse; repeat.
Rinse; repeat--eight times.
So Catia felt that they were dragging the dust and taking forever, but Nen and Breis Teimar were delighted with their speed.
"We're doing better than I hoped," Nen had remarked at one point, around ship/trash cluster number four. He spoke Basic; they were all using Basic, save for specific terms here and there, or small discussions amongst themselves. At Tal Ruus, it had been out of respect for Ava Azalee. Out here, respect for the Hapans. Nen had originally guessed that, if they didn't get turned around, they might get to five of the ships that he had seen that were close to each other. They did get turned around--twice--and apparently were still going faster, with nine hands and nine sets of eyes working, that five became six, and six became seven. Seven became eight, and the speed and efficiency seemed to have perked up the exhausted Mandals, who had been trying to duck thoughts of the future and just survive since the impact. Morale boost.
Breis started talking about trying for a ninth before heading back.
Some things became evident: One or two of the ships in the denser clusters that Nen had thought picked over had not been. His group pulled out all the stops to disconnect and haul a small ship's water reservoir out of its husk and strap it to the litter they'd put together for supply runs like this one, dragged behind the bigger of the wakeks. In that ship, they found food, but it wasn't deep space rations, and was badly spoiled. There didn't seem to be insectoid creatures, and who knew about bacteria, but it all looked off, like it had been food stashed from the Gathering at Um-Shara Yaim. Catia had a hard time finding certain kinds of things, like simple accelerants, and Nen and Breis could only shrug.
Time was what it was. For Solomon it passed neither too fast, or too slowly. His focus was on what they were looking for, even between ships there was a sense of time being lost in the graveyard. Those moments, moving from one ship to the next were the only real time when he was aware of how long it had been since it had happened the time before. Sections of plating were cut away from hulls where Solomon and Buttercup could reach and placed together as they were cut inside the vessels they had been cut from. These Sol would see that Catia put on her list for pick-up later. Between himself and Buttercup they were able to gather some lengths of wire and casing that might help with the patch job of the cable, stripped down three ship bunks for the padding of the cabin beds, and rummage through for the prize or two extra blankets. These were not their only spoils of the salvage efforts. Odds and ends, things that looked like bits and pieces of technology were disassembled from those various eight ships and added to the litter. They weren't much now, but they'd be something soon. In the fourth ship, Solomon found himself in familiar territory and was able to point his Hapan counterpart to a compartment about mid-ship where they found a large medkit, an emergency stash of dry rations and a zero-G suit that looked in the darkness to be in good enough condition that he collected them to add to the pile. While Breis spoke of the possibility of a ninth ship, Solomon took a break to look over what he and Buttercup had collected. Those little odds and ends were of a particular nature and would require a good bit of time to assemble the way he wanted them. True stock would be taken once they got back to Tal Keb. Out here, for right now, he was grabbing what looked like it might suit his purpose with those smaller parts. Sifting through them now would just take more than they had to spare.
In all of it, through the whole search and find, he had kept his senses just as open as his eyes had been. There were moments when things seemed like they were fading, and he had a hard time hearing what Buttercup was saying to him, or seeing what he was working on. In those moments, Sol focused hard on what was physically around him -- what he could see, what he could feel, and what he could hear. That grounding didn't remove the sensation that things were slipping away from him, but they helped him to realize that it wasn't entirely in his head. The perception came from The Red, and its effects which were becoming familiar in a way. When he really noticed it, his reliance on Buttercup doubled down and the group became a sort of center point for him. If he could keep one of any of them in sight, then there would be very little risk of him losing his way or becoming blinded by the swirling cloud of red grit that had taken over three-fourths of the planet. He had been crouched low, shifting through the parts he'd gathered with his left hand doing a general inspection of what parts he'd gathered and tied up into a red heavy fold of imitation leather he'd pulled from a flight chair in one of the ship's. It was a mix of pieces, hodgepodge at best, and most no bigger than his hand. There were pieces of wire thrown into the mess, long thin pieces that may have come from some smaller systems consoles, and connectors that had been separated from their original housings. It all looked, just then, like some of the stuff he'd seen in the dusty markets of Tattooine. Gathering the edges of the leather up took some doing and some thought, as did just about everything else he'd done that day. He managed to get it pulled up and bundled together with a thin piece of dead wire he'd snapped free from the last ship they'd gone into. It was tied roughly, the ends tucked as much as he could manage into the stay he'd created with the bit of wire to keep the bundle closed on the way back.
