Big Damn Heros (Anthelion Crew)

From the dimly lit confines of this room, a single man watched the endless ocean of streaking white light pass by his viewport. It was a scene that he had grown accustomed to seeing, much like he grown accustomed to being a part of. Like the scene normal space gave and felt like to be a part of instead of simply watching it from the empty plains of his home, or any planet he had been on since leaving it. Space, as some planets might call it, was the final obstacle to be overcome, the last frontier a race strives to cross. But that was likely many many years ago.....there was not a planet in the known universe that had not crossed that threshold. And for those that had, space had proven not to be the final road to walk. Because once that hurdle had been jumped, had been climbed through the power of the mind and determination...that many other roads were spawned and greater hurdles formed.

And it was one of those roads that the man known as Tyros Elrune chose to walk. Far from home, in a galaxy he'd never even existed until he'd left that home, Tyros had spent half of his life exploring what came beyond reaching the stars, what came after that glorious feeling. And as he himself had said, there was much greater trials to be had then simply jumping onto a ship and being lifted to the heavens. New things to learn, new places to see, new chances and opportunities that he could never have dreamed of all those years ago. His only guide, the one thing that lead him on that path with steady resolve...was the power they call the Winds.

But not even the Winds could help him with his latest task. Or rather, the multitude of tasks that came with being the second in command of a starship. A warship. A ship that a month ago was just beginning to roll off the cover of its finished steel, power its engines to life for the first time and have the many voices that made sure she ran smoothly come together to take her into the void. For many, that day would be etched into their memories forever. Others would forget as the passage of time went on, replaced by new memories, greater memories. But for Tyros, every day would be remembered in that library of a brain. And now, after a month had passed, he still remembered that first day.

But he was getting lost in his thoughts again. That tended to happen when he was in meditation. It was think of that or think of the constant chores that awaited him as soon as his duty shift came once again. There was always reports to be made, checks to be fulfilled, crew members to greet for the first time, others to meet again for whatever reason. And of course, the task of being at his Captain's side on the bridge to ensure that everything was going well, that the ship was on course.....and that there was nothing wrong.

When he broke from his thoughts, his grey eyes slowly widening from their half shut state to fully look at the stars ahead of him, Tyros's first thought was to glance at the time. As always, he came to right before he was to be expected on the bridge. Moments it took for him to redress himself in his military uniform, laid out on the bed just waiting for him to don them. Most men of the military would be required to have shortened, controlled hair, but Tyros was one of the few lucky enough to be graced with some free range in that regard, his shoulder length black and red streaked hair pulled back into a controlled press.

As always, his blaster was placed on his hip, a vibroblade at his opposite side, knives in his boots. Why a navy man who was never supposed to set foot on ground unless on leave would carry so much would be a question some might raise. Tyros didn't bother explaining; he preferred to have them on him and not need them, then need them and not have them. Inspecting his form in the mirror as the final lace of his boot was tied, Tyros patted down a few spots, managed a loose hair or two...and nodded in acceptance of his image. Without even lifting a finger, the door to his room clicked and slid open, one of the few places he could use his gift with the Winds without being chewed out by his feline Captain.

One day the Winds will provide an opportunity for me to prove to her the merits of my kind. And on that day, I will not fail. For her and for myself. Until then, I can only do my job as best I can and gain her trust, fully and without question. One day.

The Rilan heavy footsteps echoed the corridor as he exited his room, the door hissing closed behind him as he turned to make his way to the bridge. And as he moved through those still clean and polished corridors, Tyros opened himself a little more to the life around him. The empty quiet that allowed the echo of his footsteps was soon drowned out as crew members ran back and forth around him, nodding to him as he passed if they could, some managing a hello and a salute that he always answered. This was the crew of the Anthelion, of the ship he served on. And even now, a month into their voyage, they still had that feeling of vigor and anticipation they had on the first day of their launch. The higher up's had chosen her staff well.

As he made his way into a lift that would take him to the bridge, Tyros reviewed in his mind what the day's duties were. Report to the bridge. Greet the Captain and those of the bridge crew and take station there to oversee the latest area of their patrol. The Anthelion, the proud frigate that she was, had been assigned to patrol the Hydian Way route towards the Outer Rim Territories for possible danger, whether it be from the Sith or from the Mandalorians. Their task was, for the most part, simple and quiet. But it also held great value. They were the first line in that vast space, the first warning to the dangers either side might present. And that could make all the difference. Though the quiet was getting a little....repetitive.

Quiet is good though. One should never wish for violence. But it would be a chance to really put the ship through her paces and discard her "new ship" vestige. I should stop thinking this way.

The lift hissed open in new time and Tyros stepped out onto the wide space that was the bridge. He took but a brief moment to note the bridge staff, all at their stations or attending to the duties that were required of them, before moving to his place besides the Captain. Or rather, he would have...expect there was a little guest waiting for him when the doors hissed opened. And when he said little, he meant it. The clear and cheerful voice of Diana drew his attention to his feet, where the small droid was eagerly looking up to him. Yes....eagerly...he'd said that right. In the month they'd been out, Tyros had grown accustomed to the degree of realness the small droid displayed. He found it fascinating...though you'd never see that on his face. He nodded to her before taking careful steps around her, his hand making a small motion that he wished for her to follow.

"Well enough Diana, thank you. I don't believe I need to ask how yours went; your attitude tells me well." As he came to the edge of the upper deck, he turned to the Farghul woman standing there while leaning down for a moment to let Diana up to a better viewpoint of the bridge if she allowed it. Captain Zharra; his commander. He held nothing but respect for the woman standing beside him.....even if she had been harsh on him for using his abilities that came so naturally to him. With a salute and a bow to her, he turned his eyes towards the same viewport as her, the white lines replaced now by the black void that was space, glancing over the movement below him. As always, the ship was in a state of combat readiness, an act some of the crew he knew did not understand. He did, however; best to come out with your claws drawn then wait for the danger to be on your heels before attempting to draw them in time.

"Lieutenant Commander Tyros Elrune, reporting for duty ma'am. All has been well while I was away I hope."

Everything was quiet on the Anthelion's bridge. Or quiet enough, anyway; there was the occasional murmured conversation as members of the bridge crew talked back and forth, checking on things and relaying info to each other. And there was the quiet murmur of the ship herself.

Tieres was especially quiet for now. He sat at his station, relaxed, but not slouched, and eyed the screens that were arrayed before him. Of course, there wouldn't be anything to worry about unless they got a message from someone that had their frequency, but they'd be coming out of hyperspace soon. Anything could happen then. He knew that from experience.

His dress and appearance were immaculate, as always. His uniform was ironed and pressed to perfection, and fit nicely over his lithely muscular form. His snowy hair was trimmed short and neat, his skin taken care of. Tieres wasn't prissy by any means, but the military had taught him the importance of appearance, and he took it seriously when he was on duty.

Even so, he wasn't a stiff. Not by any means. As he sat there, keeping an eye on his station for any signs of incoming chatter and an ear open to listen to the rest of the crew and the Captain, he toyed with something in his hand. It was an old stylus from a datapad he'd had years ago, and he idly spun it in his hand, letting it dance between his fingers. The old thing was lucky, at least to him, and he'd kept it for years. Wasn't a weapon like the collapsed staff or dagger that rested on his hips, or the short dagger tucked into his boot, but it was something to keep his hands busy.

“Coming up on exit point, Ma’am…two minutes.”

Tieres glanced over to the pilot when he spoke and merely gave a slight nod. almost out. He sat up a bit straighter in his seat, turned his attention more to the station before him. The Anthelion was on combat alert, after all. Some of the crew didn't understand why, but Tieres did. He'd been on the Dawn, all those years ago.

The jump came as expected. Stars came into focus around the ship once again, and Tieres sat at full attention once more as he slipped his stylus back into his pocket. There was talk of something showing on radar...

Then a holographic display, projected in front of his right eye by his headset, popped up and told of an incoming transmission. A quick flick of a switch had it playing.

" ”This is independent ship, Exodus, acting as proxy beacon for damaged freighter Screaming Star. Request immediate assistance. Crew still aboard, power minimal, escape pods damaged. Grid Coordinates: O-7, Bandomeer. Exodus distress beacon on for homing.”

"Got a message coming in, Ma'am," said he, turning back to look over his shoulder to Zharra. "I'll replay it."

He did just that. As the message sounded again on the bridge, he glanced around, watching the other crew members through his powdery blue eyes.

"It sounded awfully calm to be coming from a ship that's in trouble," he said once it was done. He turned around in his seat, ran a hand through his hair. "Could be nothing, but it doesn't sit all the way right with me..."

Maybe it was just paranoia left from the Dawn. Whatever the case, Zharra would make the call, and he trusted her.

Uniforms.

Crassus hated them. Mostly the Republican utility that he was all but forced to wear ninety nine percent of the time. For all intents and purposes, it was a motley of red, orange, and black that was probably one of the most aesthetically displeasing one could get. Whereas the Sith got a smoothe, simple, and sexy on a female jet black. Even the rank insignias were, for lack of a better word, retarded. He eyed the ugly red and blue squares on his uniform, each one surrounded by grey, and couldn't help but shake his head.

Re.

Tard.

Ed.

Though stupid as the uniform was, it needed to be ironed on occasion to keep it crisp. Which was precisely why he was running a hot rock along the stupidly colored fabric that was one of his uniforms. Or was until he heard a gentle knock on the door, calling his attention from pressing his utilities to the slate grey monstrosity that was a republican ship's sliding door. "Who is it?" Those lightly tinted narrowed after feeling a peculiar intent from the being beyond the door.

"Petty Officer Second Class Visz with the fighter maintenance reports, sir." PO2 Visz was the section leader over the F-47's, which made her one of the more important people (to him) on the rust bucket they call the Anthelion. Second only to Kelborn, but if you couldn't trust your own wingman than you might as well spread your legs and wait for the inevitable and violent death that would ensue.

"Come in," the only reply to his beckoning was the swoosh of the door opening, and the clunk of boots on durasteel deckplates. Visz's form was more lithe and streamlined than buxom and curvy, as if she was built more for running than looking pretty. Her face was angular as well, giving it an almost predatory demeanor. While she was far from the prettiest thing on the Anthelion, she certainly wasn't a terror to look at. Especially with those stoney grey eyes, short purplish black hair, and soft emerald skin.

The only thing terrible about her body was the utilities.

"Good Afternoon, sir," Visz said as she handed him the datapad that contained the report. As she had greeted him every time she'd given the report, and most times she'd seen him for the first time in any given day. "Good Afternoon," he replied as he took the sheet and gave it a quick skim. Nothing particularly wrong with any of the units, though that was hardly a surprise. After giving it a careless toss onto his desk for 'later inspection', he looked back up at the woman.

Who suddenly had the top button of her utilities undone. The Zeltron offered a mild smirk as he moved towards her, and brushed away some of that hair from her face. PO2 Visz was one of the first Anthelion crew members that he met. It was actually in a bar about a day prior to him reporting in to the Anthelion on Kuat. They'd been playing around a bit ever since.

And the games soon began.

Today was a good day, Sergeant Shereshoy Kelborn decided, as she whistled a jaunty tune while weaving her way through the labrynthian passageways of the Anthelion. The tune she was whistling wasn't one any of the Republic soldiers and sailors around her would have recognized and she rather liked it that way.

It was a Mandalorian tune. More specifically, it was one of countless drinking songs that she had learned from Jaree.

Jaree... It had been a long time since Sheresh had allowed herself to think of her late Zabrak lover and one-time fiance. Time healed a lot of wounds, she found, even ones that ran as deep as Jaree's loss. It now been several years, since Sheresh had chosen the fate of a dar'manda and thrown her lot in with the Republic, against her own clan and people. She kept silent about her past, but, sometimes, it surfaced in her heart and mind.

And sometimes, like today, it didn't hurt.

Whistling turned to humming as she scampered down a narrow ladder-well and just barely dodged the enthusiastic endeavors of a working party. Sheresh was slowly making her way from the flight deck, toward "officer country", where she was hoping to find Lieutenant Vossk's quarters. There was something she needed to discuss with him...something that had brought Jaree to mind and a song to her lips.

Not that she was going to tell Vossk about Jaree. Or, her Mandalorian heritage. As far as Sheresh was concerned, that was a part of her that didn't need to be known by anyone. Least of all, her commanding officer.

She had never told anyone her full first name - Shereshoy - or had given any indication that she knew the Mandalorians on a more intimate level than an enemy roving about in space. Sheresh didn't even want to think what might happen if Vossk or - even worse - Captain Zharra found out about her name and heritage. Sheresh was certain that all the years she'd given to the Republic in faithful service would be conveniently forgotten and her loyalties immediately called into question.

