[quote=@Penny]-snip-[/quote]
[b]September 24, 2190 – 1:17 PM
Central European Standard Time
Location: Derelict Ship[/b]

Alistair felt the resonant thrum of the docking clamps through the soles of his boots as Sadek's voice crackled through the comms. "Copy that, Mongoose Actual," Vance replied, his voice a calm, regulatory constant. "We've had to breach through the hull, but landing zone secure on our end, too. Maintain a tight perimeter, Major. Keep the good doctor on a short leash. Ensure the team's safety is priority as you confirm the path toward the energy source. I'm establishing sample collection as a secondary objective - anything you and your team might think be worthwhile. Kestrel Actual out."

Turning to his team, the lights of Ranger-2 reflected off the cold, reinforced glass of his visor. "Let's move out. Maintain a staggered formation," Alistair commanded. Behind him, two Marines raised their rifles as their HUDs painted the bay and corridors with tactical overlays.

Dr. Khouri, the team's linguist, stepped off the shuttle last. Their breathing was loud and jagged over the comms. "Doctor, would you mind?" the XO said, his tone firm, but not unkind, prompting her to regulate her oxygen intake.

"I apologize, Commander" she whispered, with her scanner trembling as it swept across the jagged walls. "But... the walls. They don't look like they're just metal. Look at the grain."

Alistair paused, bringing his glove close to the bulkhead. It wasn't smooth. It looked like petrified muscle fibers woven in with the metallic carbon. "They're right. Looks like bio-mechanical in nature perhaps? Scan it and let's see if we can't get a sample. I want a full analysis for the archives and testing back on the Arcadian."

As they pushed deeper towards the command deck, the war-torn nature of the ship became visceral. "Magnetic weaponry," Alistair noted, comparing the damage to USF weaponry. "Yield is different, higher frequency. The ship was potentially boarded in battle maybe? Can't say for sure. The way these aren't just shots; they are executions of the machinery itself."

The team continued to pus through the oppressive nature of the ship until a Marine signaled a halt. "Commander, look there."

The XO knelt down over the body. It was slumped against a door-control node. He keyed into his commas, "Mongoose Actual, this is Kestrel actual. We just found a body."

In the vacuum, the process of decomposition had been halted by sublimation; the corpse was mummified - a leathery, shriveled husk of a potentially multi-limbed creature. Its skin was semi-translucent.

Dr. Khouri let out a small gasp, gripping their datapad. "Is that one of them?"

"Yes," replied the XO, while scanning the remains with a clinical detachedness. "While I can't be certain due to the body the vacuum stasis, preliminary scans show that this could have been here for about a thousand years? Same age as the ship back on Pluto. No signs of rot, just total desiccation. Note the wounds in the thorax and around the arms. Hand-to-hand combat. This wasn't a clean death." He looked at the marines. "Continue to take a look around. If there's one, there's potentially more. From the way this one is positioned, it was trying to guard the bay and prevent something or someone from escaping."

As they navigated the corridors, Khouri's curiosity slowly overcame her fear. She moved towards a series of etchings above a heavy doorway. The symbols were sharp and aggressive, unlike any other script previously documented by humanity.

"Wait, Commander!" Khouri moved forward, her light reflecting off the glyphs. "I don't think this is just for decoration. It looks more like a directory. Notice the angles? They suggest a more mathematical base. I think I could potentially translate it?"

"Better make it quick, Doctor," Alistair said, his eyes scanning every inch of the ship. "Sweep the corners. So far, everything suggests some kind of struggle here. A struggle to get to the bridge, then to the docking bay. I want everything scanned for proximity hazards or lack thereof."

The silence of the ship was oppressive, broken only by the rhythmic hum of their suits and tapping of Khouri's datapad. They were walking through a tomb, and he could feel the weight of it.

"Alright, I think I have a small part of it," Khouri said. "I think going this way-" They pointed in a specific direction. "-it's the seat of the ship? Could most likely mean the bridge. Alien languages are harder than you might realize Commander, especially ones we have never seen before."

Alistair adjusted his grip on his coilgun. "The bridge. We're on the right track."