The Sentry is largely distracted with getting the surviving crew the medical attention they need, and the guards set up to keep rubberneckers at bay seem entirely too unnerved to do more than perfunctory tasks. There's a palpable air of confusion and fear, and the guards only go where the crowd is thickest. It wouldn't be terribly difficult, if one were so inclined, to slip the ropes and sneak aboard. After all, the Sentry don't seem to want to get any closer to the Narrakra than they have to.

The interior of the ship is in even worse shape than the outside. Everything looks as though it's been there for at least a decade - any cloth is worn ragged, bits and bobs have been repurposed into various makeshift tools, and there are haphazard repairs throughout. The cargo seems utterly spent - no cans of food remain and everything that could have been used for some function has been. There seems to be a decade's worth of decay as well - most metal surfaces show some signs of rust and very limited maintenance.

Aside from the decrepit living conditions, there are strange oily residues and fungi-like growths that cling to corners of doorways and shelves. Insect-like carapaces, dry and brittle, gather near lights had once been, crunch underfoot. In the center of one room there is a pile of bones and shreds of matted fur, the skeleton carcass of a strange, four-legged animal with hooves and long fangs that is not similar to anything found on the archipelago.

Where have these people been? What have they seen?