She had no desire to lose the rank she had earned, or the prestige she had won by being a part of the Anthelion's flying crew.

But, she was decks below Captain Zharra and several passageways separated from the LT. What they didn't know wouldn't hurt them. And after talking to Specialist Raazen, she had Jaree on her mind.

Sheresh was actually rather proud of herself for talking to Raazen. He was an Iridonian - a sub-species of Zabrak - and she hadn't been able to bring herself to talk to either type of sentient since Jaree had died. Raazen had actually initiated the conversation, but Sheresh was proud of herself for responding.

She was even more proud of herself for what she was currently doing. Sheresh had originally gone down the flight decks to check over a few things for First Flight, but she had inevitably drifted over toward the mechanics' pit, where she'd sat down and ended up in a conversation with the affable Iridonian. Raazen was the Crew Chief for Second Flight and had just found out that his wife had given birth - nearly three months prematurely - to twin girls.

The young chief had tried to hide his emotions, but as part-Zeltron, Sheresh had picked up on his anxiety. Birth was not an easy feat for Zabrak or Iridonian females - Sheresh knew this from Jaree. Premature babies were a concern for any sentient, but in giving birth so early, Raazen's wife was at high risk, too. The chief wouldn't ask for leave, since the Anthelion was only a few days out of port and he had been keeping his worries to himself, so as "not to bother the officers."

Sheresh wasn't an officer, though, and she had more than a normal human's fair share of empathy. She knew what he wanted more than anything - for a chance to take emergency leave and be with his wife and newborn daughters. So, she was taking it on herself to go talk to Vossk. The two of them had struck up an easy interaction with one another - Sheresh was sure it had much to do with their mutual Zeltron heritage - and she hoped that she could convince him to see what could be done on Raazen's behalf.

She was confident Vossk would know what to do; he was a competent and professional leader and she felt instinctually compelled to look up to him. Of course, if she was completely honest with herself...

You have a bit of a crush on him, Kelborn, she could almost hear her father's disapproving voice in the back of her mind.

She stepped over a knee-knocker and slowed down as she began to consider the names next to a long passageway of doors.

Vossk...Vossk...Vossk... Her eyes slid over all the names - no Vossk, Crassus so far.

The tips of her ears colored a bit as she thought about the LT. It was a bit hard not to have a crush on him...he was handsome, charismatic, and suave. He had a good sense of humor, too, and wasn't above sharing a drink with his fellow pilots - enlisted or otherwise. She'd spent a more than pleasant evening with him and several other of the squadron pilots out on the town the night before leaving port. Vossk had insisted that, on down-time, she call him "Crass" and he wasn't above teasing her or sharing the occasional bawdy joke. He could drink like a fish, too, which was entertaining, in the least.

And he could fly. Good Manda, the male could fly. Sheresh was beyond thrilled at not just being part of the Black Sheep, but being Vossk's Flight One wingman.

Simply put, she respected him. He was a good leader and that - more than anything - appealed to her more Mandalorian sensibilities. Vossk was a warrior. Maybe not in the way Sheresh had been raised to consider, but he was a warrior worthy of respect nonetheless.

Yeah...she had a crush on him, she supposed. But, that was her secret and her own problem to deal with. Vossk was an officer and she was enlisted. And they worked together. There wasn't any place for those sorts of feelings. It simply wasn't professional...no matter how much she may have privately wished otherwise.

So, she thought about Jaree, instead.

Vossk, Crassus. Her eye caught sight of his name next to a haze-gray door. Sheresh paused to catch her breath and collect her thoughts...and that's when she felt something odd. Something that wasn't exactly unnatural, but not something she should have been feeling from the other side of an officer's on-ship door.

The corners of her mouth turned down and instead of knocking, Sheresh punched the hatch release on the side of the door. It slid open and...

"Well!" her back stiffened and in mere seconds, all respect she'd ever had for LT Crassus Vossk went out the nearest porthole.

Sheresh at least had enough decency to step into the room and punch the door release shut. She then crossed her arms over her buxom chest and surveyed the scene in front of her with deepest disapproval.

Thankfully, she'd caught Vossk and Visz mostly dressed. Mostly. The LT's hands were busy at the front of Visz's open uniform blouse and she had her hands wrapped around his naked back. Sheresh could feel her face flush and it wasn't from embarassment.

It was from sheer fury.

She briefly entertained the fantasy of marching over, grabbing Visz by her short purple hair, and literally putting a boot to the back of her pants as she chucked her out the door. Instead, Sheresh turned the full force of her fury toward Vossk.

When she had first met him, he'd been a commander. But, when she'd met him again on the Anthelion, he'd been a lieutenant. She had politely refrained from asking him - or anyone else - what had happened. But, she'd heard the rumors. And ignored them.

Until now.

"Your abrupt change of rank suddenly makes a lot of sense, Lieutenant," Sheresh hurt and she wasn't afraid to make it known.

She had respected him. And the loss of that was what, perhaps, hurt most about the aborted shenanigans arrayed in front of her on Vossk's rack.

"I suggest you send Petty Officer Visz on her way, before I do the honors for you."

The hangar deck was a flurry of motion. Fighters on platforms and racks were being shunted in a hurry as guide-lights waved back and forth in the hands of non-combat personnel. On the main deck men scrambled over a trio of fighters that remained off the rack, the spotless paint gleamed proudly in the bright light and glinted off the full racks of exterior missiles and semi-concealed gun ports. They were the first responders, Anthelion's Fourth flight. Four of the dozen beings manically attending to the fighters were the men responsible for this particular trio of aircraft. They were three pilots, three soldiers, plus one "grease-monkey" technician.

Fuel green?

Green here.

Fresh charge packs good to go, Sarge.

I need that hydrospanner, ASAP. Three's aft vectoring has seized again.

Roger tha'. The sergeant was at the center of the controlled chaos and he glanced down at this chrono as he tossed the 'spanner to the Bothan "monkey" who deftly caught the device and set to work. His breath caught and he turned to the NCPs.

Clear the deck, hyper going offline en five ticks.

Everything was ready to go. Fuel, weapons, systems all in the green. Each man scrambled for their remaining flight equipment as Alfren Jennings, the "monkey," puled on his headset and snagged his datapad which held the vitals for each fighter; he was their second set of eyes collectively. Archer had forgotten his helmet radio earlier and was quickly reattaching it as he scrambled up the ladder and onto the wing of his Varia multirole craft. Hunter, like always, had everything accessible and right at hand without fail so was the first to thrust open his canopy and flip the switches to have the engines primed as the Republic Venom began to hum with life.

The sergeant was the only one not mounting his own Varia. He was addressing a rack that held their collective weapons against the back bulkhead of the section which the fourth flight called home. Each of the men once considered a Seven carried an SM-82 bullpup slugthrower rifle yet each was customized for its owner. Sev's sported a 40mm grenade launcher underslung on the barrel, where Hunter's had a shotgun and tactical light with a red-dot sight, and Archer's under-barrel space was taken up by a grip and laser sight with an ACOG. The sergeant nodded, a good mix which would leave them ready for anything. While the Captain had ordered them ready to launch once they returned to sublight she had also recommended to be ready to hit the boarding shuttle at a moment's notice. He was slightly surprised the new commander, his OLD Captain strangely enough, was not on station for this. Oh well, first responder pilots and marines. No better duty for a Seven.

A minute shudder ran through the hangar floor catching Sev's attention; they were less than a minute out. Whirling around he placed his helmet atop his head and climbed onto the wing of his varia, sliding the cockpit open. He started the primer on his own engine as the others quickly shot him an "all good" thumbs up. The next forty seconds were the longest the three could remember in recent time; each perched and ready to go when called.

Suddenly the Anthelion shuddered and the light streaming in through the hangar bay returned to starlight as the great ship returned to sublight. Archer was the only one knocked, partially, off balance by the shift but recovered quickly. Taking a deep breath Sev nodded down to Jennings who was waiting patiently as he listened to the headset a look of intense concentration on his muzzle. Tapping his com the Sergeant spoke.

First major deployment after th' Sevens, lads. Show em' wha' we can do.

I. Screaming Star

I hope someone actually bothers to pay attention to this distress signal…and not pirates...It was a simple enough hope as she clambered up the ladder into the ailing freighter with practiced ease. The surprisingly calm message she’d left repeating was borne of years of having to keep her cool under stress, and with a surprising amount of ease that training and the experience those years brought her were back in the forefront of her mind once again as she pulled herself up out of the hatch and onto the deck of the other ship, five other weapons trained on her for about ten seconds before she spoke, grey eyes turning toward the man (some sort of canine species) who seemed to be in charge of this particular group of individuals.

By their gear they seemed to be security of some sort.

”How much power is left and is it enough to continue life support? Are there any pods left intact that you know of and if so have you begun evacuations? And how many surviving crew are there remaining on the ship?”

The questions seemed to catch them off guard, the weapons lowering just slightly as she looked around at the state of the corridor. It wasn’t bad, but then, the only real lights were the back up lights dotted along the edges of the walkway every five yards (just enough to see what where the walls were and the direction of the corridor), the flashlights attached to the weapons the men (and two women) carried, and the red klaxon lights along the ceiling. Sam dug around in her pocket a moment and produced her own small flashlight, snapping it onto the top of her rifle before turning it on. The canid man seemed to debate answering for half a moment before nodding to the others, their weapons lowering…thank the Goddess for that, too.

“We’ve about thirty two in total left alive. A few got away, but not many…most of the pods were destroyed either just after launch or before they could be launched. So far as we know none of them are left operational. We’ve got some force fields in place where the hull was breeched, but those are sapping power swiftly. There’s a problem though…”

She bit back a sigh.

”What’s the problem?”

As if there weren’t enough already…the Exodus wasn’t built to carry that many people, but it would at least be able to pack them all in and get them down to Bandomeer…

“Before we had to shut down power to non-essentials some of our people were trapped in the engine room. What’s worse is the fact that we’re not even sure if the privateers that attacked us are gone.”

Sam stiffened just barely at the word…privateers. Pirates. Of course it had to be pirates. It couldn’t possibly be something tolerable…like Mandalorians…or Sith. Cripes. Still, she simply nodded. ”I see. Alright. I’ll do what I can to get your men out safely and get more help. Take me to…” Her voice trailed off for a moment as something moved down at the far end of the corridor. Immediately six weapons (her own included) were trained in the direction of the sound.

“Could be the ship…”

“Could be some of the crew, too, but…”

”…but it could also be unwanted visitors.”

They’d all been thinking it, she was just saying it.

The canid commander nodded slightly to her muttered words and motioned to them all as he shut the hatch that led between the two freighters then started down the hallway. The rag-tag team followed behind, Sam taking up position at his four o’clock, rifle held tight to her shoulder. Her trigger finger was itching mighty badly right now. That’s no good Sammy-girl. Cut it out. Still, the thought of pirates…

Upon reaching the bottom of the corridor, they discovered nothing but a twisted panel of metal that had come away from the wall and fallen partially. Glancing at the man-in-charge, she looked past him and down another section of hallway, her rifle coming to bear in that direction for a moment before she looked at him fully. It’s times like these that I miss the Bullpups. She’d been about to say something to the fox-looking man when his com unit beeped twice before crackling with static.

“Gareth? Gareth are you there?”

Pulling the small com-radio from his belt, he nodded his head in the direction they needed to go and started walking again.

“Yes, I’m here.”

“Good…did you find whoever it was that we got the signal from? Is help coming?”

“Yeah, we found her. We’re on our way back now, but we’re still hearing movement in the halls, so don’t open those doors until we get there. How’s the ship’s status?”

“Well…”

“That good, huh? Alright, we’ll get a move on.”

She could almost see the man on the other side give a relieved nod in reply.

“Good…good, please do.”

Gareth, she was assuming that was the fox-man’s name now, clicked off his end of the com transmission and clipped the thing back to his belt. “You heard the man, let’s get a hustle on.” Sam could only nod slightly, her pace picking up to match the swift jog of the others as they wound their way through the ship. It would take them a good five minutes of crawl spaces and ladders to get to the level they needed, Sam picking Gareth’s mind about anything and everything that might be useful in getting the crew off the ship and onto the planet. Unfortunately there wasn’t much. There was a hangar bay, as it turned out, but no one knew what state it was in or if the doors to it were operational. There was no shuttle to help ferry them out ‘just in case’ and much of the ship’s space was taken up with cargo…not to mention they were still frighteningly close to the gravity well of the planet below.

