To say he was disappointed was an understatement, Krull really liked the sieges. In the end he was trapped in this democracy, an infernal invention, and was forced to go on the escort. As the Alamo entered the atmosphere Krull retreated into his room to make the proper rites for the coming battle. Armor plating, leather straps, scraps of paper baring war litanies, and a golden coin hidden underneath his facial wraps. Krull was ready.

His heavy foot steps joined the chorus as the group made their way to the transport ship. His disappointed formed a frown on his face, which must have looked like a sneer to anyone else as all the non-mercenaries kept him several arms lengths away. As the explosions rang throughout the air it lifted his spirits up and Krull became more receptive to his environment, listening to Johns words as they left his helmeted head. Krull gave a grunt and ran towards the transport, reaching it in no time flat. Once he entered the ship he began to map its interior in his head, always keeping an ear open for trouble as he explored.

Eight left the Alamo with the rest of the group. He may not have had a personal interest in this mission but Eight was always accumulating data. The Babylon IV a new chance for him to have first hand experience of another type of system. Every FTL drive was different. They all operated on the same basic principle of mass alteration but every drive was constructed uniquely.

When the bombs rang out, Eight tracked the duration of the explosion, the sound of the shock wave, and the color of the detonation and concluded that the Xenovian Revolutionaries were using photonic particle explosives. After exploding these left a concentration of dense particles in the air the inhibited the process of energy transference which rendered much technology all but useless. They were more effective for ground assaults than they were for interstellar combat so as long as the Babylon IV cleared the area soon they would be unaffected.

Eight ran for the Babylon, mostly so he could have a look at there systems. The Babylon he could see from it's design as he entered was a Meridian Transport Ship, Theta Class. It had a sizable cargo hold and the engines as well as the design of the ship were meant for maneuverability and speed, this unfortunately meant that it's weapons systems were nominal. Likely one of the reason Starfire had been contracted in the first place. It's crew compliment would be no more than fifteen. The Theta Class vessels were built to be both swift and replaceable. The Yamikov-Fujikawa Transport Company was not unfamiliar with piracy and had learned how to minimize it's losses.

With a full ship schematic in his head Eight headed directly to the ship's engineering core, ignoring the hulk like Krull that had boarded with him. Once Eight arrived the small engineering crew knew why he was there because of the patch on his shoulder proclaiming him a member of Starfire's Raptor Squad. Eight demanded a work station which he was provided and routed a continuously updated status report on all major systems as well as creating an open com link with the bridge of the transport vessel and the Alamo in case there was any pertinent information he had to relay to the captain of either ship. "Captain, it would be prudent to initiate the launch sequence now before the Babylon is disabled by photonic charges." With the Captain's consent Eight prepped the engines for launch as someone on the bridge took the helm.

The girl shook her head at Bruce's question. Good, that would've been awkward, he thought to himself as he noticed the other man looking at him. There was a short pause before the man spoke: "What is your designation?" The wording caught Bruce off guard. My designation? Oh, he must mean my name. Of course.

Before he could answer, the girl struggled out an answer, stuttering a bit. "I'm...Johanna...Johanna Hawkins."

"I'm Bruce Harnel, nice to meet the both of you!" he said cheerfully. He downed the rest of his drink and went to retrieve the rest of his equipment from his room. Actually, I don't think I ever caught the other man's name. Oh well, there'll be plenty of time for that.

Back in his room, Bruce donned his helmet and began to inspect the rest of his gear while he waited.

---

Once the Alamo arrived at its destination, Raptor squad moved to meet with... someone, likely the captain. Bruce wasn't privy to the details, his orders would come soon enough and that would be plenty for him. Once they reached the main, the already brief conversation was cut even shorter by an explosion. The combat was about to begin.

Shortly thereafter, Bruce received the orders he was waiting for: "I suggest at least three people join him to protect the Babylon from boarders. Everyone else head back to the Alamo before one of those mortar shells gets us or the ship. Let's move it people!"

"Welp, that would be my cue," Bruce said to the rest of the squad "my ship is old and as much as I love her, she's not built for something this big." Even if this might not be that big... He immediately made his way towards the Babylon IV, wanting to learn the layout in the short time he had left.

