Eternal Sea (Space Pirates/IC)

[Imperialisium]

OOC

Iskandar V
0845 Local System Time
Persepolis
Zaydayya District

Iskandar V was a sick world, a dying world, a world of hyper-urban sprawl that had long strangled whatever natural biosphere that had existed. Rampant Human mining, gas extraction, and over five hundred years of corporate rule had reduced the planet into one giant factory. Churning out consumables owned by the planet's owners. Altarra Corp. One of dozens of Mega-Corporations. The planet, for the past one hundred and fifty years, three hundred since its wholesale purchase by the Altarra Corp, has served as its headquarters world. The sprawling villas of the upper management and executives existed in the high mountain ranges far across the murky brown polluted waters of the Kaleriyanna Sea. A small inland sea straddling the Western borders of the Zaydayya District. One of two-hundred and thirty districts making up the single mass of urban sprawl which one could call a city. Spreading like a concrete and steel tumor across one hundred and thirty thousand square kilometers of the surface of Iskandar V. Therein residing over one hundred and five million souls. Persepolis never slept as a result. Air traffic and space to ground traffic never truly ceased. While the masses of the city clogged the streets well into the night while the hum of ground cars worked like clockwork.

Persepolis was one of many worlds serving as a legacy to Mankind's excess. The greed of a virulent species from a Forgotten World. Cast among the stars like a metastasized cancer. The people, the citizens of this world, toiling for the enrichment of the few. Earning profits for Stockholders that may not even live among them on the same planet. Sure, other businesses existed on Iskandar V; thousands of them. But all taxes and tariffs went directly into the coffers of the Altarra Corp. The hope of many citizens of this world, should they seek to escape the dolorous corporate atmosphere of their home world, is to hopefully scrap together enough wages to earn an off world ticket.

The Zaydayya District, however, was what one could best describe as better off. To put it bluntly the towering skyscrapers and high rise galleries erupting from the dead soil rose like a artificial forest of pine trees. Punctuated by the massive bulk of arcologies. Environments unto themselves. Many rising over six hundred levels into the sky. High enough that orbital ships could dock directly with their upper landing umbilical's to offload the tonnage of material, food stuff, and freshwater needed to keep such massive structures populations and workforces alive.

Stepping softly along the dry, detritus strewn streets of the under-city, below the sterile walkways and gantries above the noxious ground car exhaust filled surface streets a young man, not even out of his teenage years, walked through the throngs of people. A battered pair of overhead headphones rested around his neck. The soft, rhythmic, beat of synth music played from them. The volume only high enough to improve his appearance as inconspicuous. His meandering steps, punctuated by the slight scuff marks of his lazy gait, brought him along the crowded streets to a set of acid rain damaged steps. Ascending casually the young man ran a fair hand through a wild mass of black hair. A pair of icy gray eyes roving over the strutting comings and goings of pedestrians. The dull roar of a ground truck trundling by with stacks of imported lumber for the artisan furniture shops on nearby Uryinokk Street. The laughter of a woman caught his attention as he glanced to the left, across the risen street, at a couple making their way in the opposite direction. The young man didn't stop. Instead moving to a small public lift. Pressing the 114th numeral the lift rose on industrial hydraulics above the raised street level to the fourteenth level access point of an Arcology. One that shared several high rise walkways and horizontal transit tubes with another arcology bearing the massive letters A L T A R R A in pearl blue across its flank. But while that arcology was one of open air galleries, glass windowed conference rooms, and floor upon floor of office space. Pumping in life to the heart of a soulless organization drained from the vitality of its legions of administrative staff.

The young man continued walking along a two hundred meter gallery. Freshly cleaned glass windows three meters high casting natural orange glow from the system's two suns onto him. This Arcology was an apartment block. All two hundred and fifteen floors housing eleven thousand Altarra Corp administrative and property maintenance staff. Eleven thousand people confined to uniform, sterile, mass produced residences. One could hardly guess who was more dead inside. The robot labour that swept the streets around the Altarra Corp headquarters or the staff that worked nine to five, five days a week, doing the same repetitive monotony over and over again.

Unit 14-673C. The young man racked his knuckle on the door, letting a small manila envelope slide to the floor, and not once did his pace slow. Instead he kept going. Turned the corner at the end of the gallery and took a second public lift up to the hundred and fifteenth level. A maintenance level. A man dressed in work overalls nodded to the young man. Opening a plain steel door. If one didn't know where to look, they wouldn't have noticed the faint outline of a side arm in the man's pocket. The warehouse was largely empty, safe for abandoned boxes and leftover office furniture stacked haphazardly against two walls. The sound of metal on metal brought the young man's attention to his right as two men in readied a pair of snub-nose submachineguns. Before him a blonde hair man was standing in the shadow of the windows. Cleaned windows, of course that was with the addition of a clear tinting solvent which obscured digital camera feeds, something that the members of this party had done days prior when they'd paid off a local logistic manager to gain access to the room.

"Elena has the key codes." said the young man. Moving over to the window sill.

"Good job, Silver." replied the blonde haired man that the young man knew as Jack Yaeger.

Sure enough, the crowds of first shift workers as local time neared 0900 hours, among them was Elena Brellach. Stepping out of Unit 14-673C and casually whisking up the manila envelope. Where, there in was the keycodes to access the private conference rooms and scheduling database for the entirety of the arcology. From which an appointing labeled simply B. Renard had been booked on the one hundred and sixty-sixth floor of the Altarra Corporate Headquarters arcology. Information gained through hours of hacking by the ships A.I. through nine separate corporation satellites. The ship in question you ask? Was twenty million miles away sitting in the outer fringes of a gas cloud making up the hazy rings of the sixth planet in the system.

Elena really had the hardest job, but one most suited to her skills, that being infiltration. She was to locate the conference room where a Corporate executive from the Rytheon Corp, a big time rival to Altarra and another Mega-Corporation to boot, had arranged to sell vital company secrets for massive personal profit. The man in question, the traitorous executive, was one Bartholomieu Renard. Head of Rytheon's Biological Warfare Research Division. Why Renard was turncoat on his own company and potentially face a death sentence at the hands of Rytheon? One could guess. None here particularly cared either. That wasn't for them to know, instead, it was the thirty million Universal Denomination contract clandestinely agreed between Rytheon and the crew of the ship hiding out on a nearby planet's gas cloud rings that truly was relevant. The only stipulation? Renard be handed over alive to Rytheon.

Rings of Iskandar VI
Midnight Sorrow
CIC

Standing around a circular holo-field showing the three dimensional, full colour, real time display of the arcologies and surrounding streets where the young Silver was located; was a woman of striking features. Her Navy blue officers uniform bore its facings in silver and gold thread. Her epaulettes still kept pristine despite the age of the uniform. Their gold hairs swaying with every slight movement. Her eyes, under a black leather tricorne hat adorned by a simple purple feather in its cockade, remained transfixed on the live scene below. Beside her, an equally attractive human specimen of the female sex, yet one that shimmered with the realization that she was not a woman but a hologram rather than an actual flesh and blood person. Turned its non-corporeal head to the woman in the livery of a Navy officer.

"Was it wise to send the new Cabin boy down there, Captain?" Its voice held a slight accent that none of the crew could ever quite place. One that matched the Captain on occasion in private. The Captain kept her eyes transfixed on the imagery below. Gleaned from well placed feeds and disposable optical drones. The miniature shape of a Tigercat coasted into view as it banked casually with some air traffic. The Captain pressed a rune on the holo-field and the view switched to a live cockpit feed from the Tigercat.

The bio-data of the Sorrow's CAG scrolled into existence beside the live three dimensional feed. She was seeing what he was seeing from his ships optical displays. The Captain pressed another rune and the feed switched to the interior compartment of a craft bearing twenty minute seemingly loading up for battle. The bio feeds of every man scrolled into view before that too was dashed away by a first person view from that very crafts cockpit. Turning a brass knob the holofield swam back to its zoomed out, eagle eyed view of the scene unfolding below.

Elena had picked up the key codes. The insertion team was casually circling as inconspicuously as possible in the increasing air traffic. The Tigercat prowling nearby. All craft utilized by the crew had received new paint schemes to help them seem inconspicuous. The insertion team's was dressed to look like a salvaged second-hand transport vehicle. The Tigercat was adorned with the livery of a faux security company thought up a week prior and registered in the Iskandar database by Elena. All elaborate covers all around. All for a prize worth thirty million.

"The boy seemed eager to please." replied the woman in officers livery.

Nine Days Prior
Moons of Quinto Minora

"Twenty million." said a portly man in a brown duster jacket. The abandoned mining outpost where they had chosen to meet yawned with sombre winds.

"Forty million, Kaspersky, you know what your client asks isn't cheap." replied the woman whom nine days later would be standing next to a holo-field in a star ship hiding out in a gas cloud orbiting the sixth planet of a star system forty-six light years away. "Twenty-five," replied the man before her. His balding head forming twin gashes in his hairline. A middle man for illicit dealings best kept off the books. A sleezy, scummy, birthed from the dregs of some backwater shithole of a world human being. A valuable contact in the livelihood of the Galaxy's outlaws. Especially, for dealings regarding murder, kidnapping, and trafficking of sentient beings.

"Thirty-five." replied the woman with her tricorne hat cocking slightly to the side with the movement of her head. She continued inquisitively, her words both pleasing to the ears, yet oh' so sharp. Like a knife hidden in silk cloth. "I wonder what client has you this spun up Kaspersky? You seem nervous."

The man was nervous. A bead of sweat trickled down his brow. "Well, my client was very wordy on the range of payment. Best I can do is thirty million. Take it or leave it Zamyra."

Zamyra smiled, "Only if you tell me who the client is or I walk."

"Come on Dra-." His voice stopped as she continued smirking. The man sighed deeply, "Rytheon."

"Mega-corp needing me of all people to kidnap someone. Thought they got their rocks off stealing people's lives already," mused Zamyra.

"One of their top level execs, went rogue, stole a whole bunch of prototype shit. Deleted their back ups even. Imagine that right?" The man chuckled uncomfortably. Clearly unnerved by Zamyra's presence.

"Very interesting. Any special conditions?"

"He needs to be alive." said Kaspersky as he handed over a small data chip. "All the information you need on the client is there. Rytheon tracked him to Iskandar V but wants nothing leading back to them. This has to be clean Zamyra. They won't tolerate loose ends."

"When have their kind ever been tolerable." A rhetorical question. She straightened her head as her voice took a slightly sharper edge, "Insurance?"

Kaspersky nodded and handed over a small black box. "UD Cube's got ten million in there. Coded to be accepted anywhere this side of the Sector. Other twenty million upon successful delivery of the target."

Zamyra nodded and turned away. Walking nonchalantly away from Kaspersky. The latters brown duster ruffling with his arms cupping his mouth quickly, "We got a deal?!"

Zamyra didn't pause and merely hollered a plain, "Yes."

[Skaldia]

Iskandar V
0845 Local System Time
Persepolis
Zaydayya District

With the messenger boy gone and Elena with him to complete her tasking of infiltrating the arco, Jack turned to the two men he was with. Ajax and Ares were the premier Helldivers, both of them but continued iterations of the first two to earn their monikers. It was a commonly held belief among the crew of the Midnight’s Sorrow that each Helldiver was the first of their name. In reality, many had held their titles in the decades that Jack Jaeger had been aboard the dreadnought. At first, he had intended to use them in service to the Imperial Intelligence Service. They would have been his weapon of choice in destroying either the ship or it’s command staff.

Now, they served as his right hand, or more accurately, his fist. Not only that, but they were fanatical in their devotion to both Captain and ship with Jack serving as a paternal figure to them as he trained them in the arts of war and deceit. Despite their training, the original Helldivers had been killed or suffered accidental deaths in the course of their service. Ajax was the third to bear that name while Ares was the second. Regardless, they were just as deadly as the originals, if not more so. Jack learned from the mistakes he made. Those in the life of one such as he tried their best to make as few errors as possible. It took just one to get you killed.

“It is time, Silver, you learn something about me.” Jack declared as he turned to the young man. Silver met Jack’s unblinking stare passively, unemotional. It irritated Jack. He was used to being able to intimidate and extract information from people with but a look. The fact that Silver was Zamyra’s cabin boy made it all too clear that part of Silver’s role in being in Jack’s observation team was to observe Jack. It was an insult to Jack’s honor. If she only knew all that he had sacrificed to follow her, she would not be feeling the need to keep an eye on him. But, on the other hand, he could not fault her for assessing the need to keep tabs on Jack. Not after knowing how.. excessive Jack could be. As if that was his fault. So what if he enjoyed his work a little too much? What was the point of being a part of such a feared crew and ship if sometimes one didn’t exhibit a little bit of terror?

It was a lesson Jack was determined to teach Silver.

Turning to his two trusted subordinates, Jack nodded to Ajax who unfolded his massive arms, letting his submachine gun swing from it’s strap as he walked behind a precarious stack of crates.”Ares, keep an eye on the conference room if you please.”

“Yessir.” Ares quipped, stepping towards the glass and using a modified scope on a tripod to maintain visual contact with the conference room. It was imperative that they kept eyeballs on the target in question. They could not fuck up this operation. Far too much money was riding on this job, but Jack trusted his men implicitly. Far more than he could the other members of the crew sadly. While he knew he could rely on Samuel and Ezra to complete their tasks to the best of their abilities, they were in the minority unfortunately.

Ajax returned dragging a chair around the crates and propping it up in front of Jack. The chair was not empty, occupied as it were by the skeletal figure of Rafferty, the same manager that had been so happy to take Jack’s talents in exchange for the use of the maintenance level in the demi-arco. He wasn’t looking so happy now, mouth taped shut with adhesive, eyes wide with terror as he glanced imploringly from both Silver to Jack and back again. He was to be disappointed in what he found, both men giving nothing away in their stares. He mumbled something behind the tape but Jack was not listening. He was paying attention to how Silver was responding. Finding the young man remaining as still as stone, he was becoming quickly infuriated by his inability to get beneath the man’s skin. Darkly, he was beginning to think of ways for Silver to meet an accident before they made it back to the ship. But no, couldn’t kill the Captain’s new darling, could he!