Looking up, toward Breis and then around at the group from where he crouched in the grit he didn't listen per say, but he did wait to see what the group was going to do.
It was during that moment that the wind gusted. The wind was always blowing, and had come on strong before, but this time the yellow light came in, a hint of it in the sky above, catches the edges of boulders and rocks above them at distances and sizes difficult to judge.
The view from the ground opened up.
For a moment, if they looked back, they could see the last two dead ship clusters they'd visited at the same time, and a little more distance too. It was as if the dust were caught on a column of air, being drawn upwards behind them, and it became like a rising curtain. The claustrophobic room they'd been in grew bigger.
They could see ahead, too.
No sign of a listing pylon along the blasted red-buried landscape.
"There!" Grot's arm snapped out to point skyward. "That might be one up there. Dreamer."
In the fleeting light, there was a shape so high in the air it looked like a back-cracked spider. It looked black or purple, could have been red. It was that hard to make out. But it did seem less regular than the other rocks. There were knobs around it that might have been limbs. If it was a humanoid, they were flung back or bowled over in the air like a letter C.
"That looks like the Astrala."
That voice belonged to Nen, who had still been scanning the broadening horizon as the winds stirred the dust. He gazed out at the opposite far end of what could now be seen. A ghostly dark round-edged shape peeked up at an odd angle out there, looking hazy lavender against the towering crimson thunderheads.
That light was natural. When things broke it was a beautiful thing. There was a sky beyond the red, a galaxy beyond the torment of Mandalore. That small reminder of what day light looked like against a world that had been hazed out and almost too dark to see much of anything was a wonderful sight. Sol found himself looking up toward it, and then snapping his attention to the dark blot that was floating up there, the Grot had pointed to. But then, 'The Astrala'. He looked that way, too, and could already feel his feet moving. He could feel his heart pounding with a run that wasn't going to happen. He forced himself into stillness, and looked back toward the dreamer "Breis," he called to the Clan leader as he stood, "I might be able to get that one down." He was looking Teimar's way, "I'd also like to push for the Astrala being our last ship for the day, if we have time for it."
The Mandalorians in the group seemed to sigh--just a little--the relief of that opening a welcome surprise. They joined Solomon in a quiet memory of what normalcy actually was. Even Catia and Buttercup, standing together, felt it, though they'd been here the least amount of time.
Breis, staring too, didn't look at any of them, gazing out there. Dreamer. Astrala.
In Solomon's wake, Nen added: "The Astrala's the biggest ship out here, alor. Three decks. We've scouted it once, but couldn't get anything out of it. It might be a good bet."
A third voice chimed in.
Jujanaj Azair. Talking in gravely strain, but he'd obviously been listening: "Renda was with his daughter near there. We saw that ship, early on."
Breis twisted around to look at the Eyith atop the wakek, and then at Nen, at Solomon, and finally at Liv before he asked Nen: "How far is that? If we set out that way and visibility drops again, we'll be markerless."
"I can get us back," Azair said. "Home."
Some dark, sad smiles, hidden, at the thought that Tal-Keb now served as 'home.'
"I think it's worth it, alor. Big ship. Rich ship," Nen mused.
"All right," Breis said. "Mount up or run; let's go."
What Solomon had been going through was quickly secured among the pile of salvage they'd acquired, tucked in such a way that the bundle wouldn't be lost along their route out. It was then a choice. His seat on the wakek he offered to the person closest to him. He'd ridden the whole way there, and would likely be riding the whole way back while there were others who'd barely gotten rest like that during the trip.
The curtain drifted closed around them as they set out at speed to try to cover what, in the Red, amounted to a huge distance. When you could get lost thirty feet away from your companions, two miles became the length of the universe even if you were in marathon shape and jazzed up. Visibility opened again, closed again, pinching tighter each time, until Breis Teimar thought they should give up on the idea of the high-floating dreamer, if dreamer it was. The Astrala was big enough as to be hard to miss unless they really failed to hold a straight line (which could easily happen), but finding a single floating dreamer so high that the clouds probably hid the person from sight? That seemed like foolishness unless they got the same visibility back.
Azair kept the wakeks to a run those on foot could match. They left clouds in their wake and got whipped in the face by wind and ash.
Footing was uncertain around the rock formations, where dust could hide dangerous ridges and pits, but out here on what had not long ago been a hard-shelled desert plain, there had not been an accident yet.
The Astrala grew larger and larger in those moments when it could be seen.