By the time they got to the bridge Sam had a very bad feeling about this whole situation.

“Thank goodness you’re back, Gareth!” They were greeted by a very anxious looking Bothan, who immediately ushered them all in…eyeing Sam dubiously in the process. “She’s the one that came?” His answer came in the form of a single nod from Gareth as the blast doors closed and locked behind them. “Well…alright. At least your transponder will help in getting some help to us I hope.” As he hurried forward through the bustle of crew members to look over the readings at the long row of consoles, Sam would follow him, Gareth hot on her heels.

”Are you the one in charge here, sir?”

Her words seemed to take the Bothan by surprise as he turned to look at her over his shoulder. “Yes…yes, I’m the captain of what’s left of this hulk. Not by choice, mind you…Captain Kriax died in the attack. I’m Bauth Yirril.” Again he eyed her dubiously, and she stood perfectly still for him to do so. She watched his eyes work over her jump suit and the…morbid…quote on her chest, as well as working over her helmet and the rest of her gear. Grey eyes watched him vacillate between slight trust and paranoia as his stance and facial expressions changed. For a moment she even thought she caught a subtle hint of recognition….but that might have been her own paranoia. “You military?”

”Former military, yes, Mr. Yirril, and I’m willing to do whatever I can to get you and your crew off this floating death-trap, but I need to know what state the ship is in and about how much time we have before things really turn ugly.” She didn’t twitch a muscle, but her eyes flashed along the readouts behind him (the ones she could see, anyway). The ship seemed to be holding its orbit for now, which was good, but power was draining steadily and that wasn’t good. Not good at all.

“I’d say we have about thirty minutes if we keep the energy use as static as possible. Luckily we’re clear of the gravity well, so it hasn’t been a problem…”

That didn’t mean much, and she knew it. If those pirates were still around and decided to attack again (Goddess forbid), a couple of good hits and…well, she wasn’t going to let that be an option. She’d just have to ferry the crew down to the surface before that happened. ”Alright…well you’re getting off before long if I have anything to say about it. Now show me whereabouts the rest of your crew is stuck…”

“Sir! I…I think we’re being hailed!”

“By who? Can you tell?!”

“It….sounds like a…like a Republic…something. I can’t tell. Com’s too spotty with the damage…”

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II. Anthelion

Diana, the darling little droid that she was, chirped a happy little “oh that’s good to hear!” back at Tyros as he replied to her, a little laugh escaping her moments after as he said he didn’t need to ask after herself. Well, she did tend to wear her so-called ‘emotions’ on her proverbial sleeve. Little paws scrambled slightly along the metallic floor as she bounded after him, sparkling synthskin glistening as she undulated along. Skidding to a halt between Tyros and Zharra, she ‘blinked’ round photoreceptors up at the Rilan as he offered her a way up, which she readily took. Bounding onto his hand, she’d loop her way up around his arm and onto his shoulders, draping herself around the back of his neck as her head swiveled this way and that while she looked around from her new vantage point.

“Lieutenant Commander Tyros Elrune, reporting for duty ma’am. All has been well while I was away I hope.”

Hazel eyes glanced over to her second in command as he arrived beside her, the flicker of glitter, color and movement across his shoulders pulling a smirk onto her face, if only just barely. One ear twisted around toward him as the other flicked back and forth, listening to the sounds on the other side of the bridge before she finally looked over at him fully.

”You’re going to spoil her if you keep doing things like that, Mr. Elrune. She’s bad enough as it is.” It was an odd sort of greeting, certainly, but…well…she couldn’t resist the open ‘invitation’ to tease both of them, those blue-green eyes flickering with amusement as Diana protested quietly from Tyros’ shoulder before the Farghul was back to business. Keen eyes swept once along Tyros’ form, taking in the well pressed appearance. ”Tidy and prompt as usual, XO. We have some anomalous energy readings near to the planet that we need to keep an eye on, but other than that it’s just another da—“ Her words were interrupted by Tieres’ words. Falling quiet, her eyes narrowed just slightly as she gazed over at him, ears perked forward and tail going from easy movements to a more tense swish.

“Got a message coming in, Ma’am; I’ll replay it.”

With a curt nod, she listened to the message with a slightly furrowed brow, her ears swinging forward and tipping back in turns. Those eyes locked onto the void of space as her mind echoed the message again at a higher speed, picking out key words and tones. She could hear Jost muttering to himself at the primary pilot’s station, and a heavy huff of air from the wall behind Tyros and herself signaled what was, no doubt, Roshgar’s distaste as well.

“It sounded awfully calm to be coming from a ship that’s in trouble.”

Hazel eyes turned down to look back at her friend and primary communications officer as he spoke, meeting with his powder-blue eyes. She knew where he was going with this already…not that she necessarily disagreed.

“Could be nothing, but it doesn’t sit all the way right with me…”

She nodded slightly to him, her ears turned back just a bit as her mind worked to settle on a decision with her orders. ”Thank you, Mr. Ryal. Please see if you can discover the hailing signal of the ship ‘Screaming Star’ since that is the one that supposedly requires assistance. Also, prepare a return message for both this proxy, Exodus, stating just who and what we are. Don’t send it until you find a second signal, or we gather more information on the situation. Best to keep silent until we discover there are, in fact, two ships.

Miss. Lorin. Do we have a lock on that homing becon?”

“Yes ma’am. Two, I believe, but it keeps cutting out…the other is steady and strong, but they appear to be in the same location.”

She nodded just slightly…it was enough for her to feel comfortable in moving forward. ”Very good. Mr. Nevvan, Mr. Hrin, set course toward that homing beacon. Bring us around carefully, and leave us plenty of breathing room…let’s stay just within reach of our long range weapons, no closer. Mrs. Korlia, keep running long range scans for anything lurking out there…”

“Aye, ma’am…bloody asteroids are gonna be a pain, though.”

Ignoring her pilot’s grumblings she turned back to the viewport. She had to admit…between Jost Nevvan and Lux Hrin, the Anthelion’s bulk seemed to move effortlessly through the asteroid field. She knew better…part of her wondered if she was even capable of maneuvering through something like this any more. Well…I hope we don’t end up having to find out the hard way. I’d really much prefer not to have any reenactments of the Dawn tragedy, she mused silently.

The further they got into the asteroid field the more she could tell just how difficult it was for the pilots as they moved with their navigations as the frigate tilted and turned through the natural obstacle course. Each muscle in her body tensed and loosened with the motions, her tail swaying about to help her keep that perfectly balanced poise as she stood, hands clasped behind her back and ears perked forward. Sea colored eyes watched passively as an asteroid passed only a short distance from one of the bridge viewports, a small smirk lingering around the corners of her mouth. For as much as she remembered hating the stress of maneuvering through fields like this, when she looked back on it she remembered the times fondly. They had been just as fulfilling as anything she did now. Breaking through the other side of the asteroid field, however, she immediately sobered at the sight that lay before them.

”Mr. Elrune, I need you to get Lieutenant Vossk to gather his flight together and suited up on the double. Considering the state of this freighter I want our shuttle to have back up and protection. Also have the other two wings ready and on standby.” With a sharp look to Diana, the little familiar nodded and scrambled down the first officer’s arm and onto the railing, her paws magnetizing to keep her attached to it without completely falling on her face…or worse…into the crew members below.

”I need a line open to fourth flight, now.” Moving around to her station controls, she waited for one of the secondary com-officers to open the channel before depressing one of the buttons as her crew got to work. ”Sergeant Sevchenko. Get your men ready to act as a boarding party with the shuttle, and gear yourselves for potential trouble. We have an ailing freighter that may have survivors on board, but the transmission we’re receiving is suspicious, not to mention the scene we’ve arrived to. It behooves us to be extra cautious here, sergeant, so expect Lieutenant Vossk and his flight to accompany you in their fighters as an escort. Understood?

Tyros watched Diana carefully as she masterfully made her way up his arm to his shoulders, no obvious show of discomfort at a small metal droid climbing him like a tree. Inward, there was a few grunts as she perched herself behind his head, but he quickly adjusted to the new weight on his shoulders, as always. It helped, he mused to himself, that this wasn't the first time he'd allowed Diana to locate herself there. At least he was slowly becoming use to it.

"I wasn't aware it was possible to spoil a droid ma'am. But seeing as Diana is far from simple, I can see how it would be possible. I'll remember that for future reference."

Turning his head to glance over the bridge for a moment, Tyros felt a similar feeling well up in his chest. Three years ago, he'd been in this very same position, standing beside a different captain as they overlooked their crew hard at work. What was this feeling called....nostalgia, that's what it was. Memories of the past that once brought pride and warmth to him returning in one swift rush. But it also brought up other memories...those that had stolen him away from his place, this feeling. And as he looked over the new crew that he'd been tasked to help run, those memories only reaffirmed what he had to do.

What he would do to make sure that kind of event never happened again.

"I try Captain. Do we know what's causing the readings? Perhaps to be on the safe side we should do an more in depth..." He was cut off just as fast as their comm officer, Tieres, suddenly broke the quiet chaos of the bridge staff at work. Gray eyes snapped to him, fast as a bolt of lightning(not really, but you get the idea), to settle on his form. He'd obviously been waiting for a better moment to inject himself with this message but urgency had finally pushed him to interrupt them to get it across.

Both of them lapsed into silence as Tieres keyed the message to play again over the bridge's main speaker. Tyros felt many of the crew shift their attention to listen to it, some of them still managing to attend to their work even while listening, most stopping entirely to hear what was so desperate that it needed to be echoed for all to hear. It played once, as it normally came through, then a second time as Tieres played it again with less static this time. A distress call....well, so much for it being every other day, as the Captain had been about to say earlier.

Calmly, he replayed the message again in his head, Tieres speaking exactly what his own mind was thinking. The speaker of the message had sounded calm...much to calm, he pondered, for someone sending out a distress call such as that. Still, that didn't mean it was as bad as it could have sounded. Perhaps whoever sent the message, the woman in charge of this ship, the Exodus, was able to keep calm under pressure. At least, in his experience, those that flew independent ships had to have some strong nerves if they ever hoped to make it in his galaxy. It could very well be that. Or maybe she was just coming upon the ship and was not yet in any danger herself, and had sent a calm message so that the situation was clear for any that heard it.

Or it could be, his mind knew, a trap. But if she was being held at gunpoint to relay that message, the chances of there being no stress in that voice were low. From the message alone though, Tyros could not say.

What a coincidence that just as they arrived, they came across trouble already. The Mythos certainly wasn't playing favorites today. As Zharra sent out her orders to the men and woman around them, Tyros closed his eyes, focusing his senses outward, into that great vastness of space around them. At this distance, he likely wouldn't be able to get any clear feeling from this supposedly in danger ship, especially if there were multiple people involved all radiating different emotions. But if there was a collective will, a collective mass of the same emotions, such as panic or fear or malignant intent...then just maybe. Long and hard he focused into the void, only slightly aware of what was happening around him. Of the Captain ordering them to maneuver into an asteroid field for example.

As dug into the Mythos as he was, he couldn't help but feel the emotions swaying from those around him. The tense but confident pilots as they moved the massive ship between those giant space rocks....some barely big enough to be considered a threat, others so big that even with the shields up the asteroid would do some serious damage. The point laser defense system would be working overtime if they had to get clear of this belt in a hurry. And then there was the captain...Zharra herself was a mixture of tense..and something that felt like amusement, brought on by something she saw out there in those asteroids. Old memories, like he'd had perhaps?

Either way, he didn't have much time to ponder it before she spoke again, this time his name being said. Slowly opening his eyes, he turned to look at her as she spoke to him, handing him a set of orders to follow regarding this matter. He felt Diana suddenly shuffle and then scamper from his arm to the railing, part of him half expecting her to slip and fall onto the ground below. That, however, was not the case; instead, her paws seemed to anchor to the railing instead, keeping her hanging from it instead of falling into the crew below. Another interesting feature, he mused to himself.

"Yes ma'am. I'll have them up and ready." Moving from her side, he stepped down into the row of consoles before them, coming to stand beside Tieres at his station. Leaning down, he flicked a switch and keyed in the comm...first to the private comm each commanding officer had, starting with Vossk's, then to the hangar comm. "Pardon me Mr Tieres, this will but take a moment.

Lieutenant Vossk, this is Lieutenant Commander Elrune. The Captain has ordered you and your flight to suit up and be ready for protection detail. We have a ship in apparent distress and we want you to run escort for the shuttle team that we'll be sending to investigate. Your orders are to guard and if danger arises, to ensure the shuttle makes it to its destination or back to the ship. Double time Lieutenant, we'll be arriving shortly.