Valian had never liked war zones. The was air always afire with the sounds of fighting, fleeing, and dying. He much preferred to fight in his ship, where the only sound was your own breathing, and whatever beeping alerts your ship had. But when you work with Starfire, you sometimes have to fight on-planet, or else in a station, so Valian was able to keep his cool—at least outwardly. Inside he was nervous. He didn't believe that they would be attacked, and if they were he was no slouch in gunplay, even if everyone else on his team was probably his better, but he knew that it wasn't where he belonged.

He could tell the nervous man was the captain from his uniform, but he was otherwise entirely unremarkable. Either he got the job because the old captain died in the battle, or he's been spoon-fed by some rich daddy his whole life. Maybe both. His nervousness was understandable given his situation, but someone in command doesn't just that that show. Hell, buffoons like this are probably the real reason this planet's in such dire straits. Oh well, like uncle Kaas always said, "Where incompetence festers, there is opportunity."

He was not surprised to see Krull choose to guard against boarding parties. He didn't know much about Goralians, but he did know that they weren't exactly a passive people. Guy probably voted for the siege. Oh well, better for me this way. He had not expected "Eight" to board the Babylon, however. He had seen a perfectly good ship in the hangar that he understood belonged to his fellow Cyborg. Maybe there's still a person underneath that computer-speak of his. I certainly hope so, it'll make things much more interesting. He'd seen that other guy's ship in the hangar—Bruce, wasn't it?—and while he could appreciate it for what it was, Valian understood why his teammate didn't want to do this mission in it.

Valian grinned, "Well I'm going to be of much more use flying than guarding against boarding attempts." And the ship he used led to an interesting situation: While much closer in size and speed to a fighter than one would expect from a cargo ship, even one designed for agility, the Starbolt was still very much that. It wasn't out of the question that any attacking forces would assume that he had something in his hold—and he did, but it was nothing on the scale of Oppenheinium. Nevertheless, it was possible that they'd come after him first. His grin only grew larger as the anticipation for the upcoming battle swelled within him. He could barely hear the distant sounds of war. It's been far to long since I've been able to give the Starbolt a proper fly. Let's see what these rebels can bring to bear.

Jaydaar followed the others out of the ship, but his attention was taken by the Alamo's hull, sure the shielding prevented damage from entering atmosphere, but getting the Alamo back up was going to be difficult due to the size of the ship itself. he turned back to see John talking to the captain of the Babylon, though a moment later an explosion rang out causing Jay to give a startled yelp and leap 4 feet forward. after regaining his composure he realized it was the XRF beginning their assault. John shouted out an order for some of the squad to join the Babylon's crew and the rest return to the Alamo, Jay did the latter and sprinted back up the ramp into the ship. he headed for the hanger bay and his ship and upon arriving he began prepping his ship to launch separate from the Alamo.

"I'll go." Johanna said firmly, her face now hidden beneath her helmet. Her tone was calm, confident. She held her rifle like she'd been born with it. The nervous, timid Johanna seemed to have vanished the moment the first explosion sounded. There was no question that Johanna would be more useful on the Babylon, she didn't have a ship of her own, there wouldn't be much she could do otherwise.

She boarded the ship after Krull, Eight, and Bruce. Out of all of them now on board, Krull was clearly their first line of defense. If the big, imposing alien was as powerful and terrifying as he looked then any would be boarders were going to have a hell of a time trying to stop him. Still, knowing the XRF even a brute like Krull wouldn't be enough to stop them, they were relentless like that. Eight had going to engineering, clearly his primary concern would be to keep the ship running and coordinating with the Alamo. Bruce...well she didn't know a thing about Bruce other than his name and cheerful demeanor. He was well armored and had a full arsenal of weapons, clearly a fighter.

In her head Johanna reasoned how it would play out. If and when they were boarded, Krull would be the first to jump into the fray. She and Bruce would watch his back and pick off enemies as they were occupied with Krull. Eight would most likely stay where he was in engineering and only join in the fight if the boarders managed to reach engineering, which was the last thing they wanted.

At least that was the most likely scenario, with any luck they wouldn't get boarded at all, but Johanna had stopped believing in luck when she'd been kidnapped and experimented on.