Taking a deep inhale through his nose, he exhaled slowly and allowed himself to calm. It didn’t matter. Zamyra’s cabin boys had come and gone and it would be the same with this one in the end as well. He turned his attention to Rafferty and spent a moment studying him before a small gesture from Jaeger had Ajax reaching from behind Rafferty and jerking the tape roughly off of Rafferty’s mouth. Before the man could scream or shout for help, Jack was infront of the man, inches away as one finger was touching the lips of the man intimately. A small shush from Jack as he knelt in front of the chair. The finger traced away from Rafferty’s thin lips, tapping the small man’s chin and giving the guy a soft smile.

“There there, my friend. No worries. This was merely done to make sure you didn’t tell anyone about our little deal. You still have the money, yes?” A shaky nod in reply,” Good, good. No doubt your little girl is going to need the money, yes?” Another nod, this one a bit more confident as Rafferty’s demise seemed less and less certain.”Children are such a delight, are they not? Such bright spots in our life full of opportunity and possibility. Truth be told.” Jack rose to a standing position once more. He looked down at the man benevolently, a warm smile turning Jack’s face handsome.”I envy you.”

“Y-you’ll let me go?” Squeaked Rafferty. He seemed to need reassurance of such,”You can let me go! I won’t tell anyone, I swear!” Why did people like Rafferty ever feel the need to beg for such? Jack thought, bemused at the idea. It was one of those myriad follies exacerbated by the stink of mortality, the fear creating a pungent odor that had Jack’s face twisting in disgust and taking a step away from the bound figure in the chair.

“If I thought I could let you go, I would have done so. You would be gone, in some brothel like the one we took you from.” Jack’s tone had shifted from benign regard to feral indignation. This man was a father, a husband, a man on the up and coming. And how did he repay his good fortune? With drugs and adultery. It was sickening, almost enough to make Jack once more taste the breakfast he had enjoyed not an hour ago. Rafferty was lucky for all that he had in his life and did he realize that? Did he cherish his wife and darling daughter? No. He spent suborned currency on drugs and whores. If a man could sink so low, he would have no trouble sinking further and relaying all he knew to the authorities as soon as there was monetary incentive to do so.

“If I thought I could let you live, I would have done so.” Jack said almost in a whisper. The fear returned to Rafferty’s eyes with a vengeance. He opened his mouth to speak but an iron handed grip from Jack settled over Rafferty’s mouth. Jack jerked his head back and leaned over the man. Fury contorted Jack’s face into a rictus of red wrath, spittle hanging precariously from his bottom lip. When he spoke, each word was a chip of ice.”Normally, I’d kill you quick.” He unsheathed a knife from his belt and held the wicked edge up for Rafferty to appreciate all the more, light glinting from the edge of the blade. Rafferty tried to struggle but his bounds were tight and he continuously mumbled a shout behind Jack’s hand.

“But you, dear friend, deserve the very best from me.” A soft laugh from Jack, the spittle from his lip splashing on Rafferty’s shiny upraised forehead.”And let it not be said that I ever shirk from my duties.”

And Jack began to carve.

[Revlona]

Samuel Evasteor
Iskandar V
0845 Local Time

"Marines, check in," Samuel muttered into his helmets built in microphone, his eyes flicked over each of the 19 other men and women in the craft. Names and birth dates popped up in the top right of the helmets HUD as he looked over them, he was reviewing the soldiers under his command, an action he had done thousands, if not tens of thousands of times in his long military career, and an action he had done 3 times already in the past 45 minutes. It came with the pre battle nerves he guessed.

"Makarov here," Said one of the women, a distinct drawl to her voice that said common wasn't her first language. Her armor was a dark blood red, the helmet was rigid and slanted, and she held an RX-22, a lighter and smaller version of the RX-44 that the old man was using. She was as close to an XO as a pirate crew could get, she weilded the authority of an XO through the respect that the Marines, the elite and disciplined force of the boarding parties, showed her. So she was his XO in everything but name.

"Ratatouille rearing to go," Said a mans deep voice. Sam smiled as he recognized the mans voice, but not the call sign. It was a long established gag that the jokester Mathew Tannington did, he'd chose a new call sign before a mission, said it'd bring him good luck. The big man wore nearly same armor as Makarov, though his was painted a navy blue and the helmet was more rounded. He himself had a large RTX-200 in his hands, it was along the same lines as the RX-22 and 44 but was a light machine gun.

The others all chimed in with their callsigns, they had done this 3 times before, but they humored the old man when he did it for the fourth. They knew that it was his way of dispelling the pre-elephant nerves so they played along. They did so because no matter his age, Samuel was a master of his craft, he had been fighting and soldiering for nearly 300 years, and he knew a thing or two because he has seen a thing or two. A few grinned to themselves under their helmets because they knew what was coming next in their pre fight ritual, it was a favorite of the Marines because they all joined in. They all waited in silence, they knew it was coming and were ready.

It came first as a slow rumbling medley, "What shall we do with a drunken marine, what shall we do with a drunken marine, what shall we do with a drunken marine, early in the morning," A pale of laughter erupted as the crew heard their chiefs selection before they joined in. "Way hey and up she rises, way hey and up she rises, way hey and up she rises early in the morning" it was an impromptu sea shantie that everyone could enjoy together.

"Make him mop while its raining, make him mope while its raining, make him while its raining, early in the morning!" The shouted into their comms, a chuckle could be heard from the old man as they sang and that only served to make it grow in volume. "Way hey and up she rises, way hey and up she rises, way hey and up she rises early in the morning, We'll put him in a scape pod til he's sober, put him in a scape pod til he's sober, put him in a scape pod til he's sober, early in the morning!" They sang.

A grin creased the old mans face as they sang and he opened his mouth to lead the next chorus, "Way hey and up she rises, way hey and up she rises, way hey and up she rises early in the morning!", god this was the life, his comrades and him against the world, singing before a fight, if only Maratha could see it. Sam thought to himself, a tear sliding down his face as the next part of the song began. "Stick him in a brothel with no money, stick him in a brothel with no money, stick him in a brothel with no money, early in the morning!" She would love this he knew, god its been near one hundred and fifty years and he still missed her.

"Way hey and up she rises, way hey and up she rises, way hey and up she rises early in the morning!" they roared, knowing the end of the song to be nigh. "Put him in bed with the captains daughter, put him in bed with the captains daughter, put him in bed with the captains daughter, early in the morning!" They loved to sing, each marine added their voice, from Makarovs light and odd accent to Mathews deep somber tone. "Way hey and up she rises, way hey and up she rises, way hey and up she rises early in the morning!"

"Watch him get shot right out an airlock, watch him get shot right out an airlock, watch him get shot right out an airlock, early in the morning!!!!" They yelled, the climax of the song coming to soon for some of them as the smiled and laughed with those people beside them that might be dead within the next hour.

The old mans smile abated slightly as he and his crew were brought back into the moment, he allowed his eyes to close and he breathed a deep sigh. An audible click could be heard from within his helmet as he switched to a private channel with command, he ensured his voice was steady and serious when he said, "Silence Actual to command, ETA on HVTs location, over"

[Parcia]

Ezra Fischer
Iskandar V
0845 Local time
Drakon Actual


The Tigercat rumbled softly with some minor turbulence as it meandered around the archaeology were the operation took place. It was painted, much to his chagrin, in a livery belonging to some fictitious corp security company. At least the fake transponder his EW suit was putting out gave him the proper permits to tote such a heavy weapons load out. He took a moment to glance around the cockpit, checking panels and insuring his master arm was activated. While doing so, he made a call out over the radio.

"All birds Switchblade, how copy, over." One by one the 15 or so the pilots of the Ragtag CAG of the Sorrow checked in. After getting an affirm from all his pilots, he'd start giving orders. "Right, Drakon Actual to all birds Switchblade, break in to task groups and start covering SAM and EM sites, just like we briefed. Keep you're corners tight and don't break transponder protocol. These corpo shmucks don't have much in the way of an airforce, but those SAMs will spike all of us as soon as shit hits the fan, Over."

After getting a varied response, he felt somewhat secure in his assigned forces, though not entirely. For time being though, he kept flying his box formation in slow, lazy turns. Clicking over to flight radio, he spoke. "Drakon 1, Konrad you there, reform on my left echelon, over."

[Mercatus]

Konrad Kovár
Iskandar V
0845 Local Time

Any sound of turbulence was drowned out by the moderately loud and very powerful engines of Konrad's custom craft. The heavy fighter was recolored in what Konrad believed was "A real dumbass paint job", which was the official colors of the local Corporate security forces. The only thing that killed him more than that was having to fly in a formation. He was pissed when he figured out he was to work under the pay grade of a former navy pilot who was much younger than him. He didn't hate Ezra, he hated the order he brought. Konrad viewed Ezra as a highly competent pilot and a good leader to people who needed leaders, but flying in formation reminded him that he was no longer giving himself all of his orders. To Konrad, all of the other pilots besides Ezra and him were comparatively lousy, and didn't appreciate babysitting them. However, money was money, and it was damn good pay to add to his revenue gained from extortion and ransom. He couldn't complain about that. A fake transponder mounted on his ship was giving the all-clear that he was legally possessing the heavy armament mounted on his ship, as well as persuading anyone who happened to check his signature that he was indeed a security pilot. Konrad checked that his weapons were indeed armed, as well as checking internal status, engine status, and pulling the optic and infrared footage from all vectors of the vessel onto his HUD. The first thing one noticed about his cockpit was the absence of manual controls and any extensive panels or interface. All of it was connected neurally to his eyes and port in the back of his neck, letting him operate the machine at a much faster rate than with manual setups. When plugged in, a HUD filled Konrad's vision detailing hull integrity, scanner readouts, weapon status, and visual feed.

Konrad heard Ezra's orders to form up on his left, and he responded to him with a lax and non-formal mode of speech, "Will do, Ezra. Drakon 1 formin' up." Konrad proceeded to move his vessel to Ezra's ordered position, coming in front of the small group of 4 pilots that he commanded personally whenever the formation split. He radioed his subordinates on a non-corporate channel, "Alright Boys, listen up! Boss says we gotta cover them missile silos. Keep transponder protocol, and don't screw one mothafuckin' thing up! We all wanna get paid and please Lady Zamyra, ain't that right boys?" He was met with the same fervor that was in his voice by all four of the pilots. Konrad actually liked this bunch more than the other grunts. They could fly without need for orders and had his same enthusiasm when it came to earning money, the kind of outlaw Konrad respected. As well as that, they weren't total ass-kissers and fostered rather offensive humor, something Konrad enjoyed.

[Rodez]

Iskandar V
0900 Local System Time
Persepolis
Zaydayya District

Elena soon found herself in the main lobby of Altarra Corporation's monstrously large arcology. In practical terms the 'building' was more its own self-contained world, with offices, homes, parks and shops capable of supporting and entertaining tens of thousands of people indefinitely - so long as the raw materials churned out by the masses continued to flow into their umbilical cords.

And in practical terms the 'lobby' was really more of a courtyard, with an arch of nanocrete rising thousands of feet into the air to bifurcate the lower floors of the structure. In between its nearly imperceptible summit, which wasn't more than halfway up the total height of the arcology, each floor seemed to possess its own unique gallery, which projected out into the central void to showcase all manner of tastes in flora, from zen-style gardens to miniature jungle recreations. Some were more than large enough to support full-sized trees, between which birds of every conceivable species and color fluttered. Each of Altarra's many corporate departments seemed to have their own take on which pitiful imitation of nature could alleviate the soulless nature of their work the best. For her part, Elena preferred forests where you could wander for days and not see another soul. Growing up on New Calgary had given her high expectations in that regard.

Elena brought her gaze back to her immediate surroundings. Altarra's lobby was open to visitors, but she had to remind herself that she wasn't supposed to be one, dressed as she was in the black and white attire of an office drone in middle management. She had the keycodes to prove it too, thanks to the Midnight Sorrow.

Remember that 80% of spying is good bullshit. Chester had said that to her, not long after they had met on assignment in the Hegemony. She wondered briefly if her long-estranged husband was still breathing, or if his favored combination of hard liquor and Sagittarian speedball had finally killed him. She hoped, for his sake, that it had.

Elena made her way confidently to the row of lifts set into one wall of the lobby. She had done what she was about to do hundreds of times, and generally under harrier circumstances. She forced herself to breath normally and look like a bitch. Middle management. You're middle management. A security terminal in front was manned by a young man who gave off more of a 'bored intern' air than that of a proper security guard.

"Swipe please," he muttered.

She swiped. The keycode went into the terminal and was returned to her in a half-second. The intern/guard waved his hand half-hardheartedly without even making eye contact. She stepped into the lift along with a couple other similarly dressed employees.

'B. Renard,' the target, she knew to be on the 166th floor. But she also knew that Altarra's security escalated in seriousness as one ascended the tower; going straight up struck her as a gamble not worth taking. After a moment's hesitation she tapped the button marked '110' on the touchscreen.

The lift whirred to life and shot them up at the expeditious but not frightening speed of twenty miles an hour. As much as she might disdain the corporate lifestyle, even Elena had to admit that the view of the city through the glass tube was exhilarating. She felt for a brief moment like she was ascending into heaven, which in the literal sense of it, she was.

The office workers on the lift with her started chattering about office gossip. Elena tuned them out and turned her brain implant on, using the Sorrow's AI to comb through the arcology's open-source schedule. Party. I need a good party. There were literally thousands of events scheduled just for today - apparently Altarra's people liked to live busy lives.

Then she saw it. Bachelor Party - Preston DeMello. 117th floor, Room 1270B. That was perfect for her needs, and right on the way.