Third and First wing, get to the hangar and suit up as well. In case we do run into trouble, I want you ready and able to launch in seconds.

Hangar, this is the Commander speaking. Prep all wings, including fourth flights fighters, for departure. Keep the fourth flights fighters on standby, however, as they're pilots will be going on a ground mission. Still, it doesn't hurt to have them ready in case the situation requires we add them to our flight detail."

Stepping back from the comm, Tyros turned his eyes upwards at the space in front of them, a small speck that he could only assume was their destination, appearing on the monitor. Tilting his head a little to look at the Captain, he gave her a swift nod. "All flights have been notified ma'am. Would you like me to join the Sergeant and his men? If there's trouble, my unique talents may help in seeing them coming before they actually happen."

Tieres nodded at the Captain's orders and turned back to face his station again. Look for a hailing signal for the Screaming Star, prepare a return message to send to the two ships. If there were, in fact, two ships to send a message to. Simple enough, he told himself. Nothing I haven't done a hundred times over before.

Though his hands moved with a practice ease over his station, something was different about Tieres. His mind was more alert, his muscles tense, especially in his upper back. Situations like these were part of the job, but he had a certain dislike for them.

Always had, ever since the Dawn.

SCANNING....

SCANNING....

As the scanner began to search for the hailing signal, Tieres took a moment to glance up and around the bridge. Everyone else was busy, or alert. Tyros still stood next to the Captain. He spotted asteroids growing nearer out in the void.

"No need to waste time," he muttered to himself, turning around once more. He tapped the stylus in his hand a few times as he pressed some keys with the other. While the scanner worked to get a signal, he could prepare a message to send to the two ships. No need to wait for the thing to finish, even if it shouldn't take long.

A red light lit up and Tieres flipped a switch to record his message. As he was drawing in his first breath, he heard the sound of footsteps on the metal floor behind him and glanced back to see the XO approaching. Apparently he wanted to use the comm for something. Tieres flipped the recording switch to stop it and gave a simple, respectful nod as he moved his seat back so Tyros could do his work.

Once Tyros left, Tieres moved his seat back in place and glanced to the scanner.

SIGNAL FOUND

"Let's see what we've got here..."

He looked at the two numbers provided and did a cross-check. One was the one that had come when the Exodus sent a message. The other must be the Screaming Star then.

Good. Things were moving smoothly.

With an easy flick of a finger, he started another recording. "Freighter Screaming Star, and Independent ship Exodus, this is the RMS Anthelion. We are moving in to assist. Please respond as soon as possible, if able."

Once his message was said, he flipped the recording switch off sent it on to the two ships before and glancing back over his shoulder to Zharra. "Captain, I've found a signal for the Screaming Star. I've also sent a return message to them, as specified."

Those red hands seemed to find a way to the woman's hips as he moved in to kiss her, the pretty but gaunt green face dominating his vision as their lips pressed together. The kiss had an electric quality to it, one that tingled down his spine and left him wanting more after they drifted apart. Empathy wasn't needed to see that Visz liked the kiss just as much as he did, by the look of her face and the way that those eyes were shut. With it, though, he got a second pleasure... feeling hers.

Crass could have just as easily tugged at each side of the blouse in a way and have it off of her in moments, but that was just no fun. His hands moved up to undo the next button, and he'd nearly had it when the man heard the sound of a door sliding open. Those hands instantly found their place at his side, and he had spun to hide the way his uniform had been disheveled at her touch... but it was too late. The interloper saw all that she needed to see.

"Well," he heard the Kelborn's voice say. The man's face tensed up and he cursed under his breath. Visz did, too. "Your abrupt change of rank suddenly makes a lot of sense, Lieutenant. I suggest you send Petty Officer Visz on her way, before I do the honors for you."

"That's probably advisable, Kelborn," he said in a tone that would suggest nothing was wrong. "Your dismissed, Petty Officer," the man took a moment to fix his uniform before turning around, shame and embarrassment practically bursting at his seams. Not that anyone could tell by looking at him. Even as the green skinned woman buttoned up her blouse and hurriedly left the room, his face was nothing but a mask of calm.

After she left a heavy sigh caused his shoulders to sink for a moment, and he found himself wanting something else: to be blown out of an airlock. He'd gotten a battalion level non-judicial punishment (NJP) and lost not one but two ranks because of fraternization. Practically the same day, he was doing the same thing.

That red hand moved up to run through his hair when he stopped, and noticed that it was in fact of a red hue. A little smile and a doleful smile curved at his lips. Crassus Vossk was caught red handed. After a few seconds, he shook his head and looked back up at the surely soon to be wolverine of a wingwoman. "I think I have a probl-" "Lieutenant Vossk, this is Lieutenant Commander Elrune. The Captain has ordered you and your flight to suit up and be ready for protection detail. We have a ship in apparent distress and we want you to run escort for the shuttle team that we'll be sending to investigate. Your orders are to guard and if danger arises, to ensure the shuttle makes it to its destination or back to the ship. Double time Lieutenant, we'll be arriving shortly" LtCdr Elrune's voice cut him off. Saved by the Delta Bravo. For the moment, anyways.

Crass only looked down at his table and moved his hand next to the page button. It would contact all of the members of the flight wing, but he hadn't pressed it just yet. Those green eyes moved up to the ceiling, as if looking up would make a difference. "Ayeaye, sir," he pressed the button to address his pilots and flight control, "okay gents. Be out in the hangar in five minutes," which meant be out there ten minutes ago with the fifteen minutes prior rule applied, "you'll get briefed there."

Releasing the page button, he finally turned to the still furious Zeltron at his door. He was at a loss for words. An officer couldn't think of a thing to say... rare indeed. "I.... I think it'd be best if we talked about this after the op," he paused for a minute, "I know you don't want to fly with me. Hell I wouldn't follow me to the chow hall and back after this, let alone combat. But if we don't do our job right now, and there's guys out there, people are gonna die. And it won't be the pirates."

Vossk moved to his locker and slipped his flight suit over his cammies once their exchange was done, and he'd then made the long trek to the hangar. Once there, he looked at his men... who'd all gotten there before he did. "Alright. This isn't going to be anything exciting. All that we're doing is escorting the response team to a distress call. Pretty straight forward." He really wished that he could give them a more complete briefing, but Crass didn't know anything himself. Something told him that they didn't either, though. Either that or command is more Fracked Up than a Football Bat. Which was actually the more likely of the two options.

Football Bat.

Vossk smirked a bit. He found a new nickname for a member of the crew.

With the frigate out of hyperspace the trio of pilots had expected the launch order to drop immediately. However, as Alfren stood at the foot of the three fighters left paw on his headset the seconds drew on endlessly without change. All around the hangar the activity had kicked up, the other members of the support staff readying the other fighters for takeoff. Gears squeaked and platforms whooshed as fighter after fighter for the other flights were moved into their designated preparation position. The other activity did little to ease the anxious trio of pilots who were ready (and eager) to deploy. Despite their status of “at ease” while perched atop their warmed up fighters they were anything but. Archer, always itching to move, was the first to give Sev a glance before looking down at their technician. Hunter, stoic and calm as ever said nothing but stood, straightening his back. Sergeant Sevchenko took a knee though one foot remained on the pilot's seat of his Varia fighter. He was the first to actually speak over their collective mics.

Anythin' from th' bridge, lad? Anythin' a' all?

Chatter about an inbound com signal and a derelict. Nothing about a launch...

Despite the fact that inertial compensators on a ship the size of the Anthelion were much more comprehensive than on a fighter, every member of the Fourth Flight felt the axial rotation and momentum shift as the frigate changed bearing. Though he kept silent about the fact, Archer knew that the Bandomeer system was rife with asteroid pockets, a risky proposition for a ship the size of their current home... or almost any ship larger than a light fighter. He breathed easily due to a sense of security from the spotlessly new ship but could not shake the distinct, if minor, feeling of unease. A second shift in the compensators served to calm the men that much more, Turning indicates avoidance. No alert means a natural cause. Sev sighing and smirking as he gazed through the small sliver of the hangar to the vacuum of cold space. He allowed himself, if only for the moment, to enjoy the feeling of their new ship in a way similar to Archer but understanding how fragile it really was. Hunter was... well, Hunter.

Ah, coming down from the top! He paused... Yes, sir. Copy that, opening a channel now. Each of the three men placed their hand to their headsets as the com crackled, broke, and crackled again. Finally audio directly from the bridge burst loud and clear to each of them.

”Sergeant Sevchenko. Get your men ready to act as a boarding party with the shuttle, and gear yourselves for potential trouble.” Almost as one all three men had thrown themselves from the wings of their fighters, moving quickly to the equipment rack. Sev was the first to arrive and, grasping his squad's rifles, hefted them lightly over the intervening distance to Archer and Hunter in turn. “...extra cautious here, sergeant, so expect Lieutenant Vossk and his flight to accompany you in their fighters as an escort. Understood?”

Aye, Captain. Order received loud an' clear. Movin' tae th' shuttle fer boardin' op.

Reaching up as one once more each soldier returned their headsets to the closed circuit, everyone except Sev, as the XO's voice broke over the hangar's loudspeakers. As the CO for this op he would need a direct line to both his squad and the control center of the Anthelion for orders. He did sigh loudly, however, as Archer slammed a fresh clip into his SM82, ripping the cocking lever back with his patent enthusiasm.

Now this is nostalgia. Flying isn't bad but a good ole boarding, now that gets the good ole blood pumping. Good ole Seven style.

Hunter, who had just finished sliding the final tube of 00 buck into his underslung shotgun gave a minuscule smirk and shook his head, sliding his rifle sling over his shoulder and stepping away from the rack.

None of us are that “ole”, Archie.

Oh lighten up, we're all excited... inwardly at least. With a chuckle he knew that was the truth on some level for each of them.

Sev, who had finished checking his gear and sliding his rifle to the ready, stepped toward them and nodded giving his fist a single strong pump. The others mirrored the gesture and, in turning, fell into formation as the sergeant led the way across the hangar to a stair up to the shuttle racks.

As their footfalls clanked across the metallic walkways Hunter, who had a particular love of heights, looked down to where the other pilots were scrambling to their fighters, the pristine weapons of war igniting their engines in perparation for launch. The echani was pleased to see that the other groups were quickly preparing, launch lights blazing, weapon racks singing across already well worn rails. Returning his eyes to the front he ducked as they climbed into the secondary access hatch of the shuttle that would be their charriot for this mission.

Each of the three men took their seats in silence as close to the fore as they could, the twin pilots quickly priming their shuttle for launch.

Alfren Jennings, who almost seemed to be left in the dust watched them go. He'd never been a front line fighter so he simply nodded, shaking his head as he saw them board the shuttle and moved over to the back of their hangar space where a bank of monitors glowed. Taking his seat in an uncomfortable chair he began typing in commands to each of the interlinked monitors as fast as his claws could move across the keys. Soon three feeds glowed to life, all pointed at the floor or ceiling.

SNARL system check; all green on this end.

Roger tha'. See yeh oan th' oth'r side, lad.

I wish you wouldn't say that.

He only says it to mess with you, Al.

The bothan chuckled over the coms though saying nothing in return. The playful banter was one method Archer and Alfren used to decrease the stress whereas Hunter and Sev both sat in contemplative silence. From the cockpit before them the copilot turned and looked back, flashing a thumbs up, one which each but Hunter returned.

“Main docking clamps release in three, two, one... mark.”

With a jarring shudder and resounding clack the shuttle separated from the docking rack and floated on its repulsion pockets out into the body of the hangar. The soldiers within couldn't see it but the fighters slowly and one by one rose and slipped out of the Anthelion by way of the main doors. Finally the shuttle tilted its nose toward the hangar door and accelerated, passing through them a moment later. Each man aboard shivered as the microgravity took hold, the inertial compensators quickly correcting it and returning it to standard. For several seconds the shuttle accelerated until it was cruising quickly along through the asteroids, Sev and company spotting their fighter escort every now and then through the plastisteel windows of the shuttlecraft. After another few seconds the copilot swiveled around in his chair and addressed them properly.

“Ok marines, you are inserting onto a derelict, the Screaming Star. We'll put you as close to the distress beacon in the superstructure as we can. From there do what you guys do best. I'll put the distress signal over your headsets, the brass is unsure about this one.”

The pilot gave a smile and swiveled back to address the controls once more. The first distress message played, a pile of gibberish and broken transmissions of which very few words were recognizable. That looped twice before the copilot switched it off. As the trio waited, breath significantly baited, they could not help but glance at each other or nervously check or recheck their equipment. Guessing that this was as good a time as any Sev sat straighter and addressed his comrades over the com.

