RX3248’s spaceport had not aged well. Initially meant to house a purely industrial complex, three terminals spread like spikes on a trident away from a series of landing pads that looked out over the moon’s dried out ocean. A control tower looked out over the port, piles of discarded machine parts stacked up against all four of its walls.

Originally a large open space adjacent to the largest terminal was set aside to store containers of Helium-3 ready for shipping. However with space at a premium and twenty seven years worth of refugees to house, it had been completely swamped by cheap housing units. Rectangular in shape, hundreds of them had been stacked in rows with metal staircases down to the ground. In the middle of this maze of prefabs was a larger community centre/canteen/whatever was needed area. In all the spaceport housed 70% of RX’s 40,000 strong population.

Now the Helium-3 shipments were kept at the place they were mined, and when ships were ready to be loaded they trundled down a funicular railway and straight through the centre of the colony. They trundled past the moon’s hospital, some of the permanent residences, a utility vehicle pool, the marketplace, the Colonial Administration and a mess of other buildings. The town had been arranged in a symmetrical semi-circular shape, but more ad-hoc buildings disrupted the open space which had been created, extending the feeling of a shanty town.

The Col-Ad building was where most of the important decisions were made. The colony’s Director maintained a small staff of administrators and representatives from other stations on the moon that helped to deal with the strain of people asking what was happening and trying to further their own cause. The lobby was always busy, with inadequate facilities and lack of space further exacerbating the perceived chaos of it all. The Col-Ad building ground floor was separated into around a dozen meeting rooms, with each having been partially taken over by wounded UWG personnel that had been left stranded after ‘Mdama fell to The Nomad.

Clara arrived by buggy, having hitched a lift with a couple of the science team who were making the journey anyway to requisition more lab equipment. They clanged up the few short metal steps to the Col-Ad entrance, making way for a gaggle of refugees taking a stretcher back to the hospital. They had been swamped with walking wounded and medical supplies were running dangerously low.

That UWG vessel in orbit better have some more. Clara thought as they walked through the doors and into the airlock. As oxygen flooded in, all three of them took off their spacesuit helmets, collapsed them down to a third of their regular size and clipped them to the back of their suits. Clara tapped personal assistant device on her wrist, opening a line of communication with RX’s director.

“James, its Clara. I need to see you now.”
“Oh, fuck off no it's too busy up here Clara. Don’t waste a journey, come see me once this UWG ship has touched down.

“Too late, i’m already here.”

“For fuck sake, alright come on up! I can spare you two minutes.”

When the communique came through that morning, there was a kind of collective stunned silence across the colony comms network. The war was over, but it was still nowhere near sinking in. There was a general feeling that there was still a lot to do before the moon’s own personal struggle was rectified. And then, only then, would people celebrate.

Clara agreed to meet her colleagues back at the buggy and left them in the line for the main reception desk. She zigzagged her way past throngs of people waiting for ration cards to take to the store rooms and showed her clearance to a pair of armed security guards. They let her into the central elevator, which whizzed her up four floors to the Director’s office. The doors opened to a waiting room packed with people. She could just about pick out Director James Ogilve in the middle of a mass of shouting people.

“I don’t have anything to tell you at this time, i will make sure that i get as many injured people up onto the ship to use their hospital! Please, let me do my job so i can help you do yours!” He shouted over the noise. He spotted Clara, and motioned her forward while making a general shooing motion with the other. “Everyone please make their requests and questions known to Yulia my assistant. Clara come with me!” As the crowd rounded on the small desk of a well built woman in her fifties to wave papers and data pads, James ushered Clara through the open door of his office.

The Director’s office was simple, with a few exotic pot plants and a view over the whole colony taking up an entire wall. Several administrators sat on the office’s two sofas, furiously tapping at portable workstations, blue and orange light bathed over their faces. Ogilvie sharply clicked his fingers at them and made the same shooing motion.

“Out please. Go and help Yulia.”

They packed up their stuff and jogged outside, closing the doors which dimmed the sound of the commotion outside.

James Ogilvie was a tired looking man. He wore a once-crisp white shirt which had a coffee stain down on the collar. Clara took a quick look around and judged that he’d probably been sleeping in his office. He sat on the edge of his desk and looked at Clara for a moment, scratching his stubble.

“Can i get you a cup of coffee?”
“No thank you, so what's going on? This UWG ship, the Scythian is it? It didn’t give any inclination as to why it's hot footed its way out here so fast. Only for us to monitor all comms channels. They only say that if there's some Navy politics going on and nobody knows whats happening.”