The lift deposited her two fleeting companions on the 92nd and then took her up to the 110th. She had to swipe again before stepping out into the hallway proper, this time under the attentive eye of a professional CorpSec guard. Though the keycode returned to her as before, the terminal then presented a biometric hand scanner.

Elena had expected this, though not necessarily so soon. She thanked God that Doc Warren was as skilled as he was with hand and fingerprint grafts as she placed the petite hand of a 'Kallista Yelenyuka' into the scanner. It hummed in satisfaction in a way that felt curiously self-important to her; then it beeped in the affirmative.

She was free. Sighing in the manner of a longtime employee subjected to needless security rigors, she made her way down the corridor and towards the opposite end of the floor. Maintenance staircase is here . . . no, here. The door was understandably unlocked; good hand grafts weren't easy to get, and they were just about the only way to fool a biometric scanner, so why bother throwing locks on maintenance doors after the fact? She wasn't high enough for security measures to become redundant.

Huffing with exertion, she pounded up one flight of stairs after the other. When she reached the 117th floor, she poked her out into the hallway and listened. At first she heard nothing. But then a sluggish wave of synth music washed over her like a drug - Mr. DeMello's bachelor party was still on after all.

The floor's layout seemed straightforward enough as she went from corridor to corridor, walking calmly. Every door seemed to be the residence of upper-middle manager types, the sort of Brahmins, in other words, who were certain to contract strippers for their bachelor parties.

Elena turned another corner and found what she was looking for: the music had escalated to a rhythmic pounding inside her head, while waves of blue-purple light danced up and down the walls. As a sense of mild euphoria rushed over her, she realized in the same instant that she must be high. Mr. DeMello was throwing quite the rager apparently, having released some narcotic or other into the air. Elena couldn't give herself time to get distracted, though. She had to find a girl. This was the type of party that the neighbors did not appreciate.

There were five doors in the hall, and the only open one seemed to pour forth the purple-blue light as if it were a strange demonic portal. Elena shuffled into the hell-door and nearly tripped over the slumped form of one the bachelors, who moaned aloud, uncomprehending. She found herself in a large living room that was packed to the walls with writhing bodies, all moving and intertwining and uncoiling with each other like a many-tentacled beast. There were girls . . . her vision blurred in and out as she tried to find a bathroom somewhere, anywhere.

She stepped aside to allow a couple to pass and found herself in a room with white tiles. There we go. Her sense of urgency grew with every second; she was seeing colors that shouldn't be there, colors she couldn't even describe. Whatever drug was in her system was getting to her.

A young woman sat in the corner, staring at the wall. Her barely-there outfit was sexy, slutty even. It was exactly the sort of insurance Elena had been looking for.

"Hey," Elena waved at her, a stupid, drug-induced grin breaking out on her face. "Hey girly, I need your clothes. Right now."

The woman locked eyes with her. "Wha-what? Why? What am I going to wear? Hahahaha."

"We can trade." Elena stumbled over. "I'm El-El-Elena. We can be friends, yeah? Friends can trade stuff."

They giggled at each other, which Elena took for agreement. Holy shit this is stupid. I need the Doc to renew my anti-drug implants. Hehehe.

In no time at all Elena was attired in the stripper's getup, and the stripper in the mundane office worker's garb. What the young woman didn't notice before the exchange was Elena's deft fingers slip into her pocket and extract a narrow metal tube. Diethylamine-Azelastine spray was a form of liquefied LSD synthesized with ingredients found in common nasal sprays, making it an easily deliverable drug that was liable to get the user high enough to leave the star system for hours on end. It was a fair assumption that most strippers carried some to calm their more aggressive customers, an assumption that in this case was correct.

Elena made her way out of the party towards that floor's lift section. She could feel her high dissipating the further away she got from DeMello's nightmarish rager, which came as a huge relief. Passersby tended to give her looks as she walked by in her scant outfit. Some were quizzical; other gazes clearly desired her. But none of the searching eyes were suspicious in any way, which was the point of the exercise.

She took the lift up to the 165th floor, where she was confronted with the same security regime as before, but this time with an optical scanner thrown in. Thankfully Doc Warren had done the same thing for her irises that he had done for her hands, so neither scanner saw anything but the very green eyes of 'Kallista Yelenyuka.'

For his part, all the guard saw was a stripper. He tried to subtly check her out, then looked away shyly when she met his gaze. "Somebody ordered some entertainment huh?"

Elena winked at him. "You know how it is up here."

He sighed. "Yeah. I do."

Once she was through security, she repeated her routine with the maintenance stairs and shortly found herself on the 166th floor. She was close to the finish line now, and hopefully past the most nerve-racking part of the job. Now to the conference room: either Renard was in there or he wasn't. If he was, she was golden. If he wasn't, she was completely fucked. Either way, that detail was out of her control now.

The Sorrow's schematic map of the floor took her left, then right, then right again. She found herself face-to-face with an armed guard hefting a submachine gun and standing abreast the twin doors of exotic wood that she knew opened up to the conference room.

The guard straightened up. "Hey, the boss didn't order no entertain-ugh!."

Elena closed the distance between them while he spoke and drove her knee hard into his crotch. She grabbed him by the hair while he was doubled over and delivered a punch directly to the face.

"Have some entertainment yourself," she whispered. In one motion, she brought the LSD spray up to the guard's bloody nose and pressed down on the nozzle. The guard stiffened momentarily, then went limp, carried off to whatever acid-fueled dreams were in store for him. Elena stepped through the doors.

Bartholimeu Renard sat at the head of a lengthy table, with three other similarly dressed executives gathered around him. She recognized him immediately from the mission file. The three others she did not recognize; nor had she planned on their presence. Meeting wasn't supposed to start for another fifteen minutes . . .

About thirty feet separated them. The executives stared at a random stripper; Elena stared back. No one moved or spoke for a long moment.

Renard's pale lips broke into a wide smile. "Hot damn!" he exclaimed. "I know you Altarra people like to entertain, but bringing a broad to a meeting is really something else!" He beckoned to her. "Come over here, darling. Sit right here."

Elena exhaled. She looked disoriented for a brief moment before recovering herself. Giving her very best 'sexy wink' at Renard, she tapped her ear twice, which would relay the signal that she was ready for exfil to the Marines, who were hopefully waiting in the skies somewhere nearby. Good God guys, please hurry.

She smiled at the men across the room. "I would be delighted," she purred.

[Parcia]

Ezra Fischer
Iskandar V
0845 Local time
Drakon Actual


He could sense his wingman's discomfort through the radio and put 2 and 2 together, seeing no other thing currently needing attending to, he switched over to a private channel, signalling for Konrad to do the same. "Alright, I'l be frank, I get that this whole...organized flying thing isn't what your used to. Your a solo act, I know that, hell they were instructing us at the academy on Heaven's Reach about you're tactics. I pulled you as my wingman because, quiet frankly I do not trust any one else in the CAG and while I don't know you per say, I know of you and am confident in the fact that you are arguably speaking the only other trained pilot in the unit."

A slight pause, "I didn't intend to form some rigid form of Orion Military fashion, but the Captain did hire me on to give the rag tag bunch of pilots on the Sorrow form of training and coordination. All I'm going to ask of you is that you help me do this so we can all get paid at the end of the day."

[Revlona]

Samuel Evasteor
Iskandar V
0905Local Time

The singing had stopped near 5 minutes before the green light had been sent to the Marine force by Elena. Only Sam and the other task force leaders would receive the signal so he tuned into the pilots frequency, "Go time, take us into the spot I pointed out before, the window that leads to the hallway outside the conference room." He said, his voice quiet and serious. "You got it,". The transport pitched to the left suddenly, causing several of the helmeted heads to snap towards sam, he could almost see the questions forming on their lips.

"Go time boys and girls, Alpha squad on my to secure the HVT and our Operative, Bravo squad you secure the hallway and keep our extract open." He said, his voice still serious and quiet, his eyes sweeping over his XO Makarov who would be the Bravo squad leader. "30 seconds buddy, gonna put you nice and tight against that window for what you need to do," The pilot said into his ear, a common Perseus drawl evident in his voice, evn over the radio.

The thirty seconds passed in five it seemed, the transport finished its movement and the side door of the craft shot open. They could see directly into the hallway from where they were, half a foot stood between the building and the craft, the man was a good pilot it seemed to do such a maneuver so quickly. "Go" Sam said, the one word seeing the closest Marine place a cylindrical object upon the window. It was about 3 inches diameter and stuck to the window easily, the marine pressed three buttons on the object and muttered into her mic as she backed away, "3...2...1..clear"

With a soft thump, the device exploded towards the window, shattering the glass and sending it flying into the hallway. "Go" Sam said again and the 10 marines closest to the window, Alpha squad, quick stepped into the building, pouring into the office space while Bravo squad covered from the craft. Sam was point man as he entered the room and suffered for it as he took a round to the shoulder from one of the executives who had pulled a small pistol. The round felt like nothing as the armor absorbed the low velocity hand gun round and it fell to the floor. A muffled crack could be heard as Sam put a round of 7.62x39 through the armed executives forehead, right in the sweet spot that assured he was dead before he hit the ground.

His gaze swept over the remaining four figures in the room, his HUD quickly identified each one and highlighted the friendly operative who was wearing basically nothing in green and the HVT in blue. The two other men in the room registered as red, this didn't just register for his HUD, but for the other squad members HUDs who all knew the orders he had given them before the mission began, no witnesses. A quick chorus of about a dozen suppressed gunshots was all it took and the other two executives joined their colleague on the floor, pooling in their own bodily fluids as they met the grim reaper.

Sam swept his gaze around the room one more time before lowering his weapon and magnifying his voice through the built in speakers on his suit, "Elena, nice outfit but we should go," as he said this he motioned to the open door and barely visible craft they would hopefully use to make a quick escape.

[Argonopolis]

Bertha Exter
Iskandar V
0845 Local Time

Bertha was running through her mental checklist for the umpteenth time when the old man began another roll call. When it was her turn she chimed in with "Skeleton Key", her callsign she retained from her Navy days. She had been with the Sorrow's marines for around ten years, so she was quite familiar with the Marine's pre-op routines and knew what was next. She joined in the song, belting out verses that filled her with a bit of nostalgia to her bootcamp days. When the song finally died down, she restarted her checklist. She checked that her powered armor was still charged, her submachine gun was loaded, and all her breaching charges were definitely not armed. She made sure there were no cracks in her jet black armor. Bertha then began opening and closing the fingers on her artificial arm, making sure it was operating with no input lag. She had done this check multiple times on the way over and while circling the site, but it always paid to be careful. With her slight paranoia satisfied she turned her attention to the commander, hoping the signal would quickly come in. Circling around doing nothing was something Bertha abhorred. She was about to restart her check again when the Commander gave the signal to begin the op.

As the craft began its short flight to the building, Bertha pulled out one of her smaller breaching charges and got into position by the door. Given that they were just punching through some regular glass and their operative had all the door codes, anybody could be doing this job, but she would rather eat a Sargesian sewer worm before letting someone take away one of her few guilty pleasures. When the door whooshed open she planted the charge onto the window and set it to blow in five seconds. She backed up and began counting down the time to breaching into the comms, "3...2...1..clear". The window shattered inwards and she followed the rest of Alpha team into the hallway. Commander Sam went in first and took a bullet to the shoulder, but he seemed to be fine and he quickly domed the armed suit. As her suit's HUD lit up the other four in the room, Bertha fired a quick two shots into the chest of the rightmost red-outlined suit and moved in with the rest of the team to secure the room. As two of the others made sure the witnesses were definitely dead, she took up a firing position on the left side of the doorway and waited for the asset to be properly secured for transport.

[Rodez]

Elena Brellach
Iskandar V
0910 Local System Time
Persepolis


Elena thanked God that she had barely sat down before the window shattered and the room exploded into a storm of oncoming Marines. She watched as Sam Evasteor, their commander, came through first. One of the execs pulled a pistol and hit him in the shoulder, though the old veteran's armor seemed to absorb the round easily enough. Sam put a round through the man's head and stepped back to allow the rest of his squad to fan out across the room. The other Marines took care of the extraneous executives with quick staccato bursts of gunfire.

"Elena, nice outfit but we should go," Sam said. Then the alarms went off, blaring their ear-piercing alerts in quick succession.

Elena looked down at herself and winced. "It was insurance," she explained, though she knew that stopping the jokes that were about to come her way would be a hopeless endeavor. "But yeah, we need to skedaddle."

She rushed over to Renard, who had watched the events of the last sixty seconds unfold with something between horror and disbelief. "Time go, friendo." She delivered a sharp punch to the throat, which brought him down. Then she stuffed the LSD tube up a nostril and hammered the nozzle again. Renard fell limp into her arms.

"Alright, good to go," she said, looking at Sam. "I might need a hand with this chucklefuck, though."

[Revlona]

Samuel Evasteor
Iskandar V
0911Local Time

"It was insurance," the scandalously dressed intelligence agent said as she looked down at herself. Under the helmet Sam was smiling, both at the humor he felt looking at Elena's discomfort and at an idea of the past. He knew that the old Sam, the long dead Sam, would have ogled her for what she was. But that was before Maratha had smacked him silly in the market place one day, he could still feel that slap near two decades later.

"I might need a hand with this chucklefuck, though." Elena said as she motioned at the now almost unconscious HVT. Sam immediately turned serious again and looked the target over quickly. It was definitely him, the sensors hadn't been wrong, but maybe the pictures they had been provided were outdated, otherwise the pictures let you lose a lot of poundage in the belly and cheeks. With his rifle slung across his chest using the magnetic locks the armor had built into it, he walked over to the man and without much effort, lifted him over one shoulder.

A three round burst of suppressed gunfire could be heard over the alarms from the hallway, "Report," he said into his mic. Makarovs voice immediately could be heard as she explained, "Security guard came running to see what was wrong, he's been handled sir," a quick affirmative from Sam answered her before he turned to look at Elena.