Deraen followed the mercenaries to the briefing to hear the recommendations of procedure. He waited until the four from their party decided to take up a post on the Babylon IV, even as the bombing began just above their heads. In spite of the Captain's obvious weakness at least he'd had the sense to launch from a discreet location. Other than a few lightly-masked judgmental glances, the Andalite did not seem to be particularly worried. Now that the siege had begun, he was affirmed in the wiseness of his choice.

He waited until all designated crew were on board Babylon before turning back round and reboarding the Alamo. It was just as well, he would rather be within reach of his personal fighter in the event of a crisis, whether he ended up flying it into combat or not. In spite of himself he was excited at the prospect of a little danger. Deraen was not what you would call a risk-taker, but one does not become a fighter pilot by being a pacifist, and he preferred to take an active role in any sort of conflict. That's why you're an outlaw, the bittersweet thought floated through his head, That's why you're running around with this gang of misfits, shooting things for money. The more he thought about it the more he liked the idea. Up until recently he'd always thought of himself as a criminal, but his moral compass was more than a little off-point--it probably always had been--and he liked the word "outlaw" much better, as if he were beyond all authority. It must have been a human concept he'd picked up over the years, since humans had a funny habit of romanticizing certain illegal behavior. Still, he liked it.

Deraen decided to take up guard-duty on the Alamo, but made a stop at his ship in the hanger to outfit himself properly in the event they were boarded. Even so, while he was proud of the small arsenal of personal combat weapons he'd collected for himself, Deraen's favorite way to dispatch an enemy had always been the weapon he'd been born with. Namely, his tail blade. Andalite tail-fighting was really more a tradition than a serious practice these days, since modern warfare usually didn't call for ground troops and shredders were much more efficient, not to mention cleaner. Nonetheless, if Deraen had excelled at anything in his life it was tail-fighting, and there was nothing more satisfying than lopping off your enemy's head in one clean cut.

With this mindset he made for the bridge and took up a stance in the corridor just outside, blocking the way to the control room as well. The space was a bit narrow for his liking but if they were boarded he'd be able to see trespassers coming, since they would most likely attack the bridge in an attempt to take control. Pirates might disable the engines and weapons, or find other ways to cripple the Alamo, but in order to truly take the ship they'd have to go through one ornery Andalite. By no means was it the most important point though, if they lost engines, shields, or life support they'd probably lose the fight regardless of how well the bridge and was protected. Deraen projected his thought-speech ship wide to express this concern.

<Raptor Squad ought to dedicate a unit to guarding the Alamo's power centers in the event of boarders. The rest should either take up a gunner position or be ready to launch fighters.> His own fighter waited for him just a few decks below, but he only planned to make use of it if they lost control of the Alamo, and he doubted that would happen. With all this sorted out, there was nothing left to do but wait for take off.

As Babylon IV began its ascent, several XRF fighters broke off from the battle to try and intercept the transport vessel. They were only able to get off one shot each before being called back by their superiors, allowing the Babylon to only receive minor damage to its outer hull. The Alamo soon caught up with no trouble as the XRF had no reason to attack Sunfire vessels unless they were working directly for the Imperials. Both ships soon broke through Teta's atmosphere and escaped the siege below.

John activated the comm-link in his helmet to communicate with those who had gone toward the Alamo with him, "Lizard-guy, Ball of Lightning, and Other Cyborg, get in your fighters and make sure to protect the Babylon and the Alamo from anyone who might think raiding us is a good idea." Meeting Deraen in the hallway outside of the Alamo's bridge, the helmeted mercenary turned to the Andalite and said, "Way to think ahead there, big guy. I'll head down towards Engines and Life Support then." As he walked back toward the elevator to the lower decks of the Alamo, he shouted back, "Good luck, and try not to die."

