Clarissa moves up behind Burlap and tries to ease his suffering with a quick application of pain relievers.
Cherry directs Tin Man once again to fire.
"Shoot at her." Cherry growls as she pulls her own sonic pistol.
Tin man's weapon vibrates off the closed hatch; it is unknown whether or not it hit, but all trace of the spirit quickly disappears from view. After several seconds, it becomes obvious it will not reappear immediately.
Still looking and feeling older despite Clarissa’s gift for healing, Burlap backs away from the door - shaking. ”Joyride, talk ‘compassion’ and sing Kumbaya when she’s got ahold of you.”
He takes a few deep breaths. ”Let’s keep moving, eh? Maybe that elf woman is trying to help the ghost. If she’s smart enough to re-route power and systems, she’s probably got the brains to send a message out. Maybe she’s here by choice. Guilt is strong.”
Alzura throws the hatch open. "Where'd it go?!"
Alzura throws the hatch open. "Where'd it go?!"
All Alzura saw was the form retreating back through the closed hatch, as if it wasn't there. That means it's either still in the room or...elsewhere.
"Ugh, well, just... be on your toes. No more wandering off alone." Alzura huffs, with no viable targets her solar weapon sputters out despite her irritation. "Clarissa, be a dear and walk up here with me and Burlap." Wouldn't want her gun to go missing again. "Does anyone know anything about ship ghosts?"
Moving up, following the power cable Alzura found leading out of Engineering, you get to the cabin section. There seem to be two sets up cabins, on this level and down a "half" level (a short set of stairs). Each cabin seems empty, though most have been gone through and are a mess.
Finally, on the third door on the port side, the power cable stops, and goes under the cabin door through a roughly drilled hole.
'What if this cable is feeding into something that the ghost is guarding?" Cherry says as she begins to calm a bit. Still shaken.
"Perhaps it is simply to power her holoviewer, so she can stay up to date on her serial programs?"
" I mean Elven Heat is still going. The holosoap is popular. Not nessecarily my cup of tea. I perfer This Ol' Ship" She says with chuckle.
"Does anyone know anything about ship ghosts?"
Burlap answers quickly, "One - there's no such things as 'ship ghosts'. Two - I'm scared of ship ghosts."
"Perhaps it is simply to power her holoviewer, so she can stay up to date on her serial programs?"
"Or maybe it's for life support and somethin' that keeps the ghost at bay. I hope she hasn't electrified the door." That said, he makes sure his boots are grounded and knocks lightly on the hatch with a gloved hand. "Ma'am? Are you at home? We're here to help, if we can."
There is a long pause, and suddenly, unexpectedly, the hatch slides partially open.
An elven woman stands behind the door, her eyes wide, her face cautious. She carries the bearing of a matriarch. Her mere presence feels like sitting beside a fire on a cold night—comforting, enduring, and full of stories. The woman's skin, once luminous and smooth, now bears the gentle lines of laughter and long contemplation, like the creases in well-worn parchment. Her long blond hair has the slightest hint of silver. Tiny charms—sun-shaped buttons, seashells, and old festival tokens—dangle gently from her necklace, and most prominently, the symbol of a hearth.
She glances first at the Ysoki, then and the rest of the crew.
"Are you real? Alive, I mean?" The woman holds her hearth charm unsteadily in one hand, her other hand hidden behind the half-open hatch.
Burlap suddenly feels dressed inappropriately. He quickly runs a paw over his face to smooth the fur on his nose and poorly tries to push the assault rifle behind his back and he stands up straight.
"Yes, ma'am. I'm Burlap LongTail, Corporal, retired... and I'm definitely alive and 'here'. These are my fellow shipmates. We have a boat and we'd like to take you with us, if you'd be willing. After we sort out your ship that is."