"We need to move before things get hot," He then turned to leave the room with the HVT before something seemed to cross his mind, "Exter, make sure the other execs have no vitals, we don't want them waking up on us later" he said into his microphone without turning his head.

With this covered he strode into the hallway, not looking to see if his squad followed because he knew they would do their job, before stepping onto the craft and dropping the man onto the floor like a sack of rags. "Lets move it people, fall back for exfile" he called out.

[Imperialisium]

Iskandar V
0915 Local System Time
Persepolis
Zaydayya District

Even the best laid plans seldom survived contact with the enemy; or, so some ancient Terran General once said. The sirens blared as the life-signs periodically swept by the Arcologies internal bio-metric systems registered two high level executives suddenly drop dead. It took precisely fourteen seconds for the Arcologies acoustic recording devices in the hallway and on other floors to triangulate the sound of gunfire. While a more obvious, tried and true, method of determining something was amiss being the sight of a craft hovering just next to the building. Ramp lowered and a window smashed. The saving grace for buying a precious five minutes being the shards of glass had been blown inwards and thus hardly any fragments fell to the pedestrian dotted walkways below. As certainly the falling glass would have betrayed something was above them and raised the alarm quicker. Not that that mattered now.

Silver

Silver could only wince and frown in disgust at the sight of Jack's horrific, sadistic, and utterly unnecessary torture of the warehouse manager. Needless to say Rafferty would likely die today. Then he heard Ares mutter, "Oh...shit." Silver's curiosity got the better of him as he quickly moved to the window. Seeing in the distance the flowing masses of humanity begin to rippled and move away from the corporate arcology. CorpSec officers rushing from the arcology in pairs, then squads of four to eight as they began to usher the pedestrians back. They were soon joined by various armoured and armed security robots. Their sensors no doubt sweeping the crowd and surrounding area. One of which passed it's 'gaze' quickly across the neighboring residential arcology to rest upon Ares and Silver. The machine pointed and a pair of Human skulls rotated to where the machine was pointing. One of the officers grasping his mic and speaking rapidly into it.

Instinct took over and Silver rapidly began to back away and turn. Seconds later six rounds from a high velocity hand held railgun crashed through the arcology window. Barely missing Ares and shattering the glass like a cascade of frozen ice across the warehouse floor. They had to move. Silver was already heading to the door, Ares and Ajax didn't need an order to follow suit, while the crew man on watch in the outfit of a maintenance worker got what was going down by the gunshots. Falling in behind them.

Altarra Arcology Security Command Center

Everything had been quiet, according to plan, morning synth-coffee still giving off idle steam in mugs, as uniformly clothed security personnel looked at monitors, checked biometric data, ran sensor sweeps, and communicated with the various field personnel around the Arcology and elsewhere. Then the klaxon alarm went off and the young lanky man at console marked 73 in plain white lettering turned rapidly, "Gunshots and two fatalities over here!" An older man with course stubble on his chin rapidly moved over and looked at the information scrolling passed.

Unknown Craft Detected. Running Registration...

The Arcology's AI feminine voice chimed over the Command Center's audio speakers. The older man, clearly some type of watch commander, shouted, "Someone get a video feed!" A second later the image of a non-corporate craft was seen next to a shattered window over a hundred and fifty stories up. "Sir, SecChief wants to know what is going on?" said a portly woman from behind a raised console. The Watch Commander turned quickly, "Bring that ship down! Appraise Upper management of the situation. Lock this arcology down."

"We have a manifest. Inserted a few days ago." came the lanky man before the Watch Commander's voice as he pressed keys and adjusted nobs. Realization hit the Watch Commander. This was a kidnapping. "Where is Renard."

"He's being moved, biometrics say he's unconscious, he's on the criminal craft now!" replied the lanky man at the console.

"That craft has void capability. Mean's they got a ship nearby. Notify Starport Control and get me Captain Pelan, now!"

165th Floor

The pilot of the Sorrow's insertion team transport suddenly had a red flash on his sensor terminal. Laser Lock Registered. The pilot looked over as a SAM site rotated and fired. The pilot with air of craft neural links managed to barely swing and rotate the craft as the missile whizzed past. Circling in a wide arc around to them. His freshly regained cargo of Elena, the HVT, and the insertion team violently rocked as they were flung against the side of the craft. The ramp raising as the pilot gunned the throttle. Barely missing a small maintenance gantry as he swung to use an arcology as a shield. Popping chaff as he did so. The detonated of the trailing SAM missile being a short lived moment of relief as more lock-on's where being registered. The corporate arcology's AA was now active and systematically pinging for targets.

Orbit
Altarran Corporate Navy Ship: Iskaran Moon

The Iskaran Moon was a Predacious-Class Battlecruiser of the Altarran Corporate Navy. Three-point seven kilometers in length and bristling with a main battery only slightly smaller than main-line battleships of most first rate navies. It balanced speed and firepower. The bridge of the craft was alight with the usual rigidness of being what was essentially a corporate paramilitary vessel could be imagined as being. Sterile surfaces of screens, holo displays, sharp lighting, and relative lack of colouration in material. Its unmetal grey and chrome steel surfaces punctuated only by the lights of machinery and stenciled lettering of what certain things where.

A middle aged man with a brown mustached, peppered with grey, was looking idly out at ship manifests scrolling by a large screen display above the ships main holo-lith. His brown eyes under a small brow with short, cropped, greying brown hair looked bored. Another uneventful day it seemed as he watched the changing registry for the system's commercial and private traffic. That was when a Rating at the communication terminals suddenly stood up. As if unsure about remaining seated by what just flashed on his screen.

"What is it sailor?" spoke Pelan with a clipped accent of one heralding from the Star Kingdom of Orion's core worlds.

"Captain. Emergency dispatch from Command Center groundside."

"Put it up!"

The Rating pressed a key and the message scrolled across in plain green lettering on a blacked out background. Rogues had killed two employees and abducted a high value guest. They must not be allowed to leave the system. That last line was all Pelan needed to know as a datapacket was beamed to his ship. The holo-lith lighting up to display the rogue transport ship as it was seeking to escape planetary based AA defenses. Pelan clasped his hands behind his back, "Bring us on an intercept vector. Signal the defense squadron to form an intercept pattern. Signal Orbital Stations 1 and 2 launch their strike craft."

Midnight Sorrow
Command and Control, 0923 Local System Time

Zamyra had patiently watched Samuel's insertion, Bertha blowing out the glass, and the meeting up with Elena. Elena had done exceedingly well, tracking down the target in such a vast building without issue in less than half an hour, she clearly was a professional. Then it happened. The A.I. of the Sorrow next to her snapped straight and spoke rapidly, "They know. SAM sites tracking. Firewalls reinforcing with auxiliary security systems sweeping the system. Pulling out of their systems. Corporate void assets are moving in to intercept."

Zamyra watched the initial evasion of the transport ship. The firing of chaff. The dots of the Altarran Corporate voidships in orbit beginning to move as she spun the image to display the space around Iskandar V. They'd never make it out of orbit before being reduced to flaming wreckage! Zamyra opened a wide band to all of the Sorrow's pilots, "The Corp knows we're there. Cover the HVT and break for orbit towards the Sorrow."

"Orders, Captain?" said the Sorrow itself as the A.I. next to the tricorne hatted Captain once more diverted it's gaze towards her. Zamyra straightened her back and clasped both hands behind her back. "Make for interception of the Iskaran Moon. Perpendicular vector. Maximum burn."

The dull ionizing glow of the Sorrow's main engines suddenly blazed like a constellation of neutron stars as the mighty vessel swung elegantly in an arc. Rapidly accelerating to an appreciable fraction of the speed of light. Faster than a ship of its size rightfully should be going, faster than a ship of such mass and chassis should be able to attain in velocity, its maneuvering was almost like the old legends of Terran Sharks.

Zamyra left the Command and Control room to ascend a few steps to a stand before an ornate, gold, silver, and gem set wheel. Not unlike those of ancient Terran maritime craft in a bygone era lost to the sands of time. A pair of winged mermaids had been worked into chromed steel as they appeared to hold the wheel's central pillar upright. Zamyra looked at the wheel and then out, beyond the viewports, at the stars...like dust in the wind. Twinkling embers of brilliant glass in the all encompassing darkness. She could go to any one of them...

A low whirl of blue and yellow light as the ship's A.I. once more manifested beside Zamyra. "We are holding at 125 thousand miles per hour. Closing fast to the Iskaran Moon."

The lips on the right side of Zamyra's mouth rose in a smirk. Her brilliant, glassy, perfect orbs for eyes peering at the opaque illusion of the Sorrow's intelligence. "Run out the guns. Gunnery affirm target locks on enemy craft."

The Sorrow nodded as it silently ran millions of calculations using alghorithms thousands of lines long. It took four point six seconds for the A.I. to speak once more, "Target lock on the Moon. Two other Frigates, a Corvette, and twenty-three strike craft. Shall I fire once in effective range?"

Zamyra nodded an informal, yes.

Orbit
0929 Local System Time
Altarran Corporate Navy Ship: Iskaran Moon

The Iskaran Moon was following the course of the rogue transport when other enemy signatures began to appear nearby. More enemy craft had been identified. Not quite moving in formation with the transport craft, but definitely too coincidental, and it looked like Corporate Command had already thrown the dice in presuming them to be also in league with the perpetrators. Scum! Thought Pelan as he looked at the moving icons. "Once in effective firing range, launch missiles. Have strike craft make sure they don't make it to whatever ship is theirs," ordered Pelan calmly.

A warning klaxon blared and the ships Tactical Officer rushed over to a newly sweating Ensign. "What is it Lieutenant!" barked Pelan. How did any of these rogues get a target lock on them! The colour in Pelan's face drained as the holo-display of the strategic situation swung away to show a new signature moving rapidly towards them at attack speed. The incoming data betraying his eyes as telescopic satellites fed data directly into the Moon's internal processing core. The image materializing beside the strategic display showed a ship like no other. A ship that struck fear in the hearts of many voidsmen across half the Galaxy. It was legend. Myth. A Ghost Ship plying the void to prey on the unlucky. Crewed by the wicked damned! The Midnight Sorrow!

"Orders sir!" Pelan did not respond as a trickle of sweat formed on his brow. Running own the curvature of his nose and down to his moustache. "Orders, Sir!" came the Tactical Officer once more. His tone more firm and desperate than before. Still nothing from Pelan. The Tactical Officer swept in before the Captain, "Orders! Sir!" Pelan stammered.

The Tactical Officer rotated on his heel, "Gunnery fire at will!"

Thirty long range anti-ship missiles packing fifteen megaton warheads fired from the portside of the Iskaran Moon. Rocketing silently towards the rapidly approaching Sorrow. Thirty flashes in the void as each missile was struck by CWS from the Sorrow.

Midnight Sorrow
Bridge, 0935 Local System Time

"Incoming missile, thirty warheads, non-atomic." said the Sorrow.

"CWS." Spoke Zamyra calmly as the Sorrow didn't adjust course. The point defenses activating as the missiles came in their firing arcs. Quick rotary bursts wiping the thirty projectiles from existence. Zamyra held the wheel firm as she glanced at trajectory readings. Another minute ticked by and another salvo of missiles was incoming. Once more the Sorrow's point defenses picked them off. They were firing beyond the effective range of such weaponry. Allowing the Sorrow more than enough time to plot contingency arcs of defense across exposed hull likely to be hit.

"Ready portside broadside on my mark." said Zamyra with continued calm as she braced the wheel in her grip. At a time only she could have known, she violently spun the wheel and swept a hand over an orb like control device. Swinging the ship on it's X and Z access with practiced precision. The mighty prow of the Sorrow swinging sharply as over half the speed of light to come across the Iskaran Moon's projected course. Swinging the Sorrow in such a line that the Iskaran Moon would need to quickly roll to present it's main batteries effectively. At a distance of just five light seconds the Sorrow opened fire with its portside guns. A rolling tide of energy the heat of a small star interspersed with solid ballistic shot and the puffing chemical trails of missiles lancing forth. Smashing across the Iskaran Moon. It's shields popping up to absorb twenty energy blasts before they failed. The solid ballistic projectiles merely passed through the newly flung up FLAK sphere around the Battlecruiser. Twenty-six distinct detonations where scored across the side of the Iskaran Moon. The Battlecruiser beginning to accelerate its own engines in an repositioning vector.

"Enemy frigate's incoming. They'll be in rage within twenty seconds." voiced the Sorrow.

The Midnight Sorrow sailed past the Iskaran Moon and with rapid turning of its control wheel and orbs the ship yawned and rolled. The mighty warships dorsal guns rotating their cannons to fire in a fierce bracket barrage at the exposed engines of the wounded Battlescruiser. Missiles and shells blossoming in the void as both ships point defenses and flak assets opened up in a cosmic display of deadly shrapnel. The Iskaran Moon began to roll as two internal detonations crippled it's left engine pattern. Their miniature suns flickering violently as the Battlecruiser yawned to the right.

"Incoming fire from two frigates approaching from above the planet's pole." voiced the Sorrow as the information sprung up beside Zamyra.

[Parcia]

Iskandar V
0915 Local System Time
Persepolis
Zaydayya District
Ezra Fischer
Drakon Actual

For a split moment it seemed his copilot would answer him, but it seemed powers beyond their control decided the time for talking was over. "Warning, target lock." Running mostly on instinct, he jerked hard on his controls, burning hard left and flipping on his ECM suit while also switching to active sensors. "Konrad, stick to my ass, we got to cover the HVT. All birds Switchblade, switch to active and start hitting those SAM sights ASAP!"

A second target lock, missile launch warning, another bank combined with a dumping of flares. The IR missile streaked past and the Pila turret snapped on it, firing a burst of 30mm shells that tore the missile to bits. He throttled up and made a B-line for the HVT and trying to get it inside his fighters small yet potent ECM bubble to at least try to shield it from incoming missiles.

