Astraea
Location: Deep Space ~ Uncharted Derelict Station
Seeming satisfied with her unwilling compatriot's grudging agreement, Astraea, having reclaimed her weapon and helmet, motioned for him to follow. They'd already docked with the station, which meant that some of its air had probably already seeped into the V.I.R.G.O.'s internal in the midsection and rearward decks, but the hull breach below the bridge meant that they'd still have to pass through a vacuum to board, necessitating once more the use of atmospheric survival gear. Fortunately, with power restored, it was a much easier trip, as the lights, at least, still worked, and most of the deck had already been sealed off from the one junction directly exposed from the breach. Although it had yet to be pressurized, once the hull was sealed, it would be an easy job to do so. She estimated the return of optimal atmospheric conditions within the hour. And, given her distance from any Gate sectors, it would take several days at the very least for pursuing ships to catch up to her at sublight speed, even if they had known exactly where she was. She couldn't dismiss the possibility that they did know, however, as complications with her sensor suites had prevented her from searching for any sort of tracking device that might have been placed upon or within her following her capture. Given their current distance from any enemies who might be able to respond to any signal emanating from her, however, she had deemed repairs to be more important for the time being.
Leading her hostage down to the hangar level, she motioned him to follow through an unsealed airlock, and into the station. From the moment she stepped aboard, she found herself surprised by the design of the strange derelict facility. She wasn't entirely certain how her current body mass matched up with the average biological, but if she assumed her shell to be of a fairly normal size, then she had to also assume that whatever people had designed this station were significantly larger than average, as the corridors could have easily accommodated beings at least 2/3rds again the height of her own body, marching in rows of no less than five. Its construction was very austere, with the walls, floor, and ceiling all constructed from welded metal plates, with breaks in this monotonous design only for the occasional terminal or storage slot here or there, or large, indecipherable symbols that appeared to be insignia of some sort. In that sense, it reminded her strongly of the interior of her own body, with an extreme emphasis on function rather than aesthetics that made her wonder if perhaps this station had been created by progenitors of her own people. If that had been the case, however, there wouldn't have been so much space wasted on such large, broad corridors, nor would there have been so many airlocks. That aside, the apparent age of the facility was such that it seemed more likely to her that it might have been built before the ACAAI had even existed.
"Wait here," She commanded to her hostage, stopping in front of a wall console that still seemed to be functioning - although only barely, as the wall right next to it appeared to have been burned nearly clear through. Judging by the precision with which a single panel of the wall had been penetrated, it seemed logical to assume a projectile weapon - a small-scale plasma cannon, perhaps - had been responsible for the destruction. Regardless, the terminal's screen was still shining faintly, indicating that it might still work. "I will attempt to access this station's computers and determine this facility's purpose." Explaining herself, thus, she prodded the screen gently, as it seemed to lack any sort of visible interface to use in controlling it. The screen sparked to life, displaying a series of characters - what appeared to be some sort of error message. She perused her personal files, trying to discover any sort of equivalent within her linguistics database... only to draw a complete blank.
"Search results... no match found," She murmured, giving a slight exhalation as she turned away from the computer, unable to understand a single thing listed on it. "It appears we must find some sort of device with which I can interface directly in order to decipher whatever data may be stored here. Hypothesis: this station is perhaps a relic of some ancient space-faring race. Conclusion: if this is the case, it may contain lost technical data which may improve my function. Further investigation... necessary." Speaking thus, she beckoned for the Human to follow her as she turned and continued marching down the straight corridor, peering about herself on either side to see if she could spot any doorways leading to other parts of the station. According to her data on the station's external design, they must have been approaching some sort of central axis that would likely contain the majority of the facility's systems. Sure enough, there was a large door dead ahead, although it seemed greatly the worse for wear. More carbon scarring pockmarked the walls, floor, and ceiling, and the door appeared to have taken a direct hit from some kind of heavy weapon, with its outer layer having peeled back, exposing a reinforced inner blast door that, while having buckled under the strain, still seemed intact, if non-functional. At the foot of the door was some sort of war droid - at least, she assumed that was what it had been. It was in so many pieces - most of which were melted and warped beyond recognition - it was very difficult to tell.
The slot beside the door where she expected to see a console was completely empty. Whatever terminal had occupied the space there had been violently ripped out, leaving only fragments of something that looked like glass and a lot of severed wires and warped metal. It seemed the only way to access what lay beyond the door would be to do so by force. Fortunately, the door did not seem particularly structurally sound. Motioning to the Human, she uttered a simple command.
"Stand back."
Reaching to the scabbard slung over her shoulder, she withdrew her high-frequency combat saber, its blade giving a high-pitched, echoing hum as its edge glistened red hot. Holding the vibroweapon with both hands, she scanned over the blast door in an instant, determining the hinge connecting the two separate halves of the door together, and several large cracks in its frame, doubtless caused by whatever weapon had destroyed the outer layer of the door. Lining her blade up accordingly, she gave three swift strokes, splitting the doors cleanly down the middle, and then cutting each door along two diagonals, causing the entire gateway to collapse upon itself as the vibrating blade ripped cleanly through the cracked metal.
She sheathed her weapon, and stepped into the central axis. It appeared to be a computer mainframe of some sort... or at least, it must have been at one time. A door on the opposite side of the room was torn completely asunder, with much of the wall around it shattered by some tremendous explosion. Large computer banks on either side of the room had been shot so many times they were almost completely unrecognizable as such. But what lay at the room's center made the girl's body instinctively recoil even if she couldn't have said why. Astraea hesitated on the threshhold as she gazed at the chaotic scene in front of her.
Across the entire floor were strewn humanoid forms in armor, some missing limbs, others torn into multiple pieces and left scattered across the ground. All had rotted beyond the point of recognition, most with only their bones remaining. She tried to count them, but due to the mutilation and the sheer quantity of the corpses, couldn't determine how many there were. Her best estimate placed the dead at at least a hundred... no, two hundred? She couldn't tell for sure. Something seemed to turn within her, making her feel distinctly uneasy.
Everything both biological and mechanical seemed to have been destroyed beyond recognition, let alone repair. Everything, that is, except for one large machine at the room's center. It looked to be humanoid, meaning it was doubtless some sort of automaton. And, giving the sheer number of violently dismembered skeletons surrounding it, she had a feeling it had probably been the station's last line of defense. It was somewhat serpentine in appearance, with large "quills" protruding from its head in imitation of some sort of natural crest, and large tribal markings adorning its frame - although their bold colors seemed to have faded both with damage and the passage of time. Its silvery armor, too, was discolored in many places, burned, but seemingly not damaged, by the carbon scoring left in the wake of what must have been quite the bombardment.
Shaking off her unease at the scene of carnage, Astraea approached this machine, looking it over. It hadn't seemed to have sustained much major damage, which meant that maybe it might still be able to function if she could restore power to it. Programming code from a battle machine was a less than ideal source of linguistic information, but, given that the station's main computer appeared to have been utterly devastated, she had a feeling that this might be the only functional machine she could get. Turning around, she looked to see what her Human compatriot was doing. Tilting her helmeted head to the side, she gestured to the towering machine. She wasn't sure what Humans were capable of, physically, but this would be a good way to find out.
"This machine. I want it. Can you carry it?" She asked innocently, evidently not realizing that the droid likely weighed at least a ton.