Roight lads, breech and clear. By th' books. Check yer corn'rs, standard delta formation, Hunter ye're takin' point, keep tha' shotgun ready. Any hostile movement you shoot first, ah'll leave et tae yer judgment. Ah know ye enough tae trust yeh wit' tha'. The Echani nodded to the command as the copilot continued to punch controls.

A squeaking of static over their headsets announced the beginning of the distress signal and Sev stopped. As one they froze, Sev's stomach falling out, Archer's rising to his throat, and Hunter's seizing outright as they listened to the voice that the Sevens had heard only a month or so ago on Kuat. The sergeant's hand slid to his mouth, the ship name could be a coincidence but the voice could not and left little to doubt. Across from him as Archer pinched himself before pinching Hunter who pushed the airman away before the echani realized why. Each of them slowly looked at each other then back to Sev looking as though they had just heard the voice of the living force.

”This is independent ship, Exodus, acting as proxy beacon for damaged freighter Screaming Star. Request immediate assistance. Crew still aboard, power minimal, escape pods damaged. Grid Coordinates: O-7, Bandomeer. Exodus distress beacon on for homing.”

Clearing his throard Sev closed the link to the Anthelion and spoke directly to his squad, the tone more fitting for a Seven than a marine that was about to board a derelict; more excited.

Scratch tha'. Check yer targets carefully. Identify before neutralization unless they shoot a' yeh. Es tha' clear?

Hunter nodded.

Archer's voice was low, not even coming from the mic but whispered across the distance. As crystal... What the frell is she doing out here?

All three of the soldiers paused as the shuttle decelerated sharply.

Ah think we're aboot tae find oot.

“Ok boys, taking a single pass over the port hull before attaching. We're goin' in.”

Turning to look out the window the men saw the dark form of the Screaming Star's hull pass within several hundred meters, looming in the distance like a great asteroid from the surrounding pockets. The light they could see was intermittent, lit port holes dotted the ship, several breaches were lit by translucent shielding, and every now and again they could see bits from the glow of the friendly neighborhood star. The first pass by the pilot, in Sev's knowledge of standard procedure, was to locate a hard point to attach the shuttle to; as such the speed was cut as were the engines. Slowly they rotated around the form, spot lights scanning the hull back and forth, lighting pockets of caved bulkheads, charred impact points, and mangled steel as well as bits of debris and destroyed fighters blocking the beams. The sergeant identified several impact points that looked, to him, as though they would have been fatal to the starship on their own; and there was a multitude of them.

As the shuttle neared the “back” of the form and began to float around it Archer's eyes caught on something. Immediately he nudged Hunter who whispered over the coms.

Sev. The lights lit upon the form as he replied. Aye. Ah see et.

It was the Exodus indeed. She looked a little worse for wear, what with what looked like some recent patches and other repairs but there was no doubting it in the Sergeant's mind. That's Sam's all right. From the cockpit the soldiers heard the pilots muttering, motioning toward a bit of hull where the spotslights had stopped, on the opposite side of the derelict from the Exodus. The contact announcement to the Anthelion was heard throughout the shuttle.

“Command, entry point located. Commencing attachment. Soldiers, prep for green light.”

Roight lads, lock an' load.

Each of the three was up and ready in an instant, checking ammunition and their gear, moving to the back of the shuttle as the pilot maneuvered it into position with the rear entry hatch. The moment was tense as the three of them waited, rifles down but ready, for the shuttle to dock. A shudder and a loud clack signaled the connection and the inner door slid open, warning light changing from red to bright green. As the three of them stepped into the intervening space as the inner door sealed behind them.

This is not what I thought I'd be doing today. Archer said, hand tightening over the grip as the pressure equalized within the ante chamber.

Boarding yes, Sam... no.

The mission is unchanged. Get the survivors out and Sam along with them.

Sev grunted as his ears popped, his squad nodding or offering a “roger” in response. Pleased with the response he glanced up, noticing in his peripherals that the breach light had come on. Sighing he stepped back, pulling his rifle to his shoulder as Archer and Hunter moved to opposite sides of the door. Huffing in impatience he reached up and pulled the visor on for his SNARL down over his eyes, the other two doing the same.

Boarders ready. SNARLs transmittin', goin' radio silent.

With a gentle rush of air the exterior doors whooshed open and the trio were greeted by deep silence. There was no discernible activity from the wreck and the soldiers, each with rifles raised, stood on the verge of entering for several seconds before Hunter stepped foreword, thickly booted feet making merely a whisper on the metallic.

With his free hand he mimicked the others as he activated the night vision capabilities of the SNARL, the hallway lighting up on their screens with an eerie green glow. Only Archer's rifle gave off anything visible under their sights, a single green line lanced foreword in the darkness only visible under their infra-red night vision visors. Taking a breath the trio moved in, rifle barrels moving up, left, down, right into every dark nook and cranny as they followed the stoic echani. Hunter, who only had a blurry readout of the Screaming Star on his HUD moved slowly but confidently, pheromone sensor blipping and whirring as it identified the chemicals in the air.

They were his guide. He was his namesake, a hunter and a soldier, on the prowl for a young woman whom he could never bring himself to love with all his heart.

The trio stacked up on an intersection as Hunter held up a fist. One dark passage led straight then off to the left while another ran to the right. Each of them took a knee as they waited, Sev turning to point his rifle back at the dim light from the shuttle around a gentle corner. The echani checked and rechecked the readings on his HUD before deciding, motioning foreword with two fingers as the three stood and moved off again. As the trio passed the intersection Archer spin his barrel down the second hallway just in time to catch the glimpse of something vanishing into a side hallway. His breath froze. The sergeant, who noticed the action, spun in the same direction. However, Sev saw nothing so they could only pause before Sev patted the airman on the shoulder and they moved off after their point man.

As the they moved Hunter paused less and less, their stops at intersections becoming fewer and less frequent as the interior transitioned into passenger rooms that they were not about to check. They had the SNARL which was tracking fresh human pheromones in real time. They were fresh, not more than several hours old; that was enough for any of them. Every now and again there would be whispers of sub human or alien pheromones but nothing as potent as what they were following.

Finally they came to a final intersection, one pathway leading into darkness ahead while the second spur ran off to the left. Hunter stopped and help up his fist. Due to the light sensitive night-vision he could tell there was light down the left hallway, that was also where the pheromones were the thickest. Carefully he pointed the rifle around the corner, the high tech scope instantaneously compensating for the bright light and deciphering a large number of beings from the background glare. One was slighter than the others, the pheromone sensor pinged like crazy. Grunting Hunter slid the SNARL visor up and away from his face. Noticing him do so the others did the same. Stepping up behind Hunter in the darkness Sev gently rapped five times on his shoulder plate to which there came a pair of taps rapidfire in reply.

Six five?

Yes.

Nodding in the pitch black Sev dragged a circle over Hunter's shoulder with his rifle and tapped it. This signal being one to switch off their SNARL systems, to which each man did with a flick of his wrist on the back of the rifle housing, the Sergeant turning off his com in the process. Slowly Sev stood, moving to the edge of the wall... they had to get the attention of the survivors without getting shot in the process. As he paused he looked back into the darkness at Archer and Hunter trying to think up something that could alert them without...

Why didn't I think of it before?

Nodding he reached to his vest and a spare clip, deftly withdrawing a single bullet out of the box of seventy. Gently he threw it into the hallway, the brass cartridge clanging noisily on bulkhead. He only had to wait a moment before they would all be looking their way. Taking a deep breath...

Six five, report.

His voice was loud and almost surprising in the dark where they had been completely silent before. Waiting a few moments for her reply or telling the others what was going on he gave a large smile and stepped out from behind the wall, his rifle held at ease but ready. A moment later Archer and Hunter stepped out as well, Hunter holding his rifle similar to Sev's, Archer's propped over one shoulder with a cocky look on his face. They moved up the hallway several steps before stopping well short of Sam and the other survivors.

Well esn't thus jus' th' oddest circumstances. An here ah though' we'd no' cross paths again fer years a' least. Ets good tae see yeh again a' any rate.

His tone was casual and friendly as the other survivors regarded him with suspicion, more than one weapon still raised. The sergeant gave Sam a very warm smile but didn't move foreword to make any physical contact. Ah trust thus es et? Are there any more survivors?

“Slow down, slick, just who the hell are you anyway?” Smirking Sev looked at the man who spoke, a large epicanthrix with a blaster rifle still trained at his head.

Republic marine, Sergeant Sevchenko, we've come tae get yeh off thus heap.

I. Screaming Star

“Well?! Patch it through! Let’s hear it!”

“…ter Scream…dent ship Exod…the RMS Anth…moving in to a…lease respon…possibl…if able.”

“Thank the force! Open a channel!” Excitedly the Bothan turned almost seemed as if he was going to ignore them until, suddenly, he turned back. “Gareth, get another team together. Take some of the techs with you to see if you can’t get that door open.” Turning back to the comm., he nodded to the man there to try getting a reply back to whatever ship had hailed them.

Sam had been very quiet while the staticy signal had come through, trying to piece it out in her mind. The ship name she’d thought had been said sounded familiar…almost too familiar. Sev’s station? No way…that can’t be right. Still, she could have sworn. Shifting her Shutzhund around in her grip, she looked first from Bauth to Gareth and back again before glancing around the large room at the number of beings within. Only a handful of them looked to have any sort of combat training or be a guard of some kind, more than not seemed to be squints—tech officers, engineers (the ones who had made it out anyway), mostly those who seemed to be used in running the ship.

She sighed a bit and looked to Gareth again. The klatoonian didn’t seem pleased at the prospect but waved for Sam to follow him as he started through the milling crew as they either went about their business watching the declining readouts or tried to get the ship (or each other) patched up. “How much training did you get, brown shoe? “ Sam could only try not to glare at the man because of the derogatory term. They didn’t have time for arguing…

”Enough. Long past basics, if that’s what you’re getting at. I’ll be waiting at the door. Get your men ASAP. We don’t have much time.” She didn’t even wait for his reply as she broke off and headed for the blast doors, finding a fairly unoccupied section of wall. Half watching the klatoonian go about gathering people, she looked in the four enclosed slots on her belt. Two incendiary rounds, one smoke round, and one GIMPSE round…not much help, but still. Sighing, she took the single smoke round and loaded it into the underslung launcher with a slide and click. She’d just have to be careful with this round…save it until (if) they really needed it.

“S-sir!”

Sam, like most of the people in the room, looked up at the dismayed cry…the devaronian hurrying over to a man no older than 20. “Sir…I just noticed…another of the hatches has been breeched!”

I sure hope it’s the cavalry…

“Gareth, go get those men! Hurry up about it!”

“We need to stay here and protect…”

”Just do it! Who knows how long it’s been breeched by now…”

”It could be a boarding party from the military,” she said quietly to Gareth as he, and about nine others, came stalking up to her. Or, more appropriately, they came stalking up to the door that led to the rest of the ship.

“In either case we should be here.”

”I agree, but let’s wait in the hall outside. If someone’s coming we’ll have a better chance at hearing them or seeing them than we will in here. The hall can work in our favor if we set ourselves up properly, and if it’s marines we’re all better off.”

He seemed to consider the situation a moment before nodding just slightly. “So what’s the plan then?” The other men with him seemed to inch closer, making her feel mildly claustrophobic for a moment as she thought things over, counting the number of ‘squints’ versus those trained to wield weapons.

”Seven to four…okay, here’s the plan. Techs will stay in the very back, between us and the blast doors. Four armed will remain standing in front of them…spread out to the width of the hall. It isn’t that wide, so there shouldn’t be much space between you. Three others will kneel in front of them to fill the spaces, I’ll take point…I have a suspicion about this navy ship and if I’m right there are friends on the way.” I really, really, hope I’m right and not just having a case of wishful thinking. ”We only have a little while to wait before we have no other choice but to leave and try to get those men, though…so let’s hope that, friend or foe, whoever it is gets here fast.”

Gareth seemed hesitant about the idea, though whether it was because of the plan itself or because of having to leave at some point…she just wasn’t sure. It didn’t seem to matter, though, as he punched in the code for the blast doors, the twin sets (outer and inner) hissed open, followed by the regular bridge doors. The guard there nodded slightly to them as they passed through into the darkness of the hall outside, the doors (all of them) closing and locking behind them again and leaving only minimal light in the hallway.

