expansing.
Dec. 7th, 2019 09:26 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
thraxios posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
columbariaThe rest of the ship is dead, not entirely through fault of Gideon Thraxios' own. He staggers through the halls for the first time, having spent most of his time in his cell or dragged from one place to another, past blood and bodies. They make little enough difference at the moment--he'll be among them if he doesn't reach the bridge.
One he's there, he sends out a distress beacon and sits wearily back in the pilot's chair. It's too large for him now; since he was brought to the ship, a nameless, normally stealthy tin can floating far from Mars, he's grown gaunt. His dark eyes are too big in his thin face now, curly hair long since matted and dreadlocked, clothes filthy.
Leaning down, he pulls the hand terminal from the pocket of the pilot's corpse. He suspects he has time enough to hack into it before life support drains away or the eerie blue glow coming from the engine room--the one he'd shied back from instinctively--does whatever thing his lizard hindbrain had feared. If he survives, he'll need to be able to communicate with his rescuers; if he doesn't, he'd rather die reading.
One he's there, he sends out a distress beacon and sits wearily back in the pilot's chair. It's too large for him now; since he was brought to the ship, a nameless, normally stealthy tin can floating far from Mars, he's grown gaunt. His dark eyes are too big in his thin face now, curly hair long since matted and dreadlocked, clothes filthy.
Leaning down, he pulls the hand terminal from the pocket of the pilot's corpse. He suspects he has time enough to hack into it before life support drains away or the eerie blue glow coming from the engine room--the one he'd shied back from instinctively--does whatever thing his lizard hindbrain had feared. If he survives, he'll need to be able to communicate with his rescuers; if he doesn't, he'd rather die reading.
no subject
Date: 2020-01-06 08:42 pm (UTC)"Don't worry, we have plenty of questions. But I'm willing to answer any others of yours, first."
If this man is what he says, he deserves some peace of mind. Now, and for the coming days.
no subject
Date: 2020-01-07 01:03 am (UTC)"Did you recover anything else from the ship?" he finally asks, brows furrowing. Every other person aboard was dead, he's certain of that much. But there might have been databanks, records, any number of relevant information that might corroborate his story and provide some further insight into Mars' next moves. "Is it too late to try?"