"Drakon-1, intercept any incoming void craft, I'm going to play goalie and swat any incoming munitions." Uncoupling his RCS's controller from it's limiter and sending a neural command to the chip in his head controlling his SmartBlood, The lumbering form of the Tigercat begin to take multiple high-G maneuvers to intercept the various incoming missiles as they streaked forward. The fighter would turn, orient, burn, snap off a few incoming shots at the nearest munition before repeating the process, the distinctive blue tracers of 30mm cannon shells and red beams of light streaking out to hit multiple targets as the Orion Military Issue fire controller began to autonomously control both the Pila turret, and the chin turret.

His biofeed would be anomalous, with increased blood flow and muscular contractions, a steady 98 bpm heart rate, and massively spike brain activity as the Ace pilot began to slip in to his Zone.


Below him, the 15 or so birds of switchblade would all break from their various patterns and pounce on the 24 SAM and 12 EM laser sites scattered around the arcology with a combination of ballistics, lasers, and even guided and unguided rocket strikes, with varying levels of success. In the first 40 seconds of the engagement, 4 craft sustained critical systems damage, with a further 2 being destroyed outright, either by pilot error or a luck shot by the gunners on the ground.

[Skaldia]

Iskandar V
0915 Local System Time
Persepolis
Zaydayya District

It was difficult to remove a man’s face, especially when the man in question was struggling so. But Jack did his best and, truth be told, this was not the first time he had done so. In the thirty minutes between starting his work and the glass shattering under high impact rounds, he had been able to get halfway finished. By that point, Rafferty was no longer struggling, blood loss and trauma having rendered him unconscious. He was alive but barely, kept only so by having not struggled harder than he had. There’d been a few close calls; removing flesh around the tear ducts was always difficult. But Jack had been able to peel away half the man’s face from the top up by the time Ares’ expletive and resultant gunfire had broken Jack’s concentration.

Jack cursed, stepping away from the bleeding form of Rafferty and letting go of his hair as he did so. It caused his head to fall, the flap of his face dangling just so to paint a macabre picture. Jack flicked the blood and thin viscera from the knife blade. On a second thought, he never much cared for this blade to begin with. After but a moment’s thought, he smiled at his victim.”Keep this.” He muttered. With a downward strike, he buried the blade to the hilt in the top of Rafferty’s head. The ragged fluttering of Rafferty’s breath halted, his body jerked once, and he was dead.

Jack turned to the men gathered around him. He patted his jacket. Sasha and Ruby, his personal revolvers were tucked securely there and within easy reach. He would have preferred the security and comfort of his armor, but they would do the weapons on him would do their utmost in protecting them. He reached up and tapped the back of his ear, once more activating his comms in time to hear that the target had been successfully acquired and the Marines were exfiltrating from the site. They would most likely have a Hell of a time to do so. It was time that Jack and his small team made it a bit more difficult from the corporate goons to stop them.

“This Talon Actual, OP has been compromised, moving to exfil, over.” Jack grunted through the radio ingrained into his earpiece. He had had his fun with the manager, now it was time to get off planet and count the talents. They just to hope they didn’t run into any trouble along the way. The exfil for the OP team was on the roof, several floors to go upside. With the Corps aware of the OP, they would lock down the elevators and try to contain them on this floor. Jack was uninterested in doing such. He was the last to leave the room and, as he did, he heard the splintering of more glass as jump packed equipped security crashed into the room. A tight smile of contrition broke Jack’s steel facade as the chair containing the corpse of Rafferty was knocked over as two Wojek security droids burst in.

Jack was already covering the exit for the rest of the team to get up and out. One fluid move and he was tossing a G1 jammer grenade while he took position outside the door. A whump and Jack was moving back into the room, the wojeks stunned for a moment as their systems spent precious seconds rebooting from the jamming. They didn’t have time as Jack’s revolvers were in his hands. Each Revolver was designed with specific targets in mind. Sasha fired 14mm OMAR specials, designed with an electromagnetic coil to expand outward upon contact with a target. It was particularly effective against machines. Ruby, on the other hand, was the brute firing 5.59x18mm HV rounds perfect for punching through armor. As the wojeks were coming out of their jam, Jack was already firing.

The wojek on the right took two rounds through it’s cranium and one in it’s chest. The wojek on the left was inverted, two in to it’s chassis and the other into it’s head. All six rounds were enough to knock the wojeks back and out of the window where they would plummet to the ground below. Jack didn’t wait. He was already moving out of the room, trying to catch up with his team as screams and the splintering of more glass could be heard as jump infantry was invading the floor from all sides. If the enemy were smart, they would do it from the floor below and above as well, effectively trapping Jack’s team. Catching up to Silver, he reached down to his belt. A whir and speedloaders were reloading the revolvers once more.

“Ares, take point.” Ares had the largest assortment of grenades on him, a mixed bag of stun and jamming grenades. They would be vital in getting them out of this mess.”Ajax, take rear.” Ajax, while equipped with a submachine gun, had also come with a flamethrower. While the flamethrower had only a small canister and thus was only good for a sustained fire of ten seconds, it would be more than enough to cover the retreat of the team. Jack just hoped they could get out of here before AA made extraction impossible. Contingency plans were in place, but they were contingencies for a reason. They were largely unpalatable but Jack would be damned if he died on this rock.

[Mercatus]

Iskandar V
0915 Local System Time
Persepolis
Zaydayya District
Ezra Fischer
Drakon Actual

For a split moment it seemed his copilot would answer him, but it seemed powers beyond their control decided the time for talking was over. "Warning, target lock." Running mostly on instinct, he jerked hard on his controls, burning hard left and flipping on his ECM suit while also switching to active sensors. "Konrad, stick to my ass, we got to cover the HVT. All birds Switchblade, switch to active and start hitting those SAM sights ASAP!"

A second target lock, missile launch warning, another bank combined with a dumping of flares. The IR missile streaked past and the Pila turret snapped on it, firing a burst of 30mm shells that tore the missile to bits. He throttled up and made a B-line for the HVT and trying to get it inside his fighters small yet potent ECM bubble to at least try to shield it from incoming missiles.

"Drakon-1, intercept any incoming void craft, I'm going to play goalie and swat any incoming munitions." Uncoupling his RCS's controller from it's limiter and sending a neural command to the chip in his head controlling his SmartBlood, The lumbering form of the Tigercat begin to take multiple high-G maneuvers to intercept the various incoming missiles as they streaked forward. The fighter would turn, orient, burn, snap off a few incoming shots at the nearest munition before repeating the process, the distinctive blue tracers of 30mm cannon shells and red beams of light streaking out to hit multiple targets as the Orion Military Issue fire controller began to autonomously control both the Pila turret, and the chin turret.

His biofeed would be anomalous, with increased blood flow and muscular contractions, a steady 98 bpm heart rate, and massively spike brain activity as the Ace pilot began to slip in to his Zone.


Below him, the 15 or so birds of switchblade would all break from their various patterns and pounce on the 24 SAM and 12 EM laser sites scattered around the arcology with a combination of ballistics, lasers, and even guided and unguided rocket strikes, with varying levels of success. In the first 40 seconds of the engagement, 4 craft sustained critical systems damage, with a further 2 being destroyed outright, either by pilot error or a luck shot by the gunners on the ground.

Ezra opened a private comm channel to speak to him, and Konrad was about to respond when suddenly shit hit the fan. His HUD flashed with warnings of a missile lock and Ezra was giving orders to all the other pilots. "Fuck! Alright, I'm stickin' close. First I gotta take care of this damn missile." he said over the comm as he veered around to the direction the missile had been fired from. He turned off his fake transponder, letting everyone in the air know that this was the famed and feared Konrad Kovár who they would be facing down, not some random schmuck who slapped a Jolly Roger on their ship and got a bird with a funny dye job. He labelled the missile the primary target on both his IR and Optical feed, and a red-lined box appeared on all of his camera and radar feeds, denoting the location of the missile. He activated his leadoff target for assisting in hitting moving objects, and his gimballed positron cannons moved to follow the leadoff target. With a single neural command, a burst of six shots, three from each cannon, erupted from the barrels of the powerful weapons. The violet streaks of anti-electrons raced to meet the missile, easily annihilating the ordnance. Konrad maneuvered his ship so it was taking the same route as Ezra. Suddenly, he was alerted to the presence of rapidly approaching security vessels when his radar display showed that hostile ships had just entered the atmosphere. "Ezra, I count 14 of them corporate security schmucks in ships of varying types and armament. I should be able to hold them off easily enough, but you need to watch your tail. Konrad out." he said to Ezra over a secure comm channel. He unveiled the racks of proximity detonating rockets, activating leadoff targets for all of the incoming ships. "Let's see how you like my home brew, I hear it's real damn strong." he said to himself as he prepared for the incoming vessels to be within range.

[Revlona]

Samuel Evasteor
Iskandar V
0916 Local Time

Samuel had just gotten himself secured into the transport when the alarms sounded and the craft pitched away from the building. Luckily, everyone was in the craft when it pitched and shut its door, though not everyone had been secured. One of which was the HVT, Samuel shot a hand out as the HVT went flying by him, managing to snag him just in time. He slammed the helpless man into the bay beside him and secured him with one hand. At the same time, the craft pitched again, bringing the transport to a level position long enough for those who hadn't been strapped in to quickly do so.

At the same time Sam heard his comms erupt as the CAG came under fire and the surveillance team was discovered. "Can't leave them to die.." Sam muttered to himself as a map of the building that the surveillance team were in came up on his HUD. He quickly picked a good extrac point and sent it to the pilot. "Swing around and give them about 45 seconds to get there, if they aren't there we will have to leave" Sam said into his comms to the pilot. The pilot didn't verbally respond but a quick succession of keys from his side and the aircraft swinging around let Sam know he heard him.

"Jaeger, I just sent you the extrac spot, it's one floor above you in a party room with a balcony, ETA 40 seconds, better fucking be there or we are leaving mate, over," he said into his comms, directing this message towards the surveillance team as he did. He then looked towards the rest of his team and said into the mic, "Get ready to provide covering fire, this is going to get hot!" As he said this, he realized that the time had already passed and they were now going into their descent, Sam reached out a hand and manually began to doors opening sequence. hefting his rifle as he ramp slowly began to lower and touch the balcony.

[Skaldia]

Iskandar V
0916 Local System Time
Persepolis
Zaydayya District

The fight down through the hallway had been brutal. Exactly as Jack had feared, jump infantry had invaded the floor that Talon Actual was on from all directions. It was not long before they had become pinned down at the center of the building inside what was essentially a storage shed on this maintenance level and enfilading fire from all sides was quickly turning the ferrocrete to dust. Jack cursed as a chunk of 'crete sliced a gash open across his cheek and he reloaded his revolvers once more. He was near out of rounds for them, he noticed as he checked the bandoleer disguised in his belt. Reluctantly, he holstered his revolvers and glanced around him to the men gathered around. Each one was wounded in some small way. Ajax had the worst of it. A close shot had removed his left ear completely, and the gleam of bone could be seen where the ear was supposed to be. Nothing that the Doc couldn't fix, he thought absently as he motioned to his man for the flamethrower.

As Ajax handed the flamethrower, Samuel's voiced piped up through Jack's commlink."Jaeger, I just sent you the extrac spot, it's one floor above you in a party room with a balcony, ETA 40 seconds, better fucking be there or we are leaving mate, over," Jack would have to talk to the man about using his name over the comms again. But he let it slide. Samuel had got them an out. They just had to get there somehow. Luckily, Jack was not adverse to a little improvisational demolition when he could get the chance. He doubled tapped his commlink. Immediately, a schematic of the demi-arco superimposed itself over his retina, enabling him to see the floor above him as if he could penetrate the floor with his eyes. The party room in question was twenty feet to their right, on the other side of the wall that Jack's party was currently hiding behind. Jack knew he had seconds left so he had to act quickly or else they were stuck on this rock."Copy that." He said over the link to Samuel.

"Give me all your grenades. Now!" Jack demanded as an unlucky jump trooper tried to go around the wall they were bunched behind and was rewarded with his head turning to a red mist from the submachine gun in Ares' hands. Before too long, Jack had an assemblage of all the grenades. Working quickly, humming an old tune he remembered from his days in the Imperial Marines, he stuffed them all in his jacket. For a moment he mourned the loss of such a prized jacket but let it go. He could always get another from that seedy merchant on Absalom. Next required a bit of finesse. Taking a knife, he delicately punctured the gas tank of the flamethrower and doused the jacket as much as he could in the sticky, orange liquid. When the material was good and soaked, he was prepared for what he was about to do. He tossed the now useless flamethrower and looked to his team."Let's do this." He gave a wild grin, unholstered one of his pistols and stood up. In one hand dangling the jacket dripping with a tarry substance and in the other his revolver."Get ready for a boom." He growled.

Talon boiled out of the storage shed firing as they went. Almost immediately Tocrist, the last member of their motley crew, was riddled with gunfire. As he toppled to the floor, the rest of the team was carving through the jump infantry. As this was happening, Jack was swinging the jacket through the air. After a moment he let loose, letting it fly through the air and smack against the roof. For a brief moment, it stuck before gravity started to pull it down. Jack didn't give it the opportunity to do such. He raised his revolver and, with the last shot in the gun, fired. The round hit the jacket and a bright explosion lit the floor. A massive groan was heard as the hole was made, part of the upper floor collapsing around the floor and making an excellent ramp for the team to escape up. Without a moment's wait, Talon Actual fled up the improvised ramp. Jack's aim had been unerring. The ramp came out right at the balcony. There, waiting for them, was the ship! But it was already starting to pull away. As Jack watched, it dodged another missile and Jack roared his defiance."You stay right the fuck there!"

Talon Actual charged towards the balcony as fast as their feet could carry them.