-=-=-

After several hours of travel without incident, the inevitable finally occurred. A pirate ship, as large as the Babylon IV and the Alamo combined, appeared from behind an even larger asteroid. That's the most ridiculous looking pirate ship I have ever seen. John, whose datapad was connected to the Alamo's outer camera feed, could see the incoming hostiles and prepared for the incoming assault as several anchor-like tendrils shot forward, impaling themselves to the Alamo and the Babylon. "Damn it. Of course they've got anchors. For those of you who've never had to hold a ship off from pirates, this is a classic strategy of theirs. Those anchors are connected to their ship's airlocks, so that's how they're going to board. Our flyboys are the only ones who can disconnect us, though I doubt they're just going to let them."

As if on cue, a horde of around ninety fighters burst from the pirate ship's various hangar bays. In total, forty anchors connected the attacking ship to the Babylon and twenty anchors on the Alamo, each with countless pirates all traveling down the tubes to wreck havoc inside the ships.

Johanna gritted her teeth, she knew something like this had been bound to happen. She checked her rifle once again to make sure it was good and ready. The Babylon shook as the anchor's impaled it's hull. They were gonna have a hell of a fight on their hands shortly, if the size of that pirate ship said anything, it was that there was a lot of pirates heading their way.

"Hey big guy, you ready?" She called out to Krull, might have seemed like a pretty stupid question, but maybe seeing just how ready the big guy was would psyche up the rest of them. Gods know they needed it.

<You as well, John Mason.>

Take off went without a hitch and Deraen settled in to wait out the journey. They weren't even out the system yet, passing below an asteroid belt, when the pirates appeared. Their attack was sudden and the Alamo had very little time to react thanks to the asteroids interfering with the ship's sensors. The ship trembled with each anchor lock-in. The Andalite remained at his post, waiting.

Deraen reached into one of his pouches, pulling out a piece of equipment and fastening it over the slitted nostrils that made up his nose. It was a gas mask of sorts. As predicted, it wasn't long before the pirates located the bridge and made it their target. A swarm of them appeared at the end of the corridor and Deraen sidestepped behind a bulkhead as they began shooting. When they were halfway there he tossed two canisters in their path, which rolled across the floor for a few seconds before spitting out a toxic red vapor. Caught off-guard and temporarily disoriented by the smoke screen, the pirates faltered. They gagged on the air and some of them pulled their own gas masks on, but the disruption was a large enough window of opportunity for Deraen to step into their line of site and mow them down with an automatic weapon. A human-made gun called a P90, as he understood, that propelled small projectiles called bullets at such a speed that they tore through flesh and bone alike. It was heavy, but the shoulder-strap helped him to hold it steady while two slender fingers activated the trigger.

The pirates screamed and fell bleeding on the deck. Deraen noticed they were all humans, but it wasn't unusual for pirates to go marauding in groups composed exclusively of their own kind. As he stepped over the bodies one of them rose up behind him, and must have assumed that since Deraen was facing forward that he could sneak up on him. Of course, it's impossible to sneak up on an Andalite since their stalk eyes allow them to see in all directions at once. Without so much as pausing mid-stride Deraen whipped his tail back and stabbed the pirate through the chest before he could think to fire off a shot.

<Be advised: air contamination in Sector 2.> He broadcast his thought-speech for his crewmates, if any of them came to help him they would know what to expect. Deraen put another canister in hand and continued down the corridor. Another wave came at him shortly and he gassed them like the first group, slaughtering them at his leisure. The next wave was ready for him however, almost all of them wearing their own masks and all of them firing at once. He ducked into an adjoining passageway, pulled the pin on a plasma grenade, and threw it around the corner, counting each second until detonation. Before the explosion had cleared he was out again to finish off any survivors.

Jay's had drifted his ship into a patrol pattern around The Alamo for the more peaceful part of the trip, when the large pirate ship appeared, anchored both the Babylon and the Alamo, deployed upwards of ninety fighters, and sent over a massive boarding party he just sighed and murmured "of course" and turned his ship to head behind the Alamo to avoid the fighters. He powered the shields on his fighters ram and as he maneuvered behind the Alamo and came around he ignited the afterburners and rammed strait through at least seven of the anchors connecting to the Alamo, making sure he kept closer to the Alamo using it's guns for cover from the fighters. Several of the pirate's fighter were tailing him as he came back around toward the cruiser aiming to take cover in the range of the Alamo's guns again.