“How the fuck should i know? I saw the same message you did. They haven’t opened a comm line yet so i’ve been sitting here with my thumb in my ass, trying to keep everybody calm. People are scared and hungry, and this ship looks like their only way off this rock.” Ogilvie got himself a cup of coffee and handed one to Clara, who put it down on the desk. He took a big gulp, his left hand shaking slightly.

“What was that thing you were telling me about, before all hell broke loose this morning. Some kind of artifact? Is it valuable?”

“Yeah, i left it with Dr Gao. Its inconsistent with the civilisation whose ruins we’re digging up, which means they probably got it from someone else. Its unlike anything i’ve ever seen before, and its age seems to predate that of the original precursor civ in this sector which--”

Ogilvie’s personal assistant device chimed from its cradle on the desk. “Message from the spaceport control room Director Ogilvie.”

“Patch them through.”

“Director, the UWS Scythian is requesting permission to land.”

“Grant them access, request a comms line with their commanding officer.”

“What are you going to ask them?” Clara murmured, shifting forward in her seat.

“Why the Navy sent them to a forsaken moon light years from anywhere when there are worlds with hundreds of millions of people on the brink of collapse.” Ogilvie replied, reaching across his desk to grab an earpiece. He popped it in his ear and stood up, walking over to the bay windows looking out over the spaceport.”

“Good evening, allow me to introduce myself. I’m James Ogilvie, Director of RX3248. May we now know why you made it all the way out here? We didn’t request a Navy transport and i doubt we’d get one unless there was something here that you wanted.”

The Director didn’t appear to like the answer he was given. A few seconds past and Clara could see his eyes hardening even more. He didn’t believe what he was being told.

“Well i must say, that's a very efficient service you’re operating there. In that case, i will deploy personnel to help unload. Please make your way to my office when you are first able, one of my staff will show you the way.”

Unlike the majority of the crew aboard the Scythian, Loken was one of the few born on Earth. The rest were offspring of a hundred different moons, backwater planets or coreworlds. Humanity was so widely spread that aboard some ships, and in some regiments, it was difficult to find Earthborn servicemen. He still referred to himself as that; a serviceman. He had spent six years in the marine corps, fighting what seemed like an unwinnable war at the time. ‘Chasing worms’ is what they used to call it. He may not have worn the uniform anymore, or kept his rank, but what was he doing in the Intelligence service if not serving?

Aboard the Scythian he was pleased to have the chance to serve with marines again. They had been skeptical of him at first, a common thing among military personnel regarding spooks, but they warmed to him a degree when they learned he was a former marine himself. That was almost all the information he could divulge. His past career spoke volumes during their visit, board, search and seize manoeuvres. A few days prior, he, a few marines, and some of the ship’s security detail boarded a vessel acting suspiciously, and discovered it had been fleeing the system with illegally stowed supplies. In his daily report submitted to M (Mother), he had included a small paragraph on the event. The captain’s report to Fleet Command was far lengthier as it was more relevant to the navy than to intelligence.

Sat at his desk in his provided quarters in the officer section of the aft maindeck, Loken closed his computer and stowed it securely in the bulkhead. Sensitive information was sent to Command and wiped, but it never hurt to be careful with devices. Checking his watch he saw the time was 1300 zulu, meaning they were coming up on a small colony moon. It had been given an insufferably bureaucratic name; RX3248, just another number. Loken called it ‘Rex’ colloquially from the RX. Having made his way to the bridge, he found that the radio operator was already in the midst of communicating with the flight tower.

“Captain,” he began as he stepped into the conn. The captain looked at him from his chair and mumbled a greeting. Naturally, the commanding officer didn’t take kindly to having his vessel commandeered. His executive, a spry young woman with tied back golden hair, was the opposite. Loken had accessed the service files of all personnel aboard, and while the captain had been in the service for more than a decade, Lieutenant Kate McGregor, only eighteen years old, had completed her officership training at the naval college that same year. She was almost obsequious to Loken, and the bootnecks aboard joked that she was smitten with the ex-marine. She gave him a salute and smiled. “Welcome to the bridge, Loken,” she said joyfully. He responded with a nod and a smile. “Lieutenant.” The captain groaned and shooed her away from Loken. “XO, go oversee the comms,” said the captain, and the lieutenant dutifully followed orders.