Much as she would like to summon her solar blade, it rarely manifests without a clear threat present. That doesn't stop her from stalking up to the elf lady. Even without her blade, she prefers being in close. "Who. Are. You? And what are you doing here?" She demands, eyes narrow, highly suspicious of this ghost-dwelling-ship-elf, or whatever she is. Burlap is clearly under-reacting, but Alzura is on the balls of her feet, ready to lunge at the woman if need be. "Identify yourself!"
Alzura perceives the woman is clearly well-nourished; definitely odd for someone stuck on an abandoned spacecraft. But her clothes are properly grubby. And she definitely appears frightened, or at least relieved that you're not someone or something else.
She does "feel" truthful to the Captain, however. Genuinely what she appears to be, though there's likely more to it than she's let on thus far.
Vaëlorin will quietly scan the elf woman, to determine her "realness" and her "wellness."
"Come inside, everyone. There are Cyleerin here, at least three. And...something else. I'll try to explain once we're safely in private."
Maybe we can help each other?
Maybe we can help each other?
"I'd...I'd like that. But...inside."
Vaëlorin's scan indicates she is as she appears. An Elven female, in the late stages of Middle Age. She is quite fit, though her adrenaline is high currently. Could easily be due to fear.
James seems willing to go inside.
The room is a strange fusion of survival and decay—once a pristine crew quarters, now weathered by years of solitary use. The metal walls are dulled with grime and scratched from makeshift repairs. A few panels hang loose, exposing tangled wires and dimly blinking lights that flicker like old stars. Hooked directly into the room's main panel is the power cable that's been brought forward.
"I can't believe someone found me," the woman says contemplatively.
"My name is Rakshara, Keeper of Findeladlara. I came aboard 20 years ago searching for survivors, and it's trapped me here ever since."
Vaëlorin recognizes Findeladlara, one of the less prominent Elven goddesses. Her realms of influence generally cover the arts and agriculture. Her faith-leaders are usually teachers within their communities. One of her charms, a finger pointing to a golden star, is their order's holy symbol.
Vaëlorin stood still for a moment longer, his eyes narrowing slightly as he reviewed the readout one last time. The woman was real. Alive. Elven. Not some illusion, construct, or spirit cloaked in psionic echoes. Just... a person.
He turned toward the others, his voice low and composed.
“Her name is Rakshara. Elven. Late middle age, physically sound—if adrenalized. I detect no illusions or genetic anomalies. She is exactly what she appears to be.”
The technomancer's fingers brushed across the side of his multicomp, dismissing the last thread of scanning glyphs. He hesitated, then added—more quietly,
“And somehow, we failed to detect her.”
He looked around the cramped space, the dim lights catching the angular curve of his jaw and the furrow in his brow.
“To all of you—I offer apology. The fault lies with me. Our scans revealed no life. No heat signature. No internal alerts. And yet...” He gestured lightly toward Rakshara. “She endured here, hidden. I misread the data.”
There was no self-flagellation in his tone, only a quiet acknowledgment of failure—a rare thing from him.
“Let us learn from this. Not all ghosts are dead. And not all survivors announce themselves.”
Then, a faint smile flickered beneath his usual calm.
“Though if I may say—Findeladlara’s followers are known for tending gardens and sculpting poetry. I did not expect one to outlast Cyleerin patrols.”
“To all of you—I offer apology. The fault lies with me. Our scans revealed no life. No heat signature. No internal alerts. And yet....”
"Ah, hawnarin," Rakshara uses an Elven term expressing kinship; roughly translating to "brother" but with more of a tribal sense.
"I am afraid that is my fault, not yours. I have learned a spell that will allow invisibility to scans and imagers of all types. I've used it regularly in the last several days to avoid being detected by those Cyleerin. I used it not an hour ago when the cameras unexpectedly gained power."
Rakshara looks uneasy at the mention of "ghosts."
"You've seen her, then? The restless spirit?"
Burlap glosses over everything except the two important bits - there is at least one more Cyleerin and... "Wait. Go back to that you came aboard 20 years ago and got TRAPPED here part. Where's your ship? How has it 'trapped' you?"