About ten feet along it, Sam stopped them with a hand, took five more steps out, and took a knee. With a nod to Gareth, she kept an ear and an eye out for any sound or movement as the man got his men set up swiftly. After the initial shifting of gear and movement of bodies the hall fell deathly silent once more as she glanced down at her wrist for the time. For ages it seemed that the ship was still as death itself, only the Indian night noises…those ominous creeks and groans of the ailing ship…able to be heard. Every once in a while the barely audible sound of someone shifting around behind her had her tensing and listening harder for something she wasn’t sure was there, or would ever be there. If whoever it is is military, they’ll come here first…I know it. I just hope they’re military. Well, she only partially wanted them to be military. She certainly didn’t want to go to jail, but it was preferable, she supposed, to the alternative of pirates.

After about ten minutes of waiting, she glanced back to Gareth…he seemed to understand: they were out of time for waiting. As he started to move, however, Sam held up a fist swiftly to stop him. That same hand opened and paused beside her ear. Something had moved…was moving still. It was barely more than a whisper of material and gear and (she could have sworn) the very faintest hints of an actual tone of some kind…a pinging or…or…she couldn’t tell, it was far too quiet. My imagination maybe…can’t think of anything that would make that sound… How could she know it was the sound of a SNARL pinging into three people’s ears?

Slowly, gently, she pulled the shutzhund more tightly to her shoulder, one finger softly pressing the safety off before nudging the fire setting to burst. The quiet click was loud to her ears in the relative silence and heightened sense of anticipation, adrenaline coursing through her blood. With agonizing care, so as not to make a sound, Sam twisted her arm about in her rifle strap to keep it out of her way…and attached to her. Another moment crawled by excruciatingly slowly before something clattered and pinged loudly on the floor a few feet in front of her.

Grey eyes swept to the sound, her whole body tensing and ready to fire, spring away, or both…

A bulle—?

“Six five, report.”

She nearly jumped at the sudden voice from the shadows, her voice reacting before her mind caught up.

”Sir!?”

The confusion was evident (if only just slightly) in her voice, initially because of her immediate reaction…then because of whose voice it was. The men behind her had shifted, tensing…a feeling she didn’t need the force to sense any more than she needed to look behind her to see that they were pointing their weapons in the direction of the disembodied voice. Standing immediately, she lowered her weapon and turned to the others. ”Take it easy guys…the cavalry’s arrived.”

She was grinning even before he appeared around the corner, followed in short order by Hunter and Archer. Oh how she had to restrain herself from attacking each of them with hugs…it was not a simple task. ”If it isn’t my three favorite people in the galaxy!” Propping her rifle over her own shoulder, she closed the distance to Sev enough to reach out a hand and give him a solid pat atop the shoulder and a squeeze of her hand before withdrawing it and beaming at the other two. ”First off, I’d think you were getting used to meeting me under odd circumstances, secondly I was hoping it’d be less than years but yeah…I’m sure as hells glad it’s you fellas.” Glancing back over her shoulder at the group behind her, she chuckled a little and shook her head as she turned to ‘open up’ the space between Sev and the crew that was with her.

”Ah trust thus es et? Are there any more survivors?”

“Slow down, slick, just who the hell are you anyway?”

“Republic marine, Sergeant Sevchenko, we’ve come tae get ye off thus heap.”

”I did tell you the cavalry was here…and no…there’s more, maybe 20 or so, in the bridge behind those blast doors and there’s talk of more trapped in the engineering section. We were on the way to them when you boys popped up.” Glancing over at Hunter, she gave a quirky smile and a little chuckle. Considering who and what he was, there was little doubt he’d been the one to get them here…likely in record time, too, with those SNARL scopes. Shaking her head a bit and smiling, she waved Gareth forward. ”Sev, this is Gareth, head of security for the ship. Gareth, this is my CO…well…was my CO, anyway.”

As the klatoonian walked over, he eyed Sev’s bearing and outfitting before shifting his rifle over to one hand and extending out the other. Sam, however, was eying the time. “Good to have some help…this all of you or there others? I don’t wanna leave the bridge with so little protection…there’s no way of telling if the privateers that did this are still around or not.” Sam shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other and subconsciously rechecked her weapon before shifting the flight helmet just slightly. “Still, we’ve got to get our men out of engineering.”

”Soon as possible, too. Apparently this ship has a shelf life of 30 minutes before it goes rotten, and we’ve lost t--” Her words were cut off by a sudden trembling through the ship, her eyes going wide. ”I sure hope that isn't something new going wrong...”

---

II. Anthelion

The wreckage that floated about in space of small patrol craft and fighters, the haunting sight of the freighter hanging in space just barely outside of the planet’s gravity well, its running lights flickering dangerously, sections of the internal lights dim or out altogether…this was a sight Zharra had little love for, yet there it was. With a sigh, she felt the Anthelion’s forward motion cut, the hulking craft continuing its forward motion for a few meters before the pilots gave a short reverse thrust to slow and stop them. The buzzing of the crew had quieted a bit at the sight as they’d broken through the other side of the asteroids near to the planet itself.

For a long moment she remained still herself, one hand near the comm. she’d just been using, until the swift “Ayeaye, sir” of Lieutenant Vossk cut over the comm. to Tyros. The fur along her back prickled uncomfortably beneath her uniform as her own comm. crackled to life not a moment later. ”Very good, Sergeant.” With that done she had other things to attend to. With a snap of her fingers, the massive head of Roshgar swung in her direction, his ears perking forward at the sound he knew was meant for him just moments before he stepped forward from his post against the wall as Diana dropped to the deck at Zha’s feet. In four long strides he was at her side, blue eyes pinned to her intently. ”Mr. Sharish, put your men on alert…”

”Aye Captain.” For a moment he waited, having caught the near hesitation at the end of her comment and wondering if there was more coming. When nothing more was said immediately, he moved back to his post and went about his task. Zharra, on the other hand, was paying more attention to Tyros and Diana who were both asking her if they could go with the boarding party. For a moment she actually considered accepting both requests…but for very different reasons. Diana because she might actually be helpful in not only getting any closed doors open again, but also as a means of being her eyes and ears inside the damaged freighter. Tyros…well, it would be a way to get him out of her hair…

”No. Mr. Elrune, you should know better than to even ask that question. Your duty is here. Diana, as much as I’m certain you could be of use to them, not this time. Let the Sergeant and his men do their job.” From the corner of her eye she could see the fighters moving off through the wreckage, followed closely by the shuttle. ”Now, Mr. Elrune, if you would kindly put your ‘talents’ to use for the bulk of our crew and see if there are any threats out there…” she motioned with a hand to the vast blackness of space beyond the view-port and the ailing freighter that was now solidly in their view. ”I’m sure we would all be highly appreciative of any forewarning we could give the pilots and gunners of this hulking beauty. I, for one, would not like to be caught unawares in this asteroid field.” Her voice had been…fairly quiet…but there would be no getting around the fact that the reprimanding had been heard by those with keen enough hearing, or those who had been close enough.

“…I hear that…”

Those tipped back ears, pinned nearly flat as she scowled down at the Zeltron pilot below.

”Mr. Nevvan.”

He turned slowly, almost timidly, in his seat to look back and up at her and the first officer. “Aye, Captain?”

”Do have the good sense to keep quiet unless you have something important to say.”

“Aye, Captain…”

“Captain…I’m reading something on short range sensors…” Again those ears perked up and forward, eyes turning toward the woman sitting with her partner at the sensor suite. “I’d been getting an odd sort of energy flux since we neared the freighter, but for the longest time I thought it was just part of the ship’s sporadic energy readings…but it isn’t. It’s coming from the debris field. It…it almost looks like a fighter signature…if it were only using its life support system…”

That had Zharra moving…actually moving. ”Mr. Elrune, try to get a feel for anything actually alive out there in that field! Mr. Ryal, scan for any unusual signals or comm. chatter close by…specifically from that debris field.” Pausing beside the woman, Diana bounded over and clambered up onto the consol, peering down at it as the two officers and Zharra spoke swiftly to one another.

”Zharra, there’s another spike in that energy reading…” Three sets of eyes turned to look at what the Familiar was pointing to. They couldn’t know it from the sensor readings alone, but it was a transmission…non-vocal, short burst, and very simple…calling in something much worse. The readings on the sensor screens would jump again as something lit up out in the debris field only moments before three fresh, fairly large, signatures appeared on the sensors. Zharra didn’t even need to look out the viewport to know this meant trouble.

”Gunners bring to bear.”

“Aye ma’am.”

The sight of three well armed and armored (and obviously modified) corvettes did not please her at all…least of all with the fact that they’d nearly dropped in on all of them…somehow. ”How did they get so close?! The asteroids…” Sitting up on her hind legs atop the scanning console, Diana looked visibly startled, whiskers a bright yellow. She’d been nervous before, but now she was downright frightened with the prospect of a fight in such a bad position. After a moment she darted down the console and scampered after Zharra, clambering up one of the rails along the edge of the upper half of the bridge and along it to the captain’s station.

”They knew a clear path…they must have. Scramble the rest of the fighters and inform Mr. Vossk of the situation. Get us between them and that freighter, men; until our team is back we need to be able to act as a shield.” That tail twitched dangerously as she strode back to her position, though her voice was calm, cool…nearing cold…as she gave her orders. One ear twitched toward her first officer as the other twisted and turned, listening to the pickup of chatter around the bridge as people went to work swiftly.

“They’ve armed weapons, ma’am!”

“I’m reading multiple smaller signatures...likely fighters.”

Those eyes narrowed dangerously for a moment, the fur along her back and face bristling again as her mind worked swiftly to decide if they were all just going to posture, or if there was enough reason to fire first. If they came up along side of the freighter to try and protect it, however…that would leave them open for easy hits along the length of the hull…not something she wanted. ”Get a lock on the nearest corvette…”…we have men aboard that freighter. ”Mr. Ryal, inform Sgt. Sevchenko of the situation. Make that your next priority. Do we know who these ships belong to, yet?”

“I’m still trying to put a match through the database, ma’am.”

”I can help with that!” In a flash the glittery form of Diana had lept past Zharra before she could say a word and was scampering toward the man who’d spoken. The Farghul woman simply didn’t have the time to waste arguing as the ships grew closer to each other every moment.

Her voice lowered in volume as she turned just enough to gaze at Tyros seriously. ”Well, XO…my gut tells me to fire first, what does your Force say?” Turning her eyes away from him, she looked back at the scene unfolding before them, swiftly counting the number of fighters that had appeared. Fifteen in total…five from each. Well, that doesn’t leave a question now. We fire first…

Even as he waited in the calm silence that had overtaken the bridge for his Captain's answer to his question, Tyros was not blind to the scene of utter despair and chaos that now filled every screen on the bridge. He took the briefest of moments after his request to pan his eyes over the nearest one, a zoomed in image of the shattered hulk before them and its own "asteroid" belt. A belt that considered of shattered and twisted metal, of hunks of metal that had once been a fighter with a living being inside it, of the odd clump of rock that must have drifted free from the belt and gotten meshed in with the destruction before his eyes.

All he needed was that brief glance to burn the image into his mind forever, should he ever need to see it again. A handy trait which allowed him to turn his eyes back towards his straight faced Captain who was staring at him and Diana both, her mind...well, he didn't need to brush her surface to know that she was pondering their requests even now.

The silence that Tyros had felt between him and here was broken for a moment when Lieutenant Vossk's voice cut through to him, a confirmation in what Tyros felt was an upbeat tone, that they had received his order and were well on the way to performing it. Without letting his eyes leave Zharra's, Tyros clicked the comm once and gave a very solid "Very good Lieutenant. Continue as ordered," before clicking the comm off and waiting again.

Finally, after having to issue a command to their chief of security, Mr Roshghar, Zharra came to a conclusion regarding both their requests. As he greatly suspected even as he had asked it, the answer was a firm no to both of them, though the one she gave Diana seemed to be a bit more polite then the one she gave to him. No emotion played across his face however, his only response coming in the form of a nod and a very collected response, his tone as unfazed as he was. "Yes ma'am, I should know better." Turning back to face the main displays, he turned his head a little over his shoulder to glance at her again. "Yet I had to ask." There was no challenge in his tone and if she was as good as he believed her to be, she'd catch that he'd only asked because he believed it could have been beneficial.

Hopefully it wouldn't drive the wedge that had slowly been finding its way between them deeper either.

