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…perhaps too literal. You nearly gag as part of the damaged floor suddenly gives way, and your foot goes past hardened coral and into soft, pliable flesh with an audible <span class="mu-i">SPLAT</span>.
But beyond that initial unpleasantness, the corridors and passageways aren’t nearly that…wet. If you could make a comparison, it’s almost as if you’re exploring the inside of some sort of shellfish. Certain areas have hardened, chitin-like floors. Case in point, when the three of you stumble into what you believe to be living quarters…for the crew.
Or what’s left of them, at any rate.
<span class="mu-i">So this thing really is being piloted by aliens,</span> you think grimly to yourself as a stray limb floats past. The can of worms this was going to open was going to be nothing short of a nightmare for both the MSDF and the Jedi Triumvirate. <span class="mu-i">It would’ve been easier if this was just some sort of aberrant creature the convoy woke up from hibernation…</span>
The end of the battle hadn’t been kind. Most of the bodies aren’t in any presentable condition, floating around in literal pieces. What hadn’t been burnt to a crisp from the explosion that ripped through the bioship had been violently broken. If not for the vacuum and subzero temperatures, the room would have been a charnel house of gore.
Trykov extends his gauntlet, firing a whipcord towards one of the more intact corpses, a large, muscular alien with nearly half-a-head over you. He reels it in like a fish, after which the three of you gather around the creature. Missing an arm, it stares up at the ceiling with bloodshot eyes, lips pulled back in a sneer permanently locked in rigor mortis to reveal rows of sharp teeth. Talon-like spikes run up and down the length of its midnight-black armor, deadly sharp and foreboding.
B-33’s photoreceptors hum, chittering as it takes a scan of the mutilated remains. “Subjects appear to be humanoid, possibly mammalian. Proper DNA analysis cannot be done without a proper lab, but going by distinguishing features, this unit’s database of known sentient life has never seen such a creature before.”
Its mechanical voice carries a hint of perplexity. “Their faces bear signs of extreme disfiguration, even mutilation. Significance of tattoos and scarring cannot be accurately determined, but extrapolated to some sort of ritual or cultural meaning.”
“Tag ‘em and bag ‘em,” you eventually order. “Anything intact. The <span class="mu-i">Boss Bantha</span> has a better med facility for autopsies.”
Trykov is eager to get away from the body. “Aye, sir.”
“Stay in communication and keep your eyes peeled. Just because this ship’s dead doesn’t mean there isn’t any danger left.”
>>Loot roll…83!
>>The away team recovers…
>One (1) relatively intact alien corpse designated ‘Big Guy’, his armor and wargear.
>Assorted DNA samples of the bioship and alien corpses.
>A leathery, flesh-like sphere whose purpose you can’t discern.
(cont.)