On boarding the Alamo, Valian went to his ship to make sure everything was in top shape. Checking the controls, engine, weapons systems, shield, and other myriad of finicky bits that go into making a ship operational. Normally the sort of thing you want done before you're put in a situation where you might need to take off at any moment, but Valian saw himself first, not as a contracted employee of Starfire, but as a pilot. It was a matter of pride to him that he would notice if something was wrong with his ship. The only reason he was checking was because he'd learned the hard way that it's best to be careful.

Much to his surprise, Valian had finished checking his systems before anything happened. It stayed that way, until the one of the ships' pilots decided to pass by a large asteroid. How large? After practically leaping into his ship's cockpit, Valian pulled up some pictures from the Alamo's outer camera feed, and saw one large enough to hide a ship bigger than the the Alamo or the Babylon. Alright, what's the deal here? Even if we were trying to avoid standard flight paths, what idiot chose to pass so close to an asteroid that big? There's so much empty space out here... That train of thought died as soon as he saw the ship that was hiding behind it. When he did, he couldn't help but break into hysterical laughter. "That is the silliest fucking thing I've ever seen!" His mic was off, so his team-mates wouldn't have heard his outburst unless they were passing through the hangar at the time—he wasn't that loud.

His laughter ceased as soon as he heard the anchors hit. The fact that the pirates, idiotically silly carrier ship aside, hit him like a freight train. His grin did not leave his face, but it turned from one of mirth into one of malice. "Alright. So, ninety ships? Could be worse. Wonder how many of them will be dead before this is through." Wasting no more time, Valian brought his ship out of the Alamo's hangar. Since the pirates were still a good distance away from him, he whipped his ship around with his many RCS thrusters to take aim at one of the anchors on the Alamo with his energy beams. He didn't get the chance to see if he hit his mark though—the pirates had arrived, specifically a group of three.

Damn, they're faster than I thought. While he may have tried to get in an attack of opportunity on the anchors, John was right—they wouldn't be letting him cut those anchors. He dodged around the enemy fire, and took shots of his own at his assailants, the flash of his ballistic gun visible just under the Starbolt's nose. One pirate took a hit in the cockpit—taking the pilot out and sending the ship spiraling out into the void—and another in the wing, rendering it largely inoperable. Prioritizing speed over shields? Interesting. Might even be a pattern. Sure would make my job easier.

Valian glanced down at the anchor he'd shot at, and it was severed, the pirates already in transit tumbling out into the void. He looked towards the pirate carrier, only to see more ships heading his way. Well, let's see what this fleet of eighty-eight's got any more surprises for me.

A group of ten pirates walked out of the elevator that led to the hallway to Engine Control and Life Support. So far, their progress had gone unimpeded and the crippling of the Starfire vessel would go off without a hitch. As they turned the corner though, one lone figure blocked the pirate's path. John leaned against the wall, spinning his handgun on the end of his index finger. Noticing the ten marauders in his peripheral vision, he grabbed the grip of his pistol and, in one quick motion, loaded a full clip into the gun while grabbing his second, still holstered gun, and fired both at the intruders. Several .45 ACP rounds tore through the little to completely unprotected bodies of the pirates, dropping them to the ground. As each of them collapsed the shooter mentally counted each kill. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten... Damn, I was expecting more.

"Well, you guys weren't any fun," the helmeted merc said as he approached the bodies. He picked up a small headset off one of them and spoke into the microphone, "If you want to take this ship from us, you'll have to try a lot harder than that." He looked over at the elevator and, sure enough, it began to move back up to pick up more targets for John. Under the helmet, he let out an unseen smile. Better not disappoint.

Being one of the few members of Raptor Squad meant he was completely grounded for the entire flight, boring but acceptable. Through his time he had mapped out "his" area of the ship, preparing himself for any trouble that was bound to happen. Eventually boredom won out over his sense of duty and Krull found himself leaning against a wall, the undeniable sound of metal on metal as he sharpened his cleaver. A heavy sigh escaped his chest, this waiting was so frustrating. Back of Galor all you had to do was challenge someone to a fight and you had your entertainment for a couple hours but now that he was in the "civilized world" that kind of behavior was frowned upon, prudes the lot of them.