[Imperialisium]

Iskandar V
0916 Local System Time
Persepolis
Zaydayya District

Silver

Silver moved with the other members of Jack's team. Weaving and shooting along with the others. But he was not a trained killer, in fact, he'd never killed anyone in his life! But he made a good show of it despite being somewhat sure that his shots didn't actually hit anything. Chaos of the flight perhaps? What one could expect from someone as young as he? Silver moved with the others. Casting a brief glance at the fresh corpse of Tocrist as he was riddled with gunfire. Puffs of red erupting where he was struck followed by a single thud then nothing. Not even a post-death muscle twitch. Charging across to the awaiting transport. The outstretched hands of a pair of Marines from Sam's men to help them in.

Plink plink snap!

The ground puffed as gunfire ripped the ground around them. Some men fired potshots back at their pursuers. The pair of men at the ramp raised their own weapons. Firing past Talon in covering fire. Talon leapt and the transport bucked to the left. Silver was already making his way to jump onto the ramp after Jack. "Hgh!" One of Sam's men clamped armoured hands on Silver and pulled him in while the other slammed the ramp key beside him. The hydraulics hissing as the steel ramp rose to cast them in the dim light of the transport. The motion of which caused them all to shift. The pilot accelerating rapidly while keying to the CAG that they were breaking for orbit with the HVT.

"You alright kid?" said the Marine that had saved him from tumbling over one hundred and fifty stories to his death. Silver nodded as he swallowed quickly, "Yeah. Thanks."

"Don't mention it," as the power armoured figure hoisted Silver up to his feet. "Now strap in."

Silver didn't need to be told twice and found a seat near the open cockpit door to strap in. Not a moment to soon either as the pilot opened the throttle. The transport broke the sound barrier and kept on accelerating. The blackness of thermal shields descending over the pilots cockpit as holo-screens and ship computation equipment fed positional data to the man's neural link. Allowing him to see while the shields were down without issue. The blackness rising moments later as the weightlessness of space took hold. Silver strained in his crash webbing to see out the cockpit as he craned his neck around the lip of the metal threshold. By the chatter over the communications bands the Corporation was hot on their heels with incoming attack craft.

Far in the distance, Silver could make out faint lines of tracer fire and energy weapon discharge.

Midnight Sorrow
Command and Control
0933 Local System Time

The flash and dazzling lines of weapons fire hardly made a dent in the encroaching darkness of space. The Sorrow maneuvered deftly as it angled itself to unleash another broadside. The Battlecruiser Iskaran Moon yawned as it turned on its X-axis while spinning slightly to offer a rolling barrage from its ballistic weapons. The space between them, a couple million kilometers across, was lit by the dazzling lightshow of shells, energy weapons, and the walls of flak both ships were putting out. But, it was very clear, that out of the two the Sorrow was winning. The Battlecruiser's hull showing scorch marks, flaming balls where CIWS turrets had once been as their flak shells cooked off in brilliant shows of light and smoke drifting behind the ship, while several fires raged on a number of decks. Its crew fighting it in EVA suits and working to cut off atmosphere to such heavily damaged compartments of the vessel.

All mission elements are evacuating Iskandar. They will be upon us in twelve minutes and twenty-three seconds. The tone of the Sorrow's A.I. was matter-of-fact as it dolled out the calculation. Which, was too long as the blips of Corporate attack craft were seen to get closer to the CAG and transport than they were to the Sorrow.

"Prepare skip jump. Put us between them and the incoming attack craft."

There will be a margin of error unless I cal-.

"Do it now."

Black energy shimmered around the Sorrow in a cascade of darkness. Swallowing the light around it as photons refracted into the void that instantly incapsulated the ship. Disappearing out of existence as every ship in the system registered a momentary, 0.01 micron of a second spike in gravitational energy.

Silver

Silver looked out the cockpit as something zipped to their starboard side. Ballistic fire. The CAG traded fire but their were entire squadrons coming onto them now. "Ah shit...they'll have a missile lock on us any moment." said the Pilot under his breath. "Woah!"

Behind them the mass of the Sorrow appeared in a wreath of cascading electrical energy and black cloud. Like Dark Matter and Energy itself was rolling along the hull of the ship in a storm of observational quantum physics. The prow of the mighty vessel emerging and as it did so its broadside CIWS guns opened up on the incoming attack craft. Reducing eleven into burning embers as their formation scattered like flies struck by a horse's tail. The pilot and Silver could not help but grin as the transport flung itself around. Making for the yawning hangars of the Sorrow. The CAG coming in hot along side them.

Once touchdown and mag lock was achieved. The Sorrow jumped away in a second torrent of purplish energy and black cloud. The young man turned and made for the ramp as one of Sam's men hit the key to lower it. The HVT under multiple guns as the transport's passengers and pilot descended the ramp. CAG pilots were exiting their craft as well.

Silver couldn't help but run a hand through his hair in relief. Looking off in the distance to the main access doors the figure of a woman in a tricorne hat was rapidly approaching. "Captain comin' to inspect the good's herself," someone muttered behind Silver.

[Skaldia]

Midnight's Sorrow
0918 Local System Time
The Sorrow's Hangar

Jack was secretly relieved to be aboard the Sorrow once more. While he had enjoyed the limited time he had had on Iskandar, there was nothing that beat home. As the ramp hissed down and the Marines began to shuffle off the shuttle, Jack followed suit, ambling his way ahead of the Marines and thus being the first to step down onto the solid deck of the Sorrow. He breathed deep the recycled air of the dreadnought, momentarily closing his eyes as he savored being back where he belonged. He wiped his hands on his shirt, no longer concerned with the once expensive tailoring of the garment, now reduced to a rag covered in dirt, blood, and worse. When he had first stepped on to planetary soil, he had been impeccably dressed. Jack had a taste for the finer things in life, particularly when it came to clothes. Now, after the severe gunfight and the loss of his favorite jacket, Jack was a mess. He needed a hot shower and a little bit of grub.

Some muttering from the Marines had Jack ripped away from his personal inspection to witness the arrival of the Captain. As was expected, she was as well dressed as Jack wished he was. She wore her uniform well, the material hugging her frame and leaving just enough for Jack's imagination to fill out the rest. Not that imagination was needed much. After a century of service and more than a few torrid moments, Jack merely had to access his memory to complete the picture hidden beneath the threads. It was enough to make his mouth water and he had to forcibly remind himself of his current condition and where he was. He made a mental note though, once the hubbub was simmered down, to seek out the Captain and hopefully seek to relieve some of the tension that had coiled along his spine during the course of the last hour's events. Normally, he wouldn't do such a thing. Typically, a bit of torturing did wonders for Jack's state of mind and spirit. However, he had been rudely interrupted in his quest for zen. Now, he was going to have to bother Zamyra and hope she was in a conciliatory mood.

Not that she'd mind much, he thought ruefully.

With such pleasant thoughts serving to bolster Jack's flagging spirit, he turned back towards the shuttle."Sam! Elena! If you would be so kind as to bring the goods forward for our Captain to purview?" He said, singling out the two of them. As was expected, Samuel was in his armor, the bastard, Jack thought bemusedly. What he would not have give to have the filling of his armor enclosing his exposed flesh just a little while ago. Elena, on the other hand, wore something so skimpy as to leave almost nothing to his imagination. Jack, playing the part of a gentleman, gave her only a momentary stare before he about faced to greet Zamyra as her First Mate. The Sorrow was not a military vessel, thank the Stars, so Jack didn't salute Zamyra as she came forward. Instead he gave a mocking two finger salute off his brow and stepped out of her way to see Elena and Samuel muscling the corporate executive forward while the rest of the crew gathered around to see what the enigmatic Zamyra said for the occasion.

With Zamyra stepping finally within hearing range, Jack spoke quietly to her, so that only her and a few others could ear his words."We lost Tocrist."

Midnight's Sorrow
0919 Local System Time
The Sorrow's Hangar

Shuffling a few respectable feet behind the Captain, Etsugi moved forward. Clutched reverently in his hands was a pitch black bottle with a golden cap. Midnight Sake was a personal alcoholic beverage distilled and created by Etsugi himself. He had worked personally with the ship's hydroponics systems to create the rice and fungus necessary for the creation of the sake. The rest had required time and water to produce the exquisite sake. To give a bit more of a namesake for it, the sake made by Etsugi was nigorizake, or cloudy sake due to the amount of rice sediment left in the bottle.Unlike most nigori, the sake produced by Etsugi was thirty five percent alcohol giving it the bite of Midnight Sake a bit more pronounced. The other difference from average nigori was the cloud of white turned black upon being poured into a cup, thus earning the high price it garnered. As for the taste it was like most nigori with a mild fruity smell and gentle, cool flavor on the tongue.

WIth him came Miro, for once acting solemn, Etsugi having pressed on Miro the formality of the occasion. Miro had readily agreed, estatic at being there to see the men and women return from such a successful mission that would benefit all of the crew. Like Etsugi, Miro was dressed in a severe black uniform with golden buttons and sandals. Miro was most excited to see his friend Tocrist. It had been Tocrist to show little Miro sleight of hand with cards and other little tricks. It had not been surprising really. Tocrist had also been from the Hegemony and had been even younger than Etsugi. It was no wonder that Miro had clutched on to the young pirate so. However, as Etsugi scanned the growing crowds, he could not find Tocrist among them.

It was only as they approached Jack, the dark and bedraggled First Mate, did the words of the man reach Etsugi and his charge. Etsugi gritted his teeth, glancing down to his left to the small form of Miro. Miro, for his part, stiffened. His bottom lip trembled and tears seemed to threaten to overwhelm him. Etsugi was so proud of the boy though. Instead of breaking down and sobbing as Etsugi knew the boy wanted to, he held his head high, the tray holding the empty sake glasses not even once rattling. Etsugi, at that moment, wanted to hug the child so much and thank the Ancestors for having such an amazing adopted son as he. Although, he reflected, he should not be too surprised, knowing who Miro's mother was. Airi, you would be so proud.

Sagittar Prime
Days Ago
Bavaryan District

It had been all.. so easy. When Admiral Otto had requested an escort to finish his evening of fine wine and dining, he had called for one from the House of Night-Blooming Flowers, a legal brothel establishment designed for the wealthy and elite of the Sagittarius Star Empire. While being able to tap his communications to intercept such a call had been the most difficult part, the rest had been but being in the right place at the right time. Otto had asked for a raven haired beauty, not caring for any of the other attributes. A simple dye job and Snow was now Raven. Next, she had to wait for the escort to leave the safety of the House of Night-Blooming Flowers. The escort had eschewed the need for bodyguards. Why would she need them? Sagittar Prime, unlike most ecumenopolis', was a well ordered and relatively crime free world. Plus, she was a sanctioned escort on her way to service a powerful corporate Admiral.

Jade merely had to wait for the right moment. It occurred as the woman chose to stop on her way to the Admiral's quarters in the Center City to grab some powdered encouragement in a seedier part of the city. Jade merely had to follow her in. When the woman went to the bathroom, Jade gave her a moment, waiting at the bar and nursing a drink, and then followed her in. The sound of snorting was the first thing Jade noticed, as well as the particularly dilapidated and rundown parts of the bathroom. She tried not to pay attention to the stains adorning walls and floor, instead she focused on engaging the lock on the door. No doubt the escort moonlighted in this part of town when she needed her fix, Jade thought. It was what she would have done. The fix in question was now on the bathroom counter-top, green powder being snorted with violent force up a petite nose that seemed to not be able to the job. Oh, she needed a fix soon! Jade would have felt bad for the woman if Jade had a heart remaining to her. Unfortunately for the escort, Jade despised her former peers in the sexual services and she hated drug addicts more.

But she was pressed for time. She couldn't relish the kill with this one; she had to do it quick and move on to the real target. That was the one with the biggest payoff, both personal and professional. That's Jade! She thought, as she closed in on the woman. The prostitute was just starting to look up from her snorting. Jade had to given it to her. The woman was beautiful, at the same type of height as Jade but just a little thicker to give her a body that even Jade lusted over. It was also a shame really. The woman's pristine looks went from indignant upon being interrupted in her drug use to alarmed as Jade marched right up to her.

"What the fuck do you wa-" her tirade was interrupted with a single swift strike of Jade's small but powerful fist. The blow struck the whore in the throat, crushing her windpipe. Immediately, the woman's hands clamped to her throat, bright blue eyes going wide. It was not long before she fell to her knees, clawing at her throat. Jade spent a moment before she did anything, too busy absorbed in the feeling of contempt she had for the woman. The moment passed and Jade moved. She grabbed the woman's hair and half dragged the choking woman to one of the bathroom stalls. This was taking too long. With her hand firmly gripped in the woman's hair she lifted the whore's head and placed it on the porcelain rim of the toilet. By that point there was barely any fight left in the woman but Jade believed in being thorough. She lifted her booted foot and brought it down as hard as she could on the woman's pretty face.

The body jerked once and went still. Of the skull and face, there was merely a pulp of broken, bone, blood, and the telltale gray clumps of brain matter. Luckily, most of the blood was pooling into the toilet. Jade knelt and grunted as she lifted the woman to a sitting position on to the toilet. The body shifted left in it's unnatural siting position and rested sideways against the wall of the stall. Jade held her hands up, waiting to see if the body moved more. Satisfied that the body wouldn't move, Jade reached down and pried an identification bracelet off the woman's wrist. Part of the silver bracelet had a small node on it, to be scanned by passing machines and allow the woman access through AI. Jade tapped the side of her temple once. Suddenly, a superimposed image interfaced itself over the vision in Jade's eye and an unnatural voice tapped into her head."Look at the node, please." As ever, Euri had that prissy ass sound in her voice and Jade frowned. Nice to see you too bitch, she thought as her left eye focused on a node.