Rakshara looks sorrowful as she answers Burlap's question.
"I was onboard a small planetary shuttle that was attacked by Cyrleerin raiders. I escaped its destruction and, using my magic, was able to disguise my presence in one of the escape pods. On launch, the pod fell out of Drift Space."
"After floating for a few more days, I was getting desperate. That's when I came across this transport. I thought I'd been saved. The auto-docking mechanism latched on to one of their emergency portals, and I entered the ship. That's how I found out it was deserted."
"It didn't take me long to start scrounging for food and supplies; I was lucky the life support was still functioning. But then, weird things started happening. Something wasn't where I knew I'd placed it. Or chairs I'd seen earlier around a conference table were stacked up together to the ceiling. I suspected I was not alone onboard."
"Eventually, the spirit of a young woman revealed itself to me. I tried to communicate, but each time, she would try to make physical contact. And each time, my life was drained away. Elves are long-lived, but my we are not immortal. I could not risk giving away my life force to a mystery I might never solved. So I hid."
"Then, one day, I went back to my escape pod to get something, and discovered it was gone. I can only assume it was the ghost who released the clamps and sent it floating away."
"I can't wait to get back to the colonies and my community."
"Lets see" Cherry beings to look about the room at the various devices and basic devices in the room she can possibly cobble together something.
In doing so she is looking about and pulls out tools to check for things and began thinking of all the possibilities of what she can do to aid in this situation.
James let's the others speak to her, but considered her story... the words chosen, inflection.
The story pulls at Alzura's heartstrings, but of course and lie would be crafted to do just that. "And what of the cylereen that are here now? Why would they arrive at the same time as us, twenty years after you?"
"They arrived several days ago. Just a small number, I don't know exactly how many. I believe their ship left, though I know they left a few here as well. I'd guess they will be returning at some point, possibly to strip the ship for resources."
Joyride believes she's being truthful.
Cherry notes the extension cable, the camera (currently unpowered), a small refresher station, the basic wiring on the room itself, and the lighting. Not much of use in here, except of course the power coming down the cable. If Cherry could get the main engines started, they would be able to bring more systems online; for that she'd need to go back to either main or aux engineering.
"Why doesn't it attack here?" Cherry asked as she begins to tap away on Totos Screen.
"Also I could send Tin Man back to Engineering and get systems back up."
Burlap wasn’t sure if the elf was a real person or a weeping spirit or what. The scavenged food and re-routed power indicated she was alive… at some point. Hopefully, she still was. BUT – in the here and now – he definitely didn’t want to break the bad news that the colonies were gone. That was a heartbreak for the elf that wouldn’t help. There would be a time for that later. Right now, the priorities were more urgent.
”We’ve got a few things to do. One, we’ve got to find and finish the Cyleerin. Two, we’ve got to make sure Betty stays put. Three, we’ve all gotta get off this ship alive and not take that spook with us. Four, we’ll have to see if we can salvage anything here. With a ghost like that aboard, not sure we can risk taking this boat with us.”
He mulls it for a moment, ”I think we should finish the sweep for the Cyleerin and check to make sure Betty is still locked on. Hopefully, the ghost will leave us alone. Cap’n, what’s the play?”
Vaëlorin listened in measured silence as the others spoke, eyes lingering on the pale glow of his holographic interface before dismissing it with a flick of his fingers.
“Agreed,” he said at last, voice low but clear. “Until the remaining Cyleerin are accounted for, this vessel remains compromised.”
He turned slightly, casting a glance down the corridor leading deeper into the ship’s structure.
“We cannot evaluate its worth, secure its systems, or even trust its airlocks while enemy agents are at large within.”
A pause, then a quiet breath.
“The living take precedence over the dead—and the hostile over the haunted. Let us ensure the ship is ours before we consider what else may be aboard.”
His gaze shifted to the others, calm but unwavering.