"Hey big guy, you ready?" said the feline human, a timid thing you wouldn't expect to be a warrior. Krull gave her a sidelong look before admiring his blade. "Yes, always ready." , tooth filled alligator smile taking hold of his face. Soon after, a great shaking filled the Babylon and the spark of excitement turned into a raging fire. Krull sped towards the closest sounding crash, finding the boarding vessels opening and heard the rush of pirates coming towards the slaughter. as the humans say, poor bastards. Waiting until they were nearly upon him, Krull turned the corner and sprayed the inside with hot lead. The heavy bullets of the Hammerburst tore into the pirates, exploding heads, punching holes, and severing limbs with ease as the pirates were caught with their metaphorical pants down.

Fortunately for the pirates the second wave learned from the front and their own weapons fire flew through the boarding anchor, several bullets bouncing off his armor harmlessly. Quickly retreating around the corner, Krull began to wrack his brain for a plan before he noticed the absence of gunfire and the click of an empty gun. Rounding the corner once more Krull unloaded death upon the hapless lot, aiming for the ones reloading their rifles first. The ones he missed charged the Galorian, swimming in combat drugs and hell bent on shanking the Galorian to death...the poor bastards.

Though Eight was protecting the engineering area of the Babylon IV it did not mean he could not be helpful. He swiftly disabled the encryption protocol on the ship and routed the security feeds from all decks to his station. He could have asked the captain for the decryption algorithm but with Eight's unique knowledge it was faster to bypass it altogether.

Eight tracked four breaches in the Babylon's hull, once the grapplers where disabled certain sections could be isolated to prevent the entire ship from being vented. The Babylon's bulkheads were effective but not expensive, if the pirates started to cut through the metal it would not take them long and the ship could not afford to lose those right now. Eight lowered secondary bulkheads around the ship blocking off the main routes to engineering and the bridge. It would not hold them back for long but it would buy the other members of Starfire on the ship some time.

Even as he did this Eight tracked the locations of the various pirates making there way onto the ship. Krull had dutifully decided to slaughter the ones boarding from the breach on there deck however those weren't the only intruders on the ship. Eight patched himself into the Starfire comms that Krull and Johanna had.

"Krull, Johanna Hawkins, there are pirates approaching from the rear and aft sections of the ship. Two boarding parties comprising nine pirates each will reach your position in approximately seven minutes. Two doors down your corridor there is a storage compartment housing spar parts for the ship. They are contained in crates big enough to make decent cover. I suggest you deploy a number of them down both sides of the corridor. Krull, you're current tactic is effective but will not remain so. You're most prudent course of action is to throw a plasma grenade down the grappler shoot and run for cover." Eight looked at the advance of the pirates from other decks. "Five minutes."

Everything was quiet all of a sudden, the waves had subsided. Either the pirates were occupied with other parts of the ship or they'd wised up and knew better than to confront the Andalite version of Rambo head on. He swung the P90 around to hang from his back and drew a pair of shredders, which were more accurate when picking off individual targets. Two pirates jumped out of an alcove to the side and behind him, thinking they could take him by surprise. Without turning his body, Deraen swung an arm around and vaporized them in one smooth movement. <Come on, pirate scum, is that the best you can do?>

As he made his way down the corridor, mechanically picking off pirates as they appeared, Deraen took it upon himself to seal the doors behind him as well as the ones that led to the part of the ship where the anchors were locked on. The bridge would be safe, the only way to reopen the doors in an emergency lockdown would be to get clearance codes from at least two authorized personnel, and those personnel were safely out of reach. By the time he'd crossed the breadth of the ship, he had reached the power centers. Bodies sprinkled with bullet holes littered the floor.

Just as he stepped into John's line of sight, holding a hand up palm-out to signal friendly intentions, the elevator dinged. <The bridge and front sector of the Alamo are secure,> he said, pulling out another plasma grenade while keeping one shredder leveled at the elevator, <Any word from Babylon? They must be under attack as well. If our fighters manage to dislodge the anchors from us I may return to my own ship and join them outside.>

Johanna came rushing behind Krull, whatever pirates were lucky enough to evade Krull's onslaught met a sudden end as Johanna sniped them with her rifle, aiming for heads and chests when they came into her sights. She paused when she got Eight's message through her helmet. "Roger that." She responded, she went down the corridor, two doors down, and found the crates of spare parts. She began to push a crate back the way she came, despite her size she was a lot stronger than she looked and was making good time.