Jade looked down and a bright blue light beamed from Jade's eye over the node. Jade watched on her retina as the identity of one Kailah Fere was replaced with everything but a name change. Kailah's face disappeared and there was Jade looking right at her. Jade giggled, and liquidly slithered beneath the stall door to make sure it remained locked, leaving Jade's latest victim on the toilet. She walked out of the bathroom and headed for the Lotus she had left in a nearby flightport. She had to move quickly now. She had taken too much time in the killing of the prostitute. Almost on cue, Euri's voice was once more in her ear."Hurry!"
"I am!" She responded, angry now at having some damn machine originating Stars knew how far away telling her how to do her job. From fast walk to light jog and Jade soon reached the Flightport in record time, not that it was that hard to find as it was the tallest building by far in this part of the district. By the time she reached the top, she had approximately fifteen minutes to reach the Hexon. The Lotus was sitting where she had left it. In such a poor part of Sagittar, there wasn’t even wojek security, just passive scans for weapons or drugs. They didn’t even record identities like the ones where Jade was heading.

The ramp hissed closed as she came aboard. Almost immediately flight controls came on as the AI in Jade’s head activated control over the vessel and lifted it off the ground. There was nothing to indicate they had achieved flight, merely a soft hum as the vehicle came alive. Jade kicked off her boots and walked down the walkway towards the ladder that led to the flight deck. At the top of the ladder, she found the heels she had left there and stroked the supple leather of the heel before climbing over.[color=#80BFFFF]”Stop wasting time and focus.”[/color] Jade chose not to say anything, instead she focused on stripping out of the jacket and using a cosmi-bead to apply an even level amount of makeup, just enough to accentuate the goods. She would have a few choice words to give to Zamyra about this damn thing.

By the time Jade was finished, the ship was being hailed by Hexon’s Security LAI. She was slipping on her heels but was in close enough proximity to give voice to the hail.”Kailah Fere for Admiral Otto?” She said, in her best ‘tarian accent. It wasn’t particularly good but luckily the Security LAI didn’t have a record of Kailah’s voice or else the jig would have been up. Instead, a soft hum from the comms and Euri said in Jade’s head,”Two wojeks and two Gun Drones.” Jade cursed but kept her cool. The Gun Drones would be on passive. Only if they received an alert. A woman had had to die to make sure that didn’t happen. But Jade had done worse things to make some money. It was just so rare for a job to come from the boss herself.

There was a soft thud and the Lotus touched down on the port. Jade slid down the ladder and then hurriedly gained that composure that people expected from a woman like her. She was the epitome of calm, the dress she wore a liquid black affair that hung off her shoulders and a corset to bring attention to the goods. She walked slowly down the ramp into the cool night air on the Hexon Royal Demi-Arco, the premier hotel for the up and comers in Imperial society. A man who had stayed here once went on to become an Elector. Or other some such nonsense to validate the absurd prices and snobbish expectation that was virtually dripping over the whole damn thing. A concierge or some other hotel flunky was waiting there in his fancy uniform and uptight persona to escort the escort to a room to get plowed.

Jade smirked. At the end of the day, there was a million other events happening across the galaxy. Some self-important idiot nobody was about to be satiated and a whore was going to get paid. And yet here she was, having to act like this place was any different. Only difference here was the asshole in front of her leading her into the building and to the very door of the Admiral’s quarters himself. As he politely knocked on the door and stood there looking at Jade as if she was something he desperately wanted to wipe off his shoe, Jade merely returned the hostile stare with one of seemingly blank, absentmindedness. If only he knew of the many ways Jade wanted to wipe that look from his ugly face.

The door opened slowly. Before it could open completely, the blank facade seemed to vanish and a soft smirk, temptingly seductive, slid on to Jade’s face as if it was always there.” Thanks, pimp.” She whispered to the hotel flunky just as the door completely slid open and Jade appeared to dive inside before the look of realization and consternation broke the managerial reserve of the man. The door closed on the man as he turned around and Jade was locked around the Admiral, lips pressed hard against his, endorphins overriding any sense of propriety the man had left as the poison concealed on Jade’s lips went to work. In case the security Arco of the place was monitoring vital signs, one of her earrings served to jam the Admiral’s signal and replicate a false stable signal. The earring was designed to work for only twelves hours but by that time Jade would be long gone.

Jade made sure to get the compact, delightfully surprising handsome man to the bed before he could tumble to the floor. By that point she had disengaged her lips from him. Now, he just stared up at the ceiling, life fleeing him as the paralytic reached his lungs and heart. Jade smiled softly, sadly down at the man, brushing her fingers down his jaw and cupping his cheek and staying there as soon as his eyes went glassy. As he did, the blue beam returned from Jade’s eye, connecting with the small omnilink found on Admiral Otto’s temple. Normally, Jade would just snatch an omnilink. It had personal data and everything else the wearer might be doing. However, an Admiral was another question. Now, only a scan from the retina-link on Jade and all the pertinent data was stolen. Euribia was good enough to not even leave a trace. When the body was found there would be no proof anything was stolen, merely an assassination as an autopsy revealed the poison.

It took only thirty seconds for the scan to finish and during that whole time Jade expected an alarm to start going off. Luckily, the jammer in Jade’s ear was doing it’s job well and no alarm went off. Jade blew out a pent up breath and laid back on the soft bed next to the corpse of the Admiral.”How long was the assignment for Kailah, Euri?”

“Six hours.”
Fuck”Wake me up in five.” She said as she closed her eyes and let her body relax. If there was any trouble, Euri would wake her and besides, she needed the sleep. And the Admiral, even in his post-life state,was an admirable gentleman, letting her cuddle with him without any funny business.

She woke up with a sharp tone ringing in her ear and sat up. As soon as she did the ringing stopped and Jade yawned. The penthouse was dark and quiet. The candles lit for the turgid meeting had long gone out, leaving the room smelling of burnt wax. Likewise, a similar odor had begun to arise from her snuggle bunny and she frowned, glancing down at the dead body she had shared the bed with. He too had gone cold during the night. No matter. Soon the warmth of money would be hers. Rolling off the bed, she looked at herself in a mirror next to the bed and checked her look. She tugged her hair loose and made it look the part. Likewise, the perfect makeup was smudged around the lips and eyes.

With that done, it was simple really to walk out of the darkened hotel and back to the waiting Lotus. Once inside, she dropped the act, and strapped in to the cockpit. Luckily, the Lotus was void and jump capable but it would be a slow trip. On the other hand, she had got what she needed from the head of the Admiral and left a little message to be hand delivered to the NSTC.

“Seek Sorrow.
Grief Follows.”

[Segmentia]

Jenestra Meos

As the mission had began Jenestra Meos had been in her usual spot, supervising the small team she ran as the Sorrow's Quartermaster in securing the Sorrow and it's crews on-hand wealth. The towering amazonian alien had personally made sure every bulkhead was manually locked except the main bulkhead into the 'treasure hold' as some of the crew liked to call it, though the description was fairly close to the truth. The hold was made up of several large storage rooms, with only one real access way. The holds were lined with shelving and small vaults with valuables, hard cash in dozens of currencies, and even raw material of several highly valuable materials locked away. Normally on an away mission this wouldn't be necessary, as the Sorrow didn't have to get involved much in most away missions, but this time they were dealing with a MegaCorp, and Jenestra knew MegaCorps well enough to predict what could happen. Standing there and supervising, Jenestra cut an imposing figure, perhaps one of the most imposing on the ship given her towering 8 foot 3 inch size, she also held herself in such a way that people knew messing with her would be bad news.

She watched over her small team, all personally chosen by her for the job of supervising the goods, as they were finishing up securing the vaults and sealing doors. Two guys in particular seemed to be arguing with each other, Conners and Sahid, good friends but prone to bickering. With a sigh and a roll of her eyes Jenestra walked over to them, stopping the argument as he shadow seemed to engulf them.

“Again, boys?” Jenestra said, one hand on her hip and her brow raising. Both men looked down and mumbled, but Jenestra simply reached past them and single-handedly secured the hatch they had been arguing over. “Now, go arm up and get to your posts.” She said, and Conners and Sahid scampered away to the weapons locker. Jenestra then personally checked that everything was manually secured before returning the the central room that allowed access to the others. Most of her team was already there, weapons ready. Jenestra placed a hand on the massive hand-cannon of a revolver that she used, sitting heavily on her hip. When battles took place this was where her crew was stationed, to protect the goods not just from enemy boarders, but there was an occasional group or individual who thought they maybe had a chance to palm some extra money or valuables for themselves while everyone was busy with fighting. A squad of shotgun armed clerks was enough to deter most, and Jenestra was enough to deter the rest.

Sure enough the klaxons sounded out mere minutes later, indicating battle-stations. Jenestra eased down onto a sofa and simply waited and reminisced. As the Sorrows quartermaster she was one of the most respected individuals on the ship, because she had the potential to make peoples money safe, or vanish if she really wanted to. It wasn't a bad little gig for herself either, truth be told, and she was quickly amassing a fortune. She took a personal cut of 15% on any income the Sorrow or crew made, and offered a 'retirement' service for crew members for an additional 5%, where she would create bank-accounts for crew members and deposit funds into it so that the crew member in question, if they ever got out of the pirate life, would be sitting on a decent amount of money. Of course if any of those crew members ended up dead then those funds would revert back to Jenestra, and so long as the Sorrow was in the clear the captain didn't seem to mind this practice, and Jenestra always made sure the Sorrow was in the clear.

It wasn't all that long before the situation began to calm down. Jenestra stood and made to leave. “Keep it locked down until I get back.” She said as she made her way out, already mentally groaning at all the bending over she would have to do to get through most of the bulkheads. Sure there were certain halls and areas in the ship that she didn't have to bend over just to traverse, but the Sorrow hadn't been built for her species. Still though, she was used to it by now, and her progress to the hanger where the away team was returning was swift enough, able to stand fully as she made her away across, coming up behind the captain, the chef who she remembered being named...Etsugi? Yes, that sounded familiar, and the boys next to him was... Jenestra actually blanked on the name, she didn't interact much with the children aboard the Sorrow, and there was a decent amount of them for a starship.

Her main focus was on the HVP though, being manhandled by two others, though they seemed undamaged, which was excellent.

“Oh good, he's still in one piece. Good work on controlling yourself Jack, very good work.” Jenestra said, standing to the side and little behind the captain with a hand on her hip.

[Parcia]

Ezra


The Tigrecat banked hard and rolled on its axis, dodging the pair of snub fighters that flew by and lighting them up as they passed with the Pila turret. Seeing the two little birds go up in flames, he added two more to his talley and heard his wingman's call.

"Roger that, you have heavy ordinance, focus on the gunboats and corvettes, I'll handle the snub fighters!" With that, he opened up the throttle and threw him self in to the advancing swarm of enemy fighters, starting an intricate, graceful dance through their rank and causing the dozen or so snub fighters to break formation and scatter at not only the sight of Ezra's Tigrecat, but Konrad's heavy fighter ass well. To further add to the confusion of the enemy, he would uncouple his RCX controls and manually key up his chaff and flair launchers and just as he was lit up with multiple missile locks, he pulled a complete 180 of his momentum and orientation, popped his flare and chaff dispensers and created a veritable light show that went to blind even his own sensors.

Taking the initiative, he opened up the throttle and shot forward in to the group as they flew past him, streams of 30mm cannon fire, pulses of light, and the rest of his Side Winders IR missiles streaking out and impacting several targets at once. If he hadn't been actively planning to do it, he would have considered the maneuver crazy.


Several minuets later...

The Tigrecat would be the last bird to set down after the CAG had landed, all in all, they suffered 4 losses total and several near critical damage as a result of poor tactics and even poorer equipment. Ezra had spent the rest of the fight after his initial maneuver trying to corral the bastards in to a loose formation and nearly go this bird shot out from beneath him as a result.

[Revlona]

Sam

A smirk appeared across Sams face as Jeager went ahead of them to bow and scrape to the captain. “Asskisser..” he muttered into the secure channel that only the marines had access to. It was the same one they used for combat and it was only theirs so as to keep it uncluttered. On this frequency he heard a few grim chuckles as the marines heard him speak, though not a one betrayed the laughter by moving their bodies.

Before Jeager could finish his “Order” to Sam and Elena, as if he would accept an order from anyone other than the captain or someone who spoke with her authority, Sam had already shouldered past the man. He didn’t look to see if the power armor knocked him over or anything, the man was strong Sam knew, but it was still power armor. “Excuse me..” Sam drawled, hearing even more chuckles in the secure channel as the Marines gathered any gear in the transport and made their way out of the ship.

“Here ya go captain” Sam said, unceremoniously dropping the bundle of shit that someone had given birth to at her feet. He was still unconscious from whatever drug Elena had given him so he ragdolled in front of her. “What would you like down with him Ma’am?” He asked respectfully, finally removing his helmet as he spoke.

Captain Ryan Foster

Ryan stood at the forefront of the bridge, before him say the great behemoth that was his ship, the Trident. It was a marvel of engineering, a newer model of Battle Ship that could blast away many of the older models still in use by the navies of the galaxy, and it was all his. The bridge he stood upon itself was a rather new thought of engineering. It held thick windows that in times of non-violence could be used to view around the ship, but the bridge itself could sink into the bowels of the ship, the windows turning into monitors so to protect the brain of the whole ship.

And what a brain it was. Ryan was not a humble man, he knew his own worth and captaining such a vessel was definitely worthy of him. So was revenge, for his sister, for the many people killed or ruined by the bastard brother in law that was Samuel, revenge. A grim smile crept across his face as the idea of such revenge came to him. The smile widening as he imagined what he would do when he got his hands on that bastard. The smile disappearing when he saw the fast attack craft of the trident shoot by the bridge of the ship, barely 100 meters away, danger close.

“Ensign! Give me the name of that reckless idiot of a pilo...no don’t, I already know who it is..” Foster said calmly, his voice cracking with authority as he spoke. Staff officers on deck all brought their eyes to him when he spoke and they all knew who the pilot was even as the captain realized himself.

“Have Lieutenant Commander Foster report to my quarters immediately..” He snapped before placing his hands behind his back and striding from the bridge.