“When the corridors fall silent, we may weigh salvage, spirits, and systems. Until then… we sweep.”
"You're close to the front of the ship. All that's left is more cabins and...there's a sealed off area at the front of the vessel."
Vaëlorin remembers from his reading of the vessel's specs earlier that the very front of the ship should be the scanning array. He wonders briefly why that would be sealed off.
"I need to consult with my constituents." Alzura announces, leading the others into the corridor. Once alone with the door to the elf's room closed, she looks around conspiratorially to make sure they're alone. "Vaëlorin can you do, like, a full physical on her or something? And Cherry, can Tin Man watch the ship? I don't like any of this!" She whispers, agitated. "Elves and ghosts and random cylereen just in time for us to discover this ship? No, something isn't right here."
"That forward bulkhead that's sealed... must relate to the accident we heard in the engineer's log. 'Raziya' said something about a radiation leak, sealing the area off with Lieutenant Desnesen locked in there. Then she probably vented to whole thing, at a guess. Maybe our ghost lady is one of those officers."
"2500 feet I can control Tin Man" She says as she begins to tap on her computer.
"If we could get power up and going the enemies may come to us." She says still tapping away.
"Also I have to actively control Tin Man."
Vaëlorin’s eyes flicked toward the sealed corridor, then to the schematic still active on his wrist display. His brow furrowed slightly.
“The forward section of the vessel houses the primary scanning array. A critical component—not one normally sealed under routine circumstances.”
He traced a finger across the interface, calling up the vessel's recorded layout and referencing what they had uncovered so far.
“Burlap’s theory tracks. If a radiation leak occurred in that section, it would justify a bulkhead lockdown. But the logs were vague. Sealing off a scanning array is drastic—venting a crewman, even more so.”
He turned toward Alzura, nodding once in response to her request.
“I can conduct a more thorough scan of Rakshara. Her biology appears consistent, but a deeper sweep may reveal anomalies—arcane, biochemical, or otherwise.”
With a quiet flick of his hand, he began adjusting his scanner parameters. As he did, he added, voice lower but still even:
“You are correct to be uneasy.” His tone did not waver, but the words carried more weight than usual. “Too many convergences. A stranded elven priestess. A haunting. A damaged ship. Cyleerin presence days before our arrival. All at once.”
A pause, then:
“A pattern implies design. I suggest we proceed as though we are already being observed.”
"Design, or perhaps destiny, woven in the fabric of time."
Rakshara submits to more scanning, but Vaëlorin can find nothing to indicate she is anything but what she says. And in fact, she is able to produce several objets d'art from her locker, which she says she was transporting back to the colonies when her disaster befell her. Those, too, seem quite legitimate, and age properly when tested.
Having been sent back to observe the airlock and access to the Betty,, Cherry can see from Tin Man's sensors that everything is, at present, anyway, under control.
The group continues forward (Rakshara either waiting or coming with, depending on Alzura's orders). You find nothing else of particular interest, and no more Cyleerin. Nothing, that is, until you reach the final chamber, facing the very front of the vessel.
Here, indeed, the chamber is sealed. A view-window into the chamber has been pained over with rad-blocking paint. Readings indicate that while the radiation level inside is well above average, entering should be safe enough, as long as one does spend more than a couple hours there.
"Sealing off a scanning array is drastic — venting a crewman, even more so."
"I dunno if I agree with that last bit. Radiation exposure can be a slow and painful death. If I knew I was going to die, I'd rather it be quick. Vacuum may not be pleasant but it's fast."
The ysoki takes a step away from the view-port. Even being this close to a radiation leak gives him, in military-speak, the 'heebie-jeebies'. "If the ghost girl is tied to a corpse behind this door... maybe we should pull the body out of there. Maybe reuniting them will send her on to a better place. Also, the third Cyleerin may be in there, so let's be careful."
Burlap takes a knee, levels his rifle at the bulkhead, and waits for someone to pop it open.