His ear perked at her following request, one that got him to turn his head again and nod in silent agreement to it. He ignored the extra emphasis on the word "talents" when she used it, though as she went on, the silent reprimand that was hiding just below the surface of her words was not lost on him. Maybe on any other day he'd have challenged that, turned to meet her dislike of his unique touch to the divine that she could not see with his utter faith in it....but he'd already brought that knife dangerously close to sever the trust between them. A trust that was stretched thin already. So he wouldn't question it, merely accept it as his penance for mistakes made and do what she asked....and with any luck, prove today that not all those with the Winds were as bad as she seemed to believe they were.

And with any luck...no, assistance from the Winds, begin to mend that trust between them into something that would not falter to any blade.

As he'd done thousands of times over the years, Tyros calmly started to drone some of the outside noise around him out. He pulled his presence into himself, found that center and balance that had always afforded him the greatest connection to the Winds...and then reached out. His eyes closed slowly as his senses suddenly expanded beyond just the calm and collected members of their bridge staff. He could feel the life, the essence of the hundreds on hundreds of crew members in the ship all around them, busying themselves with their various tasks and orders. Distantly, he could feel the pilots in the hangar, the collective readiness yet professional calm that they'd likely been chosen for. The tiny world of the bridge had suddenly become a city of life....and it brought a warmth to his heart that he had greatly missed.

But now was not the time. Tuning out the voices of the ship, Tyros directed his collective attention forward, to the remains of a ship that had likely had many voices before, like them. Now it had only a few....and though it was a fair distance from them still, Tyros could sense fear, determination, malice...the signs of two parties at war with each. One trying to escape...the other trying to conquer. And then there was that professional stance of trained soldiers heading into combat as Sev and his party entered Tyros's field, a stance that was soon coupled with jolt to the men that turned into an even sterner determination to accomplish their task. Had something changed to tighten their resolve? Something aboard the ship that had sparked an emotion burst in them....or someone.

Tyros didn't have any time to work through those details though as something else started to invade the space where his senses were most focused. A lingering sense that something was not right. And that something that presented danger was coming. And.....

The revelation came to him just as the woman at the sensors spoke up. As focused as he was, Tyros had not blacked out the background noise of the bridge, for very obvious reasons. And just as she noted that she'd been getting strange readings, Tyros felt it. A very very subtle presence, masked by the collective grouping that were gathered in the fallen ship. Someone out there was alive...and not inside that craft. He was moving even before Zharra turned to speak to him about searching for something alive out there, coming to stand behind the woman at the sensor station. Patting her on the shoulder to let her know he was there, he tapped the screen in front of her at a single point.

"Pan a camera to this angle, zoom and sharpen. There's someone there, as alive as you or me or the Captain is. I do believe that whoever is there is a scout, who's task is too...."

His voice trailed off as Diana suddenly made herself known above the chatter of the others, her voice clear and distinct from the bridge staff. ...spring the trap echoed in his mind as Tyros's eyes turned to her for a moment, then turned back to the screen and focused his senses once again. There it was again, the lingering presence of something greater coming...and like a silent alarm in his head, his danger sense suddenly clicked in. Just before three ships burst onto the scene before them, all three of them highly modified corvettes. And considering their angle of approach, they'd already had a safe vector from which to jump in from that would avoid any rather unpleasant dates with floating hunks of rock. Tyros's eyes flashed ever so slightly at the sight of them, then of their current position.

If they continued on their current path, the shattered hulk of the ships before them would be in their firing range.

Tyros's hand was to his comm even before the order was out, though he turned his eyes on Tieres to signal the man to handle the fighters still on board. His comm was still attuned to the Lieutenant Vossk's after all. "Lieutenant, we have three new enemy contacts, bearing five-six-three-nine. Corvette class, likely pirate in nature by the modifications. Bring your flight into run interference; keep them away from our ground team. Sensors also confirm the presence of fighters being launched, so be prepared to defend yourselves as well. Keep me informed if anything serious changes. Command out."

The bridge was alive now as the bridge crew snapped to life at the possibility of a threat, a scramble that was vastly avoided by the Captain's decision to be on alert upon entering the system. It only brought his respect for her up another level, even if it was a by the book tactic when coming into an unknown situation. Still, he'd not seen many that followed it for simple search and investigate runs like this. So the respect remained.

Even amongst the possibility of danger ahead, Tyros's face remained neutral, even more so as he once again brought his senses to their full strength and reached them out in the direction of the three corvettes bearing down on them. He barely had to graze them to feel the malice and wicked intent pouring out in droves from the ships, as well as what he believed to be a slight drip of shock. Whoever these people were, a fully armed frigate was not something they'd had expected to fall into their trap...but here it was. And the numbers game obviously gave them more courage then they should have had. Enough in fact that he could feel......

Zharra's voice broke through his trance, though he didn't break from it to turn to her. Instead, he kept his senses focused on the threat before them....and with a calm and smooth motion, Tyros lifted his arm to point at the corvette coming from their right. "It tells me to increase the shield strength on the starboard side. That ship is going to fire first."

The man at the station monitoring their shields simply stared at Tyros for a moment, caught between the urge to hear it from the Captain....or to simply act and see what the result was later. "But sir...all of them are powering weapons. There would be no way to tell which one would fire..."

"Please, increase the shield. That's an order."

The man opened his mouth to say something else, decided against it and turned back to his station and keyed in several commands. "Boosting shield strength by 25% for thirty seconds...I still don't see..." he was cut off as the starboard side ship suddenly fired a volley for blue and red bolts, ion cannons and normal ship lasers firing in combination. The volley hit against their side, sparked against the shield...and faded into nothing. The man sat silence, his mouth open in a bit of surprise and awe....and quickly he went back to being the professional soldier that he was trained to be. "Shields holding. Awaiting further orders, Captain. Lieutenant Commander."

With a nod, Tyros turned his head to Zharra and gave her a stern nod. "That is what my Force told me. Now it tells me that we should return the favor. I'll undertake the task of keeping my Force attuned to catch any surprises our guests may try to throw our way in the meantime. Let's show them who's got the sharper claws, shall we?"

Tieres' finger danced across the surface of his computer's interface. Scan the debris for chatter, see if there was anyone out there that shouldn't have been. Simple enough, "Working on it, ma'am."

As the system scanned, he tapped the stylus in his hand idly on the side of his thigh. A battle was coming. He could feel it down in the pit of his being. Only thing to find out would be how bad things got, and how far south things would go, if they did in fact go south.

There were light sounds of chatter in the rocks. Broken by static at first, but it was there. Tieres focused the scanner in on it as he heard the captain give another order.

Now he was to inform Vossk of the situation. "Yes Ma'am." He flipped a switch and opened a channel to speak to Vossk. "Commander Vossk, be advised: pirates coming out of the asteroids. Anthelion is moving to intercept. You are authorized to engage."

Message sent, he turned back to picking out the chatter he was picking up. But before he picked anything major up, he received another order.

Get word of the situation to Sevchenko.

"Yes Ma'am."

Fingers danced over panel again, as he kept an ear open for sounds of chatter. The comm on his head sent its signal to where it needed to go, and he spoke. "Sergeant, we've got pirates coming out of the asteroids and heading toward your current location. The Anthelion is moving to intercept. Haste is advised."

"Ma'am," he said, looking over his shoulder to Zharra. "Getting some of the chatter between the pirates. Muddled, though. Working on clearing it and continuing to monitor."

www.youtube.com/watch?v=b2_-T9DsETI museic

---

Stoically the tawny furred captain stood, eyes shifting along the bulks of the three corvettes that waited to harry them. She was sizing them up as swiftly as possible by what she could see as Anthelion moved in to cover the damaged frigate.

“…to increase the shield strength on the starboard side…”

That was all she needed to hear, her ears turning to listen to other chatter along the bridge. When an immediate affirmative wasn’t given by the ensign monitoring shields, she fixed her eyes on him and nodded. Still, his questioning earned the young man a sharp narrowing of her eyes…Tyros seemed to have things in hand, however, so she left it alone. She’d speak to the young ensign later.

”Gunners…target corvette, bearing one-fi…” Her words faltered a moment as the ship shuddered beneath their feet with the impact, but only for a moment. ”…One-fife-fower, full forward battery. Take it out.” She didn’t like the heavy weapon she saw at the forward of it. An ion cannon was never good news for any ship. Luckily a corvette that size could only provide so much power, so the two ion cannons likely constituted the majority of its weaponry. The crisp ‘aye Ma’am’ that followed had her nodding once in return as Anthelion rocked with the return a moment later.

Around them, through the view port, specks of engine lights added color to the scene as the fighters appeared from below the hulking frigate. Finally she glanced back to Tyros and nodded once. ”Do so, commander.” There was a slight fluctuation in the artificial gravity while the pilots brought them around into as sharp an angle as possible to act as a wall between the freighter and the pirate corvettes, making the crew have to lean into the action just a bit before things returned to ‘normal.’ Of course, that sort of thing was normal…something that anyone who flew in space for any great duration of time had to grow accustomed to, but that didn’t mean it was always comfortable.

As they ‘slowly’ moved closer into position, the enemy vessels opened fire in earnest, the fighters with them streaking forward to meet them and their own wing of pilots. That’s right…pay attention to us now… ”Switch fire to port weapons batteries on One-fife-fower. Starboard-fore weapons to clear a path…and give me a reading on their shields.” They couldn’t be liking the ion cannons (not to mention the plethora of other cannons) that were hammering that first corvette. Just take down that first one and we hinder the other two…

”Found them! They’re from the outer rim territories…from Imperial space!”

The bright little voice, full of pride and concern, was easily caught by keen ears…the attached head turning to look at the glittering little droid before her eyes darted back to the view port. A possible Imperial trap. Damnation. A new wave of enemy fire peppered the side of her ship, absorbed by the shields both in, and out, of direct vision making several of the green members flinch or recoil slightly as they threatened to hit directly against the viewport.

“Shields holding at 99% Ma’am, though the ion cannons are beginning to….”

“…damage to corvette one-fife-fower. Reading power fluctuations from their…”

“Nearly into position Capt--”

“All flights have engaged the…”

”Keep us steady on course Mr. Nevvan…”

“…corvette has disengaged firing locks on us, Captain!”

That caught the majority of her attention, her tail twitching dangerously behind her as she looked over at the woman. She had a pretty good idea of why they had broken off targeting lock…For a moment her heart skipped half a beat before a cold anger etched its way through her veins. Oh no you don’t. I am not going to make things so easy for you while I have men aboard that ship.

”Shift point gun locks to that corvette immediately! Draw their attention back to us.”

Of course, things weren’t going to happen so easily.

The pirates may have been rash and overconfident, but they weren’t stupid…already they had begun to spread apart to gain superior angles on the single frigate…

The chaos around Tyros was but a small whistle in the back of his mind. His thoughts, his mind, were completely tasked into the Force, using that mystical power to guide the words that came from his mouth and the actions it told him to undertake. The conscious part of him, the part that heard the calls from the various personal at the stations, the thump thump of lasers against their shields that, for the moment, gently rocked the ship, to the hissing pound of their lasers firing back, was impressed at how well they were holding together. Many of the ship’s crew were experienced, the bridge crew itself made up of officers from other ships, but even the fresh from boot and the Academy personal were holding themselves together. The wonders a competent captain and the belief in them can work on greenhorns.

The shuddering of the ship were but a minor inconvenience to him, one he countered by using the Force to adhere his feet to the spot he was standing. A slight distraction but one he could afford to pay attention to, for it beat stumbling around as the ship rocked back and forth.

The rest of him stayed true to his word. Whenever her felt a flicker of warning from the Force, he let that warning guide him to speak which area of the ship to temporarily increase the shields to catch the incoming bolts and swat them aside as one would a mosquito bite. The advantage they had at the moment was that the ships were all forward of their bow, hence, they were all directly in front of the ship. This allowed them to pull power from their rear shields to reinforce their front and, by Tyros only powering portions of the shield for a few seconds, allowed the ship to retain its shield strength over the entire vessel for the most part. He knew that would not last, but it might give them the time to cripple or disable one or more of the enemy ships. Three to one were bad odds…for the corvettes facing fully armed military cruiser.

It became harder to focus on those incoming threats, however, as the fighters from either side made contact with one another, a nest of angry hornets doing battle with another. A flurry of emotions and false alarms flowed into his senses, but through his focus and years of practice, he was able to pick through the white noise and find the messages within. For a brief moment more, he kept at his work, protecting them from serious harm, then ultimately he weakened his intense focus towards predicting where shots were going to hit and focused it more on picking up less obvious dangers. With the ships now close enough to fire with abandon at the larger target, trying to predict all the shots would be a waste of time.

”I’ve done what I can to keep us working till this moment, now its time to change tactics. Boost the shields to double front, but watch for them wrapping around to the side. If at any moment they start to come towards out aft, balance out the shields again.”