Between her and Krull, they managed to lay out a good number of crates on both sides of the corridor, certainly enough to make decent cover. It wouldn't be long before the enemy was upon them. Johanna readied a sticky grenade, as the first wave of pirates came roaring down the halls she chucked the grenade, it stuck to one of the pirate's chest as it began to blink rapidly. The pirate stopped in his tracks of course, struggling in vain to pull it off. It went off moment's later in a brilliant, blue explosion, killing the pirate and a good number of his comrades, sending the rest of them into temporary confusion as Johanna peered from around a crate and began to pick off the pirates one by one, systematically aiming and shooting each pirate in turn in rapid succession. So far so good, but Johanna knew better, there were a lot more coming.

John nodded as Deraen suggested taking his ship to help those outside. "Sounds like a good idea. I might join you, or I might just travel up one of these anchors and take the fight to these pirates," he replied. He looked down at the datapad on his wrist to check the Alamo's sensors. "Looks like our guys have already detached twelve of our anchors. Don't know about the Babylon unless I look out a window, though." The mercenary loaded a new clip of ammo into each of his weapons as he prepared for the next wave of enemies.

The elevator made a loud ding as the doors opened, pouring pirates out of the overstuffed space. Eleven. Twelve. Thirteen. Fourteen. Fifteen. Sixteen. Seventeen. John counted each kill in his head as he made seven, controlled shots. The other seven that had been inside he left for his Andalite partner to take care of with his own firepower. He made yet another face of disappointment, though it was still hidden beneath his helmet, as he approached the bodies and kicked one to make sure it was truly dead. "Elevator's too small, they can only come in small waves... How boring," he said to Deraen, his back still turned.

John turned to the numbered panel inside and began to form a plan. Crouching down, he began to push the dead pirates out of the elevator to lighten the weight, not at all bothered by their gruesome facial expressions or the gore. One finished, he stepped back inside the blood-soaked elevator and hovered his index finger over the button that would take him to the floors above. "You coming, Andalite? It'll be much more fun than staying down here. Especially if I'm slaughtering them all from the source."

Whether Deraen came or not, on the ride up, John would type a message to those in their fighter outside. Detach all but one of the anchors attached to the Alamo. I've got a plan. Afterwards, he'd send another message, this one to Starfire command and with Raptor Squad's current coordinates. May need support. If there are any nearby troops, please send quickly. As the elevator began to reach its destination, John unsheathed the machete on his back and unholstered the handgun on his right thigh. "Let's do this."

-=-=-

The Pirate Captain sat on his chair as he watched his small army be slowly dispatched by the band of mercenaries. "How can this be happening?" the cyborg yelled, his voice sounding more like a electrolarynx than a normal human voice. "You just had to kill eight or nine mercenaries and a few glorified mailmen and I- I mean we- would have more credits than we'd know what to do with. All that Oppenheimium that could so easily be sold on the black market, but these bastards had to get in the way. Well I'll show them! Send that robot we picked up from the last transport ship to kill those sons of bitches on the ship carrying the ore."

In this vast and cold world,
So many dig their own graves,
but only the fools jump in them.

One. The first needle was sent, seeking the target through the depths of space like an enchanted arrow seeking a flying sparrow. Slow and methodical, the Stormwarden seemed to drift above the frenzy of fighters and ships with Cy at the helm. In flight it was a beauty to behold, gliding effortlessly in any direction as if pulled on invisible strings. Without a visible propulsion system, it would seem to defy mechanics, although what direct its movements were electromagnetic fields generated by its onboard core and extended through its arching rays. It made itself push and pull itself through the vacuum of space by manipulating the attractive and repulsive forces around it radiated by everything. Making it far less predictable in movements, and far more fluid than anything which replied on propulsion systems. The design of the ship was definitely Valis in nature, using an extension of how the species naturally moved around outside of their vessels, and thus nearly impossible for other species to copy the technology and theory behind it. After all, while humans may have stolen the secrets of flight from the birds, it took then many centuries to get acquire something so simple.

