photophobic: (017)
KYLO REN ([personal profile] photophobic) wrote2010-05-24 06:24 am

101

Navigating through Hyperspace is a complicated affair, only really possible with the careful calculations of a well-programmed navigational computer, working with the latest and most accurate data. Anything less than perfection carries a substantial risk of the kind of catastrophic failure that leaves a starship and its occupants scattered over multiple parsecs, disintegrated into nothing or crushed into a star.

So Kylo isn't surprised, when his desperate attempt to make the jump in his failing TIE Silencer results in the screaming blare of every alarm it's fitted with, all of them fighting for his attention. He has the time, as the starfighter bursts back into realspace under the bright blue glow of atmosphere, to be distracted from the likelihood of his imminent death by the sheer improbability of the feat. And he has the strength, just barely, to reach out through the Force and dampen the ferocity of the rapidly approaching and utterly inevitable impact with the ground.
It uses him up, the act of cushioning himself from the blow with every last scrap of his willpower. Kylo doesn't so much lose consciousness as the ability to discern where he ends and the heat and ruin of smouldering plasteel begins as his body slumps heavily over the crumpled control yoke, spent and useless.
reproached: (094)

[personal profile] reproached 2020-05-25 06:09 am (UTC)(link)
At first, Murphy doesn't know what he's looking at. He's lying on his back at the very edge of the field, the crops around him doing a good job of concealing him from any worshipers who might wander by but giving him a perfect view of the sky overhead. In the daylight, the tiny spark looks like nothing more than a meteor breaking through Alpha's atmosphere, and he watches it with heavy-lidded eyes as it makes it descent, expecting it to burn up mid-air.

In less than half a second, as the object grows larger and larger in his sight, he realizes his mistake. By the time he leaps to his feet, it's too late.

The impact sends him flying as it flattens the crops around him and makes splinters of the trees on the other side of Sanctum's shield. The thing must have landed right on top of him, he thinks nonsensically as a tangle of vines break his fall. Eyes squeezed shut, dirt filling his nostrils, he waits to figure out exactly how mutilated the crash has left him.

When the adrenaline doesn't fade to agony, he slowly opens his eyes and realizes, no, he is alive and whole. And whatever that was is now a smoldering wreck buried not in the crop field, but in the woods beyond.

Disentangling himself from the ruined crops, Murphy stumbles forward a few steps, squinting past the cloud of dust and smoke to get a better look at the wreck. It's a ship, he can tell that much, though there's hardly anything left of it. Probably nothing left of whoever was piloting it, either, but he staggers in that direction anyway. There's got to be some marking on the twisted metal that'll tell him where the damn thing came from. And, maybe, whether he ought to be expecting more of them.
reproached: (099)

[personal profile] reproached 2020-05-25 07:51 am (UTC)(link)
Murphy freezes when his eyes find the pilot somehow preserved in the wreckage. He's pretty sure some unholy horror is about to reveal itself - not the pilot himself, but what must have been done to his body in that crash. Any minute now, that black cloak will slip aside to reveal a mass of gore that Murphy would really rather not have to see.

He looks over his shoulder, in the direction of the settlement, for anyone else who might be close enough to take over this futile rescue mission. But even if a team of medics were scrambling right now, it'd take a precious ten minutes at least before they reach the crash site.

"Why me?" he mutters under his breath as he trudges closer to the decimated ship. Then, feeling like an idiot for even bothering, he barks out, "Are you dead?"
reproached: (084)

[personal profile] reproached 2020-05-25 08:44 am (UTC)(link)
Of course the poor fucker's still alive.

"I come in peace," Murphy drawls as he carries forward, both arms raised to suggest he's unarmed. He's not, of course. His pistol is tucked into his right boot and his knife is in his left, but he doubts either are visible while the ground beneath their feet is shrouded with smoke.

The pilot isn't the only one who's bleeding. Murphy amassed a collection of scrapes when he was blown through several rows of crops, though his nightblood makes it look more like someone's splattered him with black paint for whatever reason. An understandably unnerving sight, this figure emerging from the dust.
Edited (I know words) 2020-05-25 08:47 (UTC)
reproached: (072)

[personal profile] reproached 2020-05-26 05:13 am (UTC)(link)
Murphy may not understand the words this alien stranger hisses at him, but he can guess the meaning of them, the way it's easy to guess what a spitting snake is attempting to communicate right before it lunges. Which means, of course, that Murphy immediately comes to a halt.

Helping a person is a thing he probably ought to do. He's sure as hell not going to do it if that person seems likely to reward him with violence, though. Anyway, what exactly can he do if this guy is half-barbecued or missing several organs?

"You probably shouldn't be moving around like that," he calls out in wry suggestion, dropping his arms. "I'm sure there's a medic on the way if you're good to just chill a while."
reproached: (013)

[personal profile] reproached 2020-05-27 06:28 am (UTC)(link)
Murphy can't even begin to guess what that language is. The people of Sanctum all speak like they grew up on the Ark, which suggests this guy isn't one of them. He's not speaking Trig, either, but Murphy wouldn't expect that. Signs are pointing to truly alien origin.

That's alright. The message is clear. There's something in the rubble and the stranger needs him to dig it out.

Cautiously, Murphy steps forward and eases the plasteel aside. "I hope this ship's finished exploding," he mutters as he reaches for the medical kit. He assumes it's a kit, anyway. If jet fuel isn't going to blow him up, maybe the box will.

"This is what you wanted, right?" He holds the kit up and approaches the stranger at pace that he hopefully won't find alarming, despite all the paranoia.
reproached: (099)

[personal profile] reproached 2020-05-27 02:01 pm (UTC)(link)
Yes, that is... one big fella. Murphy's glad the guy decided he could be of some use. Eager to continue proving himself useful, he does exactly as he's directed, setting the kit within the stranger's reach. Since he doesn't know what the hell else to do with it, he then backs up a couple of steps. Close enough to help if he has to. Far enough to avoid the swing of a fist.

He doesn't like the way the guy sounds. Murphy doesn't know what to do about the internal stuff. He can put pressure on an open wound, but an invisible injury? That's outside the scope of his ability. He glances back across the fields, searching for signs of an approaching vehicle, though he knows it's still too soon.

It probably won't even be a medical team that shows up. It'll be security. But he's got no idea how to communicate that to an alien without making it sound like a threat.
reproached: (102)

[personal profile] reproached 2020-05-27 02:45 pm (UTC)(link)
Murphy starts when he's addressed, quickly returning his attention to Kylo, doing only a moderately successful job of pretending he's not worried about anything.

"I don't speak alien," he stresses with an exaggerated shrug. Then he points to the kit. "Is that good or not? You need help with it?"

It's only now that he's looking closer that he realizes how perfectly preserved the space around Kylo remains. Almost like it was carved from the rest of the ship. He reaches out, bewildered, to follow the border with his fingers. How does something like that happen?
reproached: (072)

[personal profile] reproached 2020-05-28 04:17 pm (UTC)(link)
Help me is a universal sound, and Murphy knows he should. But the longer this goes on, the louder his alarms are sounding. He does not understand enough about this situation to be actively participating in it. Experience has proven that someone who doesn't speak his language is going to try to kill him sooner or later. He doesn't know where this ship came from or why it's here or how it got to be in such a weird state or how its pilot is still breathing.

He can't leave someone like this, though. Not when they're pleading and probably dying. He hesitates only for a moment, and then he steps forward to assist in working Kylo out of that... armor?

"I bet you're here to invade the planet, huh," he mutters. "I can tell you right now, it's not worth the trouble."