[Argonopolis]

Berth Exter

As she stepped off the battle-scarred transport and onto the sturdy metal of the Sorrow, Bertha's adrenaline rush finally caught up to her. If not for her powered armor, she might have collapsed from the post battle jitters. She quickly straightened up when the mutters about the Captain arriving reached her ears. While this was a pirate ship, showing the Captain respect was still important. After the hilarity of Sam and Jack's dick measuring contest, the Marines were eventually dismissed and Bertha hurried to the hydroponics section. She had to make sure her crop was still alright after the shake up from battle maneuvers. Her precious spuds, half to eat and half to drink, were still alright, being only mildly shook up. Growing the plants had started as a nostalgic comfort that reminded her of home, but it soon turned into a small side business. Through percussive persuasion and a little bit of cash, Bertha had secured her own little mini farm that she had filled with the various varieties of potato she could find. With her plant worries cleared, Bertha hurried to her next stop deep in the water filtration section of the ship. One of the wrench monkeys had built his own still, and with Bertha's crop he was making some spaceship vodka. For her part in the venture, Bertha got half of the product to sell or consume as she saw fit and after that mission she planned to consume a lot. Bertha picked up her current allotment of four bottles and rushed to her final destination the meeting room for the Marine's post op party.

[Brusia]

Dr. William Warren
The Sorrow
Hanger

William stood behind and off to the Captain's side along with two medics and a variety of medical equipment at the ready to provide emergency medical aid to anyone wounded on the mission. Fortunately, as the shuttle's occupants disembarked, no one rapidly darted out carrying a wounded comrade in the direction of the sickbay, so it seemed any injuries sustained on this run were relatively minor. He did however notice one man clutching the side of his head, with small streaks of blood running down his wrist.

He made his way through the group of disembarking pirates back towards the wounded fellow, whom he recognized as the latest Ajax as he got close.

"Forget to duck?" William jokingly asked as he approached the man, making sure to speak towards the good side of his head. Ajax shot the Doctor an unamused look, as William pointed towards the injured ear and stated: "Alright now, let's have a look."

"It's just a scratch Doc" Ajax replied. "I'll be fine."

"Yes, yes that's what they all say" William stated "But I can guarantee you it will feel like alot more than just a scratch once all the adrenaline has died down, so might as well save us both some trouble and just get this taken care of now."

Ajax sighed and the stepped off to the side of the hanger with William following alongside, then lowered his hand to reveal he'd sustained far more than just a scratch. It appeared either a bullet or some shrapnel had struck the side of his head and caused a traumatic amputation of the entire pinna, while also damaging some of the nearby soft tissue. William motioned towards one of the medics to approach stated: "We're going to need to treat this in sickbay, but for now I'm going to give you some medigel to help with the pain and decrease the risk of infection then bandage this up, alright?"

With a heavy sigh, Ajax replied: "Fine, let's just get this over with."

William grabbed one of the spray bottles with medigel, a potent substance with antiseptic, analgesic, and coagulating properties often used by various militaries and EMTs throughout the Galaxy to help stabilize traumatic injuries, and sprayed down the wound before carefully bandaging it. Once he was finished, William instructed the medics: "If any other casualties come in, stabilize them and get them to sickbay ASAP as well; even if they claim to be fine." The medics nodded in agreement, and William and Ajax exited the hanger and made their way towards the sickbay...

[Imperialisium]

The Midnight Sorrow
Hangar
Captain Drakazha

Drakazha's presence was graceful if quite silent. Approaching the members of the crew returning from the transport, both her hands clasped behind her torso, as she nodded to them when they disembarked. The Hangar of the Sorrow was expansive but largely empty. The idle deck hands meandering about working on craft or cargo. Checking fuel tanks and armaments. Some swabbed the metal decking while a trio were deep in the guts of another transport craft's engine compartment. As to what they were doing Zamyra seldom asked unless it was pertinent. The domain of her CAG and she seemed not at all perturbed at their work so long as it was yielding positive results. The Captain's tricorne hat shifted straight once more as her bright eyes beamed at the disembarked individuals before her. We lost Tocrist. Indeed, as Zamyra looked about the hangar there was more than one attack craft that had not returned. No doubt her CAG would make a morose remark regarding this latest spat of operational losses.

"We will mourn Tocrist." said Zamyra flatly. As a pirate captain should in front of her men and women. Indeed, there would be many rounds of booze and cheer in the memory of Tocrist by his fellows left behind. It was however the emotional response from Moro, the boy under the guardianship of Etsugi, that symbolized the loss dozens of the crew would feel. Not just for Tocrist either. For the pilots lost as well. Jenestra, the physically imposing Quartermaster, and the good doctor, William Warren, had also pulled up behind Zamyra. The good doctor naturally overseeing the ministrations of the bumped and tumbled during the evacuation portion of the mission. Elena's scantily clad form caused a slight eyebrow raise from Zamyra. But, more than likely out of sheer amusement, as the Captain reached up and lifted her hat up in a slight salute to Elena before returning to her serious demeanor. Jenestra's comment to Jack and the thud of the prize to the deck snapped Drakazha back to the fore.

Indeed, the High Valued Target, or HVT, was in one piece and nothing but a minor contusion or two to show for it. Impressive. The slinking form of Bertha Exter moving away caused Zamyra's voice to come forth, slightly louder, but yet unable to shake the sultry smooth enunciation of her words.

"Miss Exter and Miss Evasteor. Do sleep well during the night cycle. We will have need of your services on the 'morrow." Indeed, within twenty-four hours was the planned hand over of the HVT for the two thirds of the remaining payment for the job.

Zamyra leaned down as the HVT blinked around at the individuals moving about him. His mind comprehending his surroundings. Grasping his skull the man no doubt was the feeling the 'come down' from the LSD trip Elena had sent him on. A sizable bruise stretching across his throat that Drakazha could only surmise as being also due to her witty intelligence specialist. Elena did have a way with conducting operations and she never ceased to yield what was needed. Zamyra couldn't help but release a flicker of a smile at that thought. The man rotated his skull as he noticed the presence of Zamyra and his head shot back.

"YOU!" The man bellowed in an almost shriek.

"Me." replied Zamyra with a raised eyebrow.

"Pirate, thief, what do you want!"

"Yes, yes, and you." shot back Zamyra with a smirk.

"Look." Enter the pleading stage as reality continued to become lucid around the man. The armed and armoured marines. The xenos behind Zamyra who could easily send him head over heels into a wall. The leering face of Jack. Pirates. Scoundrels and villains! Then it struck him. His face paled. No doubt he'd heard all manner of horrific stories regarding the Midnight Sorrow and how it treated those vanishing unto its holds. Ghostship! Scourge!

"I--I can pay. Its money you want, yes?! I can pay. Name your price!"

"Wouldn't happen to have thirty million on you right now, would you?" asked Zamyra. Showing pearly white teeth.

"I..." The man wasn't aware.

"Thirty million is the price of your freedom. Bartholomieu. Renard."

"My freedom?"

"Rytheon, your employer, well, former employer I imagine. Doesn't like you going about and scurrying to their competition. So here we are. On our way to give you back to what I can only imagine is a meeting to receive quite the pink slip?" Zamyra straightened her back. Zamyra nodded to Jenestra and whispered into her ear, "Get Elena and Warren to a flash copy of his memory. Collateral."

Zamyra shot around and laid eyes on Silver as Jenestra and others tended to their increasingly worried and frantic guest. "Silver."

"Captain." said Silver as he bowed his head in respect. He let out a scuffled sound as Zamyra seized his jaw. Turning his face and examining him. Released him slowly as Silver looked into the captains eyes. Noticing a faint swirl of silver and gold that vanished after a few seconds. "You've returned unscathed. Impressive for a cabin boy."

"T-thank you mam."

Zamyra betrayed no emotion at that response. Merely eyeing Silver as she turned on her heel slowly and walked away. Stopping only after making it a dozen paces and turned back to the cabin boy, "Boy." Silver recognized the tone which beckoned him to follow. Scurrying after the Captain as she sauntered from the hanger and back towards her own quarters which were eleven decks up.

Silver

Silver followed Captain Drakazha from the hangar into the illuminated halls of the Sorrow. A vessel whose baroque interior architecture contrasted with portions of the vessel given over to more plane gunmetal gray and chrome plating of Orion vessels. The sterility of the architecture versus something ornately archaic from another time. But there was of course rumours about this. That truly the whole ship bore the same interior baroque artistry and that the sterile decking was merely inlaid by the generations of the Sorrow's piratical crew. Why this would be the case? None could accurately say. None truly cared to ask it seemed and the ship itself remained relatively smug on answering questions about its history that was older than the hundred years or so the Sorrow has engaged in piracy.

Moving to a lift the captain neglected to wave a hand over the activation panel to the left of the lift doors. Turning around to face the way they came Silver gave that thought. The lift activated as he did so with a smooth motion of rising in his stomach. He'd seen quite a few particular quirks by the Captain and the ship in his short time aboard. Ever since--Silver shut down the painful rising memories of 'oh so recent. Merely waited as the lift doors opened and he once more fell in behind the Captain. Her arms characteristically clasped behind her back. Giving herself the air of authority as her black booted feet silently stepped along. Had she ever made a sound aboard the ship? An ethereal thought. But then again there were the legends of the Sorrow being a ghost ship. Silver shook his lightly of the thought. The Captain stopped and turned slightly to him. Causing Silver to stiffen and look at the woman's face, so young and beautiful it seemed, as if awaiting an order. Drakazha turned away without a sound and kept walking. Winding through the corridors until they arrived at a set of tall stainless steel doors.

They slid open smoothly and both passed through into the Captain's quarters. Spartan and lacking much in ornamentation. His bunk lay to the left of the door with his small cubicles for personal items. A desk and several stands were about the place. The hum of a computational terminal in the corner along with a small holo-table in the centre. Nothing of important note as the shelves and cases were mostly empty. The Captain continued walking and Silver stopped as if unsure to continue following. For on the opposite end of the room was a set of even larger Baroque doors. Doors he had never passed through. Doors he had only seen the Captain and the ships A.I. pass through. Peculiar, they where, not for being what they are which is a set of doors. But of their seemingly wooden construction. Stained dark and gilded with gold, silver, and platinum. A pair of rearing dragons holding aloft a golden sun emanating lightning bolts.

Zamyra stopped at the doors. "Its been many years since I've had a true cabin boy. For the past months you've dutifully carried out such mundane tasks as cleaning this sterile room and organizing whatever I set you to do so. But you've not passed this threshold before, I wonder, have you been tempted to do so?"

Silver's eyes looked about nervously. "I..I suppose." But Zamyra has had cabin boys. New recruits of appropriate age or picked children of the crew to clean that desk. Maintain that terminal. Sweep and clean the floor.

"You and I are similar Silver. More so than any who have occupied your position before." The Captain laid a hand on the ornate doors and they smoothly swung inward. Drakazha held up a hand, extending a finger indicating him to follow. Silver started and stopped. Apprehension in his mind. He swallowed and looked down at his feet. What wonder lay beyond those doors he thought? Looking up he nearly fell back as Drakazha's face rested a foot away from his. Her eyes peering down at him. There they where! The lights! The silver and gold swimming in her irises. Eldritch lights that Silver couldn't help but stare into.

"Those doors will not stay open forever. Unless I made a mistake in offering? Has my investment in you been a waste, would you like to return to the rock from whence I whisked you from?" Her voice despite the implications still bore that sultry enamor he had come to know. Silver meekly put a foot forward, Zamyra taking one step back as he did so, mirroring him as he moved with growing confidence. Her face winding into a smile as she abruptly stepped aside. Silver looked about and noticed the environment was different. Wood paneling and baroque furnishings abounded. He looked around just in time for the doors to shut. Brass mechanisms clinking into place in what looked to be the most complicated and beautifully wrought lock ever contrived.

Silver looked about himself. A painting on the wall of some mystical ethereal landscape of beautiful plains, mountains, and forests of purple, pinks, and burning electrum coloured foliage. An aurora adorned the deep blue of the sky in the painting. Drakazha stood behind him. "Gone, the quiet meadows of an Auroran Summer." Zamyra spoke longingly. Like she had been there somehow. Stepping away Silver couldn't help but turn and follow like some unseen force was guiding him along. The furnishings about the spacce were equally beautiful. Another set of double doors which Zamyra swung open through the twist of gilded knobs and there was revealed a space easily four decks high.

A planetarium of swirling lights adorned the middle of the empty space where the second and third floors ringed. Books ringed the second and third floors. The floor first floor below was adorned with all manner of twinkling machinery that defied Silver's understanding of how machinery operated. To the right another door was open to reveal a spacious bedroom. Clearly this was the space Zamyra actually called home.

"I.."

"You didn't think I slept in that sterile monstrosity of a room, did you? I thought not, and thats why you never saw me sleeping in there."

"W-."

A third voice swam to life as a light bopped around them. The voice of the Sorrow coming from the small orb, "Ah, so you have brought him, he seems a bit lost?"

Zamyra turned to him, "Your duties will now include the upkeep of these quarters. You are not to remove any object from here without my permission. Understand?"

Silver swiveled his head to her and stammered, "I, yes, yes Captain."

"Good. The books need dusting. Best get to work," her eyes widened playfully at that last remark as Silver turned quickly to shuffle off the way he came to gather what he needed. The baroque doors however remained closed. "Um...there a kn," Silver moved to touch part of the brass and recoiled. Looking at his index finger. A small cut. Looking at the brass his eyes widened as his bright red vitae was seemingly absorbed into the brass. Immediately, the mechanism began to operate itself with rotating gears, rotating tumblers, and moving piston arms as the doors swung open to reveal the more modern looking quarters beyond.

Zamyra peered around the corner at this behaviour with a wry smile. The orb of the A.I.'s holographic projection popping up alongside her, "Bold move. Bringing in one here. Especially, one that has been with us for so little of time. Is someone feeling lonely?"

"I'm never alone Eurybia. Always have you."

"Hm, that is true. I shall monitor his every move."

"As I suspected you would."