The message from the gunnery station about the ion cannon he jumped on quickly. ”Steal power from the point defense guns and use them to reinforce the shields and our anti ship weaponry. It’s a risk, I know, but the fighters aren’t the threat we must address. Leave the fighters to the fighters, I believe our flights are capable of handing our enemies.

Target the corvettes with the main guns, then when their shields fall, lace them with the blue fire of ion cannons. Aim to cripple their engines and any weapons you can see. Many lives have been lost already today and I see no need to greatly add to them. Adding to that, we can’t interrogate the dead. Aim to destroy only if it’s the only possible alternative.”

The crew quickly worked to follow his orders, though they were careful to see if Zharra would countermand any of the commands he had given. He had found no fault with anything he had said, it was all well within logic and did not threaten their well being by doing so. The capturing of the corvettes crews would also be useful in determining if they were simply pirates or if this had been an Imperial trap, considering the ships had come from Imperial space. Zharra was likely thinking along the same lines, though he could only speculate that based on his experience of her. The ship shook under a the flurry of bolts, some of the bridge crew noticeably flinching when one plastered across the main viewport, as if they feared that bolt would make it past the shields and end them all.

Stepping to the nearest one, he placed a hand on the young man’s shoulder and gave him a short nod when the man looked at him. Fear, he knew, was a good thing to have. It allowed you to know the danger you faced and acknowledge it as such; so long as you could overcome it and not let it guide your actions, you would win. The man seemed to take comfort in this action and nodded back before going due fully back to his duty with a new aura of resolve around him. That almost made Tyros smile…and then he heard that one of the ships was breaking off. Turning his head swiftly to the gunners of the ship, Tyros swiftly pondered the possibilities to take. Zharra beat him to it, but he had an idea in mind.

”Focus on that corvette but keep firing as much as possible on the others as well. We have to make it look like we’re not focusing specifically on that vessel. If we do, the others might catch wind of what we are trying to protect and move to assist it. We need to make ourselves the biggest priority....we need to look like a bigger catch. Then it hit him.

“ Once the ship’s attention is on us, stop firing several of the lasers, make it look like their offline. If they think they can beat us, then maybe we can lure them closer in. And once they are there…we show them just how sharp our fangs really are. Captain…the call is yours.”

Stern was a good term for the appearance of the captain as she oversaw her command…stiff turning of her ears, dangerous twitching of her tail, posture hard and commanding, jaw set and pupils narrowed. On her consol she watched the various camera feeds from both sides of her ship to keep an eye on the three corvettes. ”They’re already fanned out, XO, and leave the point defense, our whole Starboard side battery is going to be useless as soon as we’re full into position, put them on standby power…reroute the extra from them…and I would prefer they not be given the chance to recuperate while we deal with the others, so you had better be damned sure that they’re out of the game, Elrune, we have our hands full enough. As long as one ship survives, I could care less about the other two.”

She paused, narrowing her eyes at the images on her consol. ”Diana, attempt to find any color variation that you believe should be noted between the three ships. Let’s see if they have a discernable leader.” Looking over at her first officer, she’d give him a hard look…not so much because of him, but the situation in general. ”Besides, we can’t hold three ships worth of pirates and keeping them all under control while waiting for reinforcements would be dangerous…especially if they are Imperial privateers.”

Diana had appeared in her vision, scampering along the railing in front of her and then bounding onto her terminal. In less than a moment the little droid was plugging herself into the feeds to see them for herself and analyze them more accurately. Zharra left her to it as the ship shuddered again from another salvo being fired at the corvettes. The dogfight outside was looking messy, but there wasn’t anything she could do about that now…the fighters from both sides were going to be at it until one side or the other won this, so she had to do her best to end it in their favor. Once the corvettes took enough damage the fighters would either be recalled for close protection or told to target the larger ship…and that meant that her men would have the upper hand. Until that time, though…

“In position, ma’am! Derelict to the starboard side full.”

”Good, Mr Nevvan, keep us as a shield but be prepared for evasive action.”

“Aye Ma’am.”

As her eyes swept the view port she watched an out of control fighter be obliterated by one of the point lasers, several pieces of debris slamming into the shields protecting the bridge area. Without a flinch she looked over at Tyros. One ear flicked around to listen to the shield readouts as she processed his words. ”No, we want them to gather in one place. Prioritize that ship full…if they move in to protect it we have an advantage in targeting, shield priority and not having to worry about being flanked. Plus we need that ship down as soon as possible.” The more of those ships they took down swiftly the larger the threat they would become automatically…that much she knew.

”Once the first ship is down we can see about your idea, OX." It wasn't a 'no.' "Our priority now is to keep them away from the derelict, not draw them toward it.” Again she paused, eying the visuals from the length of the Port side of Anthelion. Shaking her head she looked back up at the viewport. ”Though they may come after us anyway. If they do, Mr. Elrune, we will use your plan to close our own trap…but we can’t have those ion cannons hitting us at close range.”

”Tyros is right, Zharra! The one with the ion cannons should be kept intact!”

The little voice almost caught the Farghul by surprise, its owner had been silent for so long. Turning her attention back to the speckled FIDES, she furrowed her brow in question. ”The other two have similar markings and colors on very similar craft, but the third…it has the same symbol in a different color. The corvette is a newer model also…so it would be more expensive to get a hold of, and those ion cannons aren’t cheap either! They cross reference with Imperial military grade. I would bet that’s the lead ship. It has to be.”

Nodding, Zharra looked back to Tyros. ”Take it down, OX, but that’s our captive ship. We flay the others.”

The downside of being the second in command of a ship was that there was always one person ahead of you in terms of authority, who could overrule your directions, replace them with their own and unless there was a damn good reason to question them, those directions stuck.

It was a good thing that Zharra's directions were both logical and sound; there was no cause or reason to question her orders. Some more hot-headed seconds might have found offense at their orders being shut down so quickly, as if they were foolish to suggest them in the first place. Tyros was not hot head. He calmly took her orders in stride, balanced them out in his mind and weighed that they were more beneficial then dangerous. He felt no ill ire about her countermanding his orders; she was more experienced then him and this was her ship. He just did as he was ordered.

"You heard the Captain. Prepare to put the starboard weapons into standby mode as soon as the ship shifts into position. Once we're there, take all the power we can spare from those weapons, but leave enough that we can power them back up again at a moment's notice."

Glancing back to Zharra, he bowed his head in acknowledgement of her later order. A small part of him deep inside wanted to tell her that that order was a waste of breath; he knew very well to make sure any enemy was out of the fight before labeling them as a non-threat. However, that was just a small voice, a tiny piece of his past that still stirred within his cold mind. It was quickly silenced and his cold indifference took over again. Without even averting his gaze from the Captain, Tyros told the man operating the shield to boost the power on the left flank, exactly where, just in time to catch the full burst of the ion cannons from the attacking corvette.

Zharra's plan to locate and capture the lead pirate ship made sense, especially as she outlined her reasons for doing so after. Diana, as quick to answer to orders as any other member of the crew, set about that task. Tyros, on the other hand, had set about the task of redirecting the shields as needed, studying the enemy vessels for weak points they could exploit, assisting the gunners by directing their fire to where he felt the most distress from the enemy vessels. Sensors usually confirmed what he was feeling, like the distress in a section of the ship tying into the fact that the vessel's shields in that area were weaker then elsewhere. He had yet to be wrong so far, but his abilities hadn't allowed for them to gain an advantage either.

The words of Mr. Nevvan to indicate they were in position stirred him from his task, guiding his words instead to the appropriate gunnery and shield crews. "Power down the starboard guns and put their power into the guns we can bear on the enemy. Bring the power from the shields on that side to reinforce our portside shields. Sensor crews, I want you watching for any enemy surprises while we have our backsides exposed. Catch anything odd at all, bring the power back to the shields full."

Again his orders were put aside for better ones from the Captain and Tyros actually had to fight to not voice a protest. They were protecting the ship, certainty, but if the enemies brought their full force around under the realization that they were trying to protect the derelict, then there was a chance the enemy could get to it before their firepower laid waste to them. Well...I'll just have to make sure the enemy doesn't get that far. Now his mind had a task to focus on, it set about solving that task with the full force his mind could bear on it.

"Very well; I know none of you are deaf. Concentrate all firepower on that lead vessel. Those ion cannons will get through our shields soon enough, faster then their lasers or missiles. Let's not give them a chance. Full volley, fire for maximum effect. Concentrate on the engines and where their shield generator is located. Ready...."

Before he could give the order, Diana caught both him and Zharra by surprise with her sudden quirk of words. According to the droid, the ship he was about to target was the leaders ship, marked by a slightly different color scheme around the matching symbols all three vessels shared. What might have otherwise gone unnoticed by them was spotted by the detail analyzing of a droid. Brilliant. Zharra turned her eyes towards him and gave the easiest command to follow.

"Yes ma'am. Gunners, orders stand. Cripple that ship. Engines and shields; aim for their comm array as well, if you can make the shot without destroying more of the ship then is needed. Once it's disabled, switch fire patterns to eight-six-five, barrage their ships with ion fire to weaken the shields, then pound their engines and bridge into space scrap with the turbolasers. Tell the fighters to be careful as well; we don't want any friendly fire. Get to work; all weapons, full barrage now."

Not a moment longer after those words escaped his mouth, all the weapons on the portside of the ship fired in earnest, sending lancing bolts of blue and green into the smaller corvette, which was firing back with its own blue bolts of electrical energy. The other two corvette's had moved in to flank their leader, sending missiles and returning green bolts the frigate's way. It had become a battle to see which ship would overpower the other; unfortunately for the corvette's, the Anthelion had the upper hand, so long as her firepower picked apart each ship one by one.

And yet...in the back of his mind, Tyros felt a tingling sense of warning. Something was out of place, or about to be. The only thing he could do about it was be ready at a moment's notice to deal with whatever was causing that tingling. May the Winds warn him fast enough to prevent the worst.

The battle between the four ships was going to be a long one, she was sure. While the lead corvette’s shields were flickering dangerously, the Anthelion was still being pummeled hard. As the crew went about their business, hazel eyes surveyed the asteroid field with a pilot’s mindset. Tapping the tips of her claws against the consol she stood behind, the feline female filtered through possible events as she allowed her XO to carry out the orders she’d given. With little else to do beside wait and listen to the crew for anything that might require her immediate attention, she had turned her thoughts to strategy and watching the pirates for signs of their next moves.

“First corvette’s shields are down, sir! Weapons signatures are sporadic, also!”

The voice caught her attention above the others, though she seemed to pay it little attention. The leaders weren’t crippled yet…not until both the weapons and the engines were taken care of once and for all. However, the largest problem with this situation was being in the asteroid field. The area they were in was mildly devoid of them, but that wasn’t going to last long considering the planet orbiting below them. Some of them were inevitably going to shift with it, and that didn’t even take into consideration the fact that stray cannon fire may shift smaller asteroids into larger and set off a sort of chain reaction.

“Shields at eighty-five percent, Ma’am!”

“Corvette ion cannons offli…”

“…--ding power fluxuations in lead corvette’s engine signatures.”

Watching the lights flicker along the length of the lead corvette, Zharra’s eyes narrowed slightly, her ears pinning back slightly as she glared, almost challengingly, at the three pirate ships. Finally she turned her attention onto her first officer, even if she didn’t actually look at him. ”Mister Elrune, prepare the crew to follow your plan to the letter on a word’s notice. We’ll only get one shot at this and we’ll have to be swift in our actions, you understand?” With a flick of her tail she’d glance over to the man beside her with an almost imperious air about her, completely confident and focused.

The captain had dealt with enough hot-headed pirates to guess which way this was going to go, so it was better to be prepared…she just hoped that they didn’t try to pincer them. Either way her guess was that they were going to move in to attack and hopefully draw attention to themselves and harry the larger craft. ”If they fall for your trap, XO, I will follow up…Jost!” The Zeltron snapped to attention in his seat at the barked sound of his first name, his head twisting around swiftly and regarding Zharra with widened eyes.

“Captain?!”

”Prepare yourself, we may end up dancing today after all.”

There was a half moment of silence from both pilots before the lead nodded with a determined look on his face. “Aye, Ma’am.”

Nodding in return, the tawny female didn’t need the force to know how much she was asking from him, or how much confidence he had to have in her to understand her words and agree to them without question. Still, she could see the concern in the new, secondary, pilot. Hopefully she would earn some of his confidence today as well. Turning her eyes back to Tyros, she nodded once more…now it was on him to prepare the crew.