Jokiro: Terminal
Jokiro
He had come to Jokiro Station for answers. He had come to Jokiro Station to find himself. To reclaim the life that had once been him - Agent Bartleby Orem. His drive and desire to serve the cause against chaos and rebellion had been taken, and in its' place a loyalty to a woman that had left him to his own devices. Left him with the Rebellion that he had once so vehemently fought against. He had been labeled a defector, and been taken into that ragtag fold of people that called themselves now the Alliance. He'd been abandoned and left to rot within the innards of a group that he had once taken great pains to help root out and destroy.
But now, here on Jokiro Station, in search of any help he could garner in bringing back the drive and determination that had fueled him once, he hoped.
Hoped for an end to his listless existence. He wanted back what had been taken, and he could think of no other place that could possibly help him.
And yet, Jokiro was nothing like what he had once remembered it to be. Gone were the once great minds, gone were the academics. In their place now was a terrifying nightmare of horror brought to stark, screaming life.
When he'd come upon the station initially, his shuttle's sensors had detected life, but his numerous hails had gone unanswered. Jokiro itself seemed to be listing dangerously out of its' stable orbit, and the readings on his console projected a worrying outcome; the station was in a decaying trajectory. But still, he had to know... had to try.
His first steps onto the station brought forth a sense of unease. The airlock he'd come through in a state of disarray as e-vac space suits lay scattered outside of their lockers, and tools littered the honeycombed metal deckplates. This was not the picture of Imperial order.
The further he ventured, the quieter his footfalls became. Lightpanels flickered, and far off sounds could be heard. Sounds that were certainly not normal, or even the normal sounds that a space station would invariably make. Conduit wiring hung like drapes from torn away portions of the ceiling, and in the flickering glow of damaged wall terminals illuminated an eery, seemingly abandoned environment. It was as if bedlam had roamed the corridors of Jokiro, leaving indescriminate chaos in its' wake.
But the creatures.
The creatures that he had come upon were born of a twisted, unright mind. He'd found a pair of them quite by accident, and ducking behind a half-lidded cargo crate, he'd watched as they roamed. They grunted to each other, shoved each other, and stalked this way and that in search of something. Clutching the vaccuum wielder that he'd taken from the airlock, Orem crouched, holding in his breath lest the very act of breathing would alert the macabre displays of malformed flesh to his presence. He ventured a look to the side, peering around the crate to watch as the creatures moved away.
Exhaling, he licked suddenly parched lips.
This was most certainly not the Jokiro he had once known.
Looking furtively about, he spied a maintenance access hatchway in the wall across the way. Another quick look back to where the pair had been - nothing. He could still hear them, but the noises they made were receding.
Quietly he moved, slowly at first but his motions became hurried as he slid up to the hatch, and keying in an old access code he prayed that the sequence wasn't too old as to not be recognized.
It was.
The hatchway opened with a hiss, and Orem slid into the small maintenance tube on hands and knees. For now he didn't care where it would lead him. As long as it would take him away from those creatures.
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