Two, three, four. The next three hit their marks, clipping on to the wings of the pirate fighters. While the needles themselves did nothing to damage the fighters nor their flight capabilities, the shower of penetrating needles would be only the beginning as Cy watched the dogfight linger on. The others seem to be busy on the ground, but there were still a few dozen fighters out there, flying about it would be far better to destroy them all before the capital ship was destroyed. However, these were after all pirates, and thus there was a good chance that they would rather not destroy the Babylon and commandeer it into their fleet or sell it for parts. Although there was also a small chance of them decided to destroy both ships and blame the damage as collateral in the current political plights. Alternatively, given the state of affairs on Teta below, the pirates could be in leagues with the XRF, to raid the supply line. Either way, five, six, seven...

... Twenty five, twenty six, twenty seven, Out there on the fringe, hovering like a cloud, planting seeds for the gathering storm. The anchors on the Babylon would be next, however it would be far easier to take care of that in a more personal method. The best weapon after all is the enemy itself, like a parasite Cy would be able to hijack their ship, turning it against them, detaching their thin threads and burrowing them into their own ships. But for now, Cy was content on taking out their auxiliaries before committing himself to the mothership. Those who enter the eye of the storm, must prepare for losses. Thirty.

Now was the time to harvest. The tips of the Stormwarden crackled with energy at last, coils of electricity dancing across the length of the ship as it pulsed with a light-blue light. With a single flash of brilliance, the hammer was thrown and all the energy built up dispersed. Thirty bolts of space-lightning shot out from the Stormwarden, attracted to the needles which had silently began to siphon charge from the ships they latched on to. As life came to the Valis in a flash, so too would their deaths, in a burst of light. The same will be of those ships below the cloud, who were struck down by Zeus above as the wrath on high. Thirty pirate ships, stalled in space, all their systems downed. And yet they still began to move, closer together, towards each other, attracted to the supercharged needles which called out to their brothers. It would not be a good death, as the pirate inside found themselves subject to whims of the puppeteer as they drifted to the centre of the battlefield ignoring debris and other ships. Their life-support systems were disabled, and their weapons targeting out of luck. Communications nonfunctional, and emergency escape out of the question. It was only a matter of time, those who held on to their breaths long enough to face the judgment of the warden would see the light of death.

All targets assembled together, a pile of ships. Locked together in a feeding electromagnetic field, gathering the mass of metal prisons into a single target. It was time to terminate them as the second of the two charges shot out and fried them all to a crisp. Only fifty or so more to go. Recall the energized needles, drain them back into the core, and begin the next harvest. Repeat until all fighters were destroyed. The massive amounts of energy used would total a 15% loss, however energy return from targets was estimated to be about 0.5% returned. so all in all, an equal trade off. Not accounting for the lives lost, that is.

Jay had managed to get most of the fighters of his tail but one very persistent pirate kept chasing him, as he dodged it's weapons he saw Valian's ship and was about to contact him for assistance when a bolt hit the fighter behind him, he quickly found out it was Cy above them taking out fighters with his ships weapons. He was grateful for the assist of course but he silently wished that the team was a little more coordinated between them, they might be able to handle these pirates like this but fighting a more competent enemy such as XRF regulars, Imperial forces, or even the Illyrian armada might prove to much.

Regardless, with the fighter off of him he made for the anchors again with the intention of detaching the rest...or leaving one as John's message asked, though before he could, in a moment of terrible luck and timing he wound up between the Valis's ship and one of the fighters it was aiming at, the bolt went straight through his ship on it's way to it's target shorting most of his systems and sending him careening toward the pirate's cruiser, the effect wasn't as drastic as if he was the intended target and he got his forward shield powered back up before hitting the hull and breaking through. several pieces of debris and a few pirate crewmembers were vented out of the resulting hull breach before a secondary bulkhead closed to seal it.

Jay pulled himself up with a groan, grimacing at a pain in his side "just wonderful" he murmured, he tried contacting the others but found his comm unit was still dead. he sighed, pulled out his pistol and slowly climbed out of his fighter's cockpit, looking around for any of the pirates.