Icarus tightened his grip on the last rung of the ladder, holding the hammer in the crux of his fingers as he slowly pushed the hatch upwards. He opened it just enough to see through, then surveyed the ground he could see for boots or any sign of life. After scanning carefully, he pushed the hatch open more widely and glanced around quickly as he stepped onto what appeared to be the main hallway. There didn't seem to be anyone around as he looked back and forth via the electric lights powered by the ship's engine. He tightened his grip on the hammer as he began to walk forward noticing how quiet it was, "There goes my theory about the group of hijackers," he mumbled to himself, not liking to be wrong about his own theories but also somewhat relieved. He walked quietly toward the control room, reading the plaques on the doors as he went. After finding it, he opened the door slowly and peered inside: not a soul. He slipped into the room and glanced at the controls at the helm... somebody had engaged the autopilot; something that would have had to have been done manually, "There's got to be someone here," he whispered to himself as he glanced behind him nervously, "Surely...no," he shook his head with a small smile. Who would be crazy enough to try and steal a ship this large and pilot and manage it alone? He moved back toward the door and exited quietly, then made his way down the hall toward the engine room. Excitedly, and while looking over his shoulder every few seconds, he opened the door to the engine room and blinked in awe as he nearly forgot the situation he was in, "Gods... what a spectacular piece of machinery," he said aloud as he fought the urge to step inside. "Later," he told himself disappointingly as he backed out. If there was someone on board an it really was only one person, he wanted to catch them off guard before the opposite happened. He thought about the next logical place to look and headed towards the captain's quarters.<br/><br/>A moment later, he found the door and stood in front of it for a moment. He was no brawler, he knew, but if he suddenly found some brigand or pirate, what was it that he hoped to accomplish. Thus far in life, he'd always relied on words to get out of conflicts, but if it came down to a fight then... he gripped his hammer tightly once more and set his jaw, opening the door as slowly and quietly as he could. He heard running water as he poked his head into the room, bristling slightly. He looked around the room hurriedly, searching for a place to hide so he could, at the very least, see who he was dealing with before he decided to reason with them or attempt to bash in their head with the hammer. In a frantic second, he scrambled into the room and looked in the direction of where the water sound was coming from. He knelt and pushed himself flat against the ground, then crawled beneath the large bed, hoping against hope that there would be enough room for him. There was, barely, and he struggled to move himself around so he could survey whomever or whatever would emerge from the washroom... or at least from their knees down, which was all he would be able to see anyhow.