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"Fun. So vent the radiation?" Cherry asks throwing out questions
"Or we can send Burlap in and let him fiddle with stuff, I mean he does know the ghost more intimately than the rest of us and thus closer to death" She says with a laugh that always sounds weird form the Vesk, half grumbling half growl.
"Can one of you lock her in her room? Override the door controls? I don't want her sneaking up behind us while we're dealing with ghosts or whatever."
"Fun. So vent the radiation?" Cherry asks throwing out questions
The ysoki shakes his head. "It probably happened before. Any radiation left is clinging to the hard surfaces."
"Or we can send Burlap in and let him fiddle with stuff, I mean he does know the ghost more intimately than the rest of us and thus closer to death" She says with a laugh that always sounds weird form the Vesk, half grumbling half growl.
Eyes still trained on the door, Burlap gives Cherry serious side-eye. "Your concern is touching. Which of your ankles would you like me to shoot?"
"Yeah I can do that if you want"
'The Right one, it throbs when it snows" She counters with a laugh.
Also, the third Cyleerin may be in there, so let's be careful."[/b]
Opening the door to the sensor array, you note a body on the floor, still crumpled over from a painful death. Oxygen had likely been vented, as the remains seems to have been clawing at the throat area before death.
An ugly way to die, indeed.
No Cyleerin makes itself known; they are pretty much out of places to hide. You can consider the vessel clear, save for the Elven woman and the unrestful spirit.
Drifting like a whisper through the corridors of the derelict starship, the ghost shimmered with a faint glow, memory and pain clinging to her like static. The spirit had long wandered, anchored by fragments of its past life—until at last found her own corpse, skin blistered from radiation
The sight stirred horror combined with sorrowful recognition, a final puzzle piece slipping into place. As the ghost reached out, her spectral fingers passed through the husk—and something clicked, gentle and absolute. The emergency lights flickered. And like a breath exhaled into the void, the ghost dissolved into light, carried into whatever lay beyond the stars.
This leaves the question of what to do with the ship, its contents, and the Elven woman locked in her cabin.
Vaëlorin stepped lightly into the sealed chamber, his eyes scanning the dim contours of the space as if tracing the residue of sorrow still clinging to the air. The radiation here was measurable but no longer lethal—just a whisper of what had once been.
He approached the crumpled form on the floor with reverent care. One hand activated his wrist scanner, the other lifted the edge of the worn uniform to examine for a nameplate, rank insignia, or hidden compartments.
“May she be at peace,” he murmured quietly. “If the spirit was bound to this place, then perhaps the circle is closed. A body, a name, a resting place.”
He rose, dusting his hands off, and turned toward the others.
“We should see her remains given to the void—sealed, blessed if one wishes, and cast free to drift among the stars. It is a far better grave than the belly of a silent ship.”
He turned now to the nearby wall conduit, examining the half-melted casing of the power relays, his voice growing more technical but no less composed.
“As for the vessel: primary power remains unstable. However, if Cherry or I can reinitialize the engineering matrix—either from main or auxiliary—there is a possibility of restoring full function.”
He tapped his interface, bringing up a ship schematic.
“If propulsion, navigation, and life support respond, we may be able to reroute basic control to the Betty and tow the vessel. From there, we submit a claim to the Council. As salvage, it may yet serve.”
A brief pause, then a small, wry smile flickered across his face.
“Assuming he does not object to a new name.”
"That is true. We can slap some parts together and work the codes to get her doing something." Cherry says with a smile.
"As for this lady, we can make sure she gets the proper rest. She lost the battle in this life, but Damoritosh honors those who fought well and did their duty. She will be revered and honored for the sacrifice she made and the contribution to the cause." She says as she looks around.
'We should make sure she is given a weapon. She will need it to join the Great Army." She says as she then snaps her fingers.
"A Cyleerin weapon will do. No weapon is bad if it helps in the victory" Cherry says her attitude very technical in a way.