As they came upon it, visibility shrank, and Breis wanted everyone to check their cables to make sure they were still very secure. No losing anyone.
The Astrala was in the air, and upsidedown at an angle, starboard high. It could barely be seen, but what did drift into view was a wind-tattered rope or line that drifted high, hanging from....
"That's it!" Nen said. "That's how I climbed up before."
The closer they got to the Astrala the less likely it seemed that they were going to be able to get the being that was floating high above. Maybe the chance would come again. That was the thought that came to Solomon as he checked his cable at Breis Teimar's bidding. From there, Sol went to looking up at the ship where it hung in the air. The jog there had not been so exhausting, but looking up at the angle the ship hung at and its height off the ground made him feel tired in ways he hadn't felt in days, in weeks even. And then the rope.... Looking up at the Astrala, Sol sought the comfort of The Force and in his senses he looked for a sensation he doubted he'd find. Whenever Sadhric was near there was a storm, a rise of energy that swirled and folded back on itself. It rolled and shifted like the never ending formation of heavy clouds before a hard rain. If Sadhric had been there, the Mandals would have found him already. He still couldn't help but do it. There was hope, he had a prayer. "There's no other way up?" Sol asked Nen, ready to adjust what he needed to in order to make that climb in any way he could manage.
"Can you fly?" Nen asked, amused.
Breis frowned up the length of cable, too. He didn't like the idea of anyone disconnecting from the wakeks, but this was a pretty good setup for doing so. "Doc--We'll hold on to that rope and stay down here. Send a team up to scout, let our runners rest, and then when we know what we're looking at, we just drop anything we want to take out the side, gather it up, and get out of here. We've gotta make this fast."
Azair nodded.
While Breis spoke, Solomon's senses here returned no trace of the familiar presence. All around them was motion of wind and sand, but no hidden storm. Just a sense of movement. Yes. Movement. And maybe eyes.
Somewhere.
"We'll go," Liv spoke up after Breis, her head nodding in Catia's direction. She was already undoing the chain on her belt and walking towards the dangling cable to climb. An idea was had about trying a Force-assisted leap.. but she couldn't see the opening well enough, and the last thing she wanted to do was to slam face first into the side of the ship. That would just be embarrassing.
Something became apparent as talk picked up. He didn't find what he had wanted to, but that had not been anything he hadn't expected. What he wasn't expecting was the other thing his senses picked up. He went from looking at Nen, to looking and Breis, and then to the area that surrounded them. "We aren't alone." He breathed out, and sought intention and direction from The Force, like dipping his fingers into water that had been stilled but was slowly being warmed. Someone was out there, but where? And were they hostile?
"Where?" Breis asked instantly, following Solomon's gaze out of reflex, turning. His weapon was in his hand. Clicks and snaps as other weapons were brought around; a long soft scrape came as Nen drew his weapon from his back.
But the horizon--close as it was--was markerless now. Their footprints were already blasted away; even the deeper, clawed marks of the wakeks' huge feet had been erased. They could not see the last cluster of ships they'd visited.
Pausing in her movements towards the dangling cable, Liv drew her slugthrower as well with her right hand, while her left clutched her lightsaber hilt, leaving it to her side for the time being. Eyes started darting around, trying to spot whatever Solomon had just noticed.
"I --" from within his hood, Sol was squinting at the closing in dust, trying to both see and feel beyond where they were for a better sense of where those eyes were located. He turned to his left, stood for a second and turned again before shaking his head. Through the connections of life that surrounded him he was feeling for anything that stood out against what was familiar to him. He knew the Hapans and the Mandals with him just then, but anything else... "Can't tell, but I can feel they’re out there…”
"We don't have time for this," Breis breathed. "Stay or go?" He looked to Solomon for advice, since he was the one to sound the alarm.
The larger of the wakeks--the one ridden by Azair--yawned. Or it looked like a yawn, at first. The mouth gaped wide. The nervous hiss came only after the mouth was wide. The smaller wakek lowered its head. The animals seemed to be eyeing... upward. With birdlike tilts to their big heads. "They seem... to think... the ship," Azair said very low.
Evaluating took what felt like forever. The grains of Red around them could have fallen in just the split second that lasted forever. Climbing that rope would thin them out. Whoever was up there would get an easy shot at them, and whoever was up there was either not a good shot, couldn't see them well enough, or were not equipped to open fire. His concern, though, was the thinning of their party by climbing up that rope. "We go. Anyone we send up there will be at the mercy of whoever is up in the ship. That's not worth what we might find up there. Not right now."