<a class="link link--external" href="https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/67/ba/d6/67bad6b09e26897151727e29ffe811e3.jpg" rel="nofollow ugc noopener" target="_blank">Thomyris “Riz” Heroux</a><br/>Location: Ticonderoga class assault ship<br/>Tagged: All.<br/><hr class="bbc-hr bbc-hr--3"/><br/>Entering into the ship proved little difficulty and Thomyris, middle of the pack, flicked on the small flashlight attached to the side of her T-visor helmet. As she stepped into the derelict ship, she double and triple checked the safety of her sidearm, a recent addition given the tribulations the crew faced prior to this one. To be honest, it was an uncomfortable weight in her hand yet easily forgettable when attached to the magnetic holster on her hip, something she continually reached out to check if it was still there. She hoped it would not be needed on this mission.<br/><br/>She acknowledged the doctor’s warning, already knowing she was here to examine the inanimate technology rather than anything organic. She had her datapad in one hand, ready to record anything of note or access any terminal she might find that could bring light to what this ship was about.<i>Get the shipboard lights reactivated, then maybe find a manifest, then check the logs and see why this ship had to be abandoned. Look at all this old stuff though. Will it even bring a price or value to us?</i><br/><br/>And then they found<i>it</i>.<br/><br/>A gasp of shock escaped her lips and despite the frozen scene before her, Thomyris still shot her hand to the grip of her sidearm when they encountered the horror. Bodies. Many bodies. All of them perfectly preserved in the dead cold of space yet...still. Lifeless. They floated, like bubbles in the air, either stuck in place from a lack of inertia or shifting ever so slowly from a centuries long game of bumper cars with each other. It was sickening, one that formed a lump in her throat. She had seen dead people before but never in this quantity or circumstances. These were not soldiers or criminals, no mining shaft accident or workplace death. They were innocents by the look of them, helpless colonists who suffered the misfortune of being stranded in space.<br/><br/>At the Captain’s command, Thomyris reached out and put her hand on the Doctor’s shoulders, the other clutching her datapad to her side. She didn’t need the Captain to lecture her twice about protocol, being almost equally as diligent in ensuring all hatches, compartments, and sections were locked and bolted shut when not in use. Heck, she’d even slave the Anne’s locking mechanisms to her datapad if she could, able to shut and open with the mere press of a button. She gulped hard and as Iona began to shift through the bodies, she managed to find her voice.<br/><br/><b>“I’ll...head to the Bridge, Captain. I’ll look for a manifest of what goods they had and maybe try to get some lights, gravity and life support reactivated?”</b>She inquired for permission, making a guess that the bridge and command centre would be towards the bow of the ship as was the traditional design of most human ships.<b>“I can go alone and stay in radio contact. Maybe even find some outlay maps too to help coordinate the search efforts. That alright?”</b><br/><br/>Along with anyone who would come with her, Thomyris began to make her way through a separate corridor, trying to keep her bearings straight as she made her way bow-ward.<b>“What do you reckon happened here? Mutiny? Systems failure? Food shortage?”</b>She asked over the comms.