“Agent Loken,” began the captain. He gestured to the screen in front of him. “We’re coming in to land shortly, as you can see. We’re the only ship in orbit, so there’s no interference, should be a quick arrangement.”

“Flight Tower, this is UWS Scythian, come in, over,” began the radio operator in the far side of the conn. It took a few moments for the civilian operator on the other end to reply.

“Scythian, this is RX3248 Flight Tower, we read you, over,” said the tower with some urgency. Loken supposed they had been half asleep when their call came in and had caused the operator to panic.

“We are requesting permission to dock and unload, over,” continued the RO. Loken nodded to himself. His input wasn’t needed for this portion of the procedure.

“Uh, wait one, over.” A full minute later came the response. The captain’s skin had been crawling under the supervision of Loken. “Scythian your permission to dock has been granted, and the Director requests a direct line with the captain of the vessel.”

“Patch it through,” began the captain. Loken shook his head. “No, not here. Captain’s quarters, just you and me,” he said. The captain obeyed and instructed the radio operator thusly. Loken instructed one of his team, a tall man with cropped hair like his own, to stand outside the door and to allow no one, even officers, into the hallway until the transmission was complete.
Loken listened intently as the conversation began between the captain and the Director, James Ogilvie. He stood over the captain’s shoulder and kindly directed the officer on what to say. “Director, this is Captain Landers, commanding officer of the Scythian in orbit. We read you.” He began a dialogue under the quiet supervision of the shadowy agent. In response to the question as to why they were in orbit, the captain informed the Director that the ship carrier medical supplies, food and clothes for the colonists in the wake of the war and the wounded crisis, as part of a humanitarian mission. It couldn’t have been further from the truth. There were no supplies aboard save for what the ship needed for the Scythian’s complement. The Director requested to see the captain in person, and Loken nodded to himself.

“... One of my staff will show you the way,” said the Director. “There’s no need, I know where the man’s bedroom is,” said Loken. “But I don’t,” replied the captain. “You’ll be staying here to oversee the wounded,” said Loken. The captain stood and faced Loken.
“He asked for me,” he said. “He did. But you aren’t going. Myself and half of my team are going, as well as a few marines to keep up appearances. The rest of my team are staying here to supervise,” said Loken. The captain opened his mouth to respond, but remembered the noose around his neck and sank into his chair. Loken nodded at him and turned to leave the room once the transmission had ended and waited for the ship to dock.

"We will begin decelerating from light speed. Since there is no artificial gravity well in the area, we can only hope that it will not jump straight into the disabled Nomad fleet."

Said the young navigator on the Scythian, who bore a concerning attitude at the precision of the jump. His worries were reasonable actually, as ships normally did not have to manually stop like this. They would freely jump into the outer rear of the planet's atmosphere, and the planet's gravity would decelerate them automatically, or they would have ships that can generate artificial gravity wells if the designated planet did not have gravity. But the UWG could not afford a ship like that, as around ninety percent of these ships were destroyed. Among the remaining ten percent, almost half were damaged, and required repairs. The reason for such statistics could not be simpler: the Nomad.

The Nomad, an unknown entity originated from a large desert planet, was the main cause of all the atrocities during the last thirty years. They were an organized space fleet, whose commanding elite was not yet known, possessing spaceships with sizes ranging from a small town to a megacity, all boasting with weapons of mass destruction. There was literally no way to stop them. They had more powerful weapons, they were more intelligent, and there numbers were overwhelming. They are stronger than the UWG in EVERY way. To be honest, being able to hold out against them for nearly 27 years was considered by many to be a great achievement. And yet, miraculously, they lost, while they were on the brink of victory. The strong Nomad fleet suddenly went offline, and they were doomed to float around listlessly. Now they were nothing different from a bunch of scrap metals floating in space.

"Decelerate faster. Better stop sooner than later."

Replied the thirty six years old Lieutenant Nelson Schor, the second in command of the ship. Donning a blue officer uniform decorated by a pair of golden epaulettes and all the medals he had achieved, the shaggy-haired man with a long scar on his right eye calmly gave the order to the navigator, as he tried to hide the dissatisfaction that he had within him.

"Tell the one in charge to begin preparations as accordingly as it was planned. Make the effort, we don't have spare time for this."

"Yes sir!" The navigator saluted as he left Nelson's personal quarter.

The young Lieutenant sighed as he watched the navigator file out of his room. He shouldn't be here. On this small, lowly cargo ship, as second in command. Second in command! He should have, at the very least, be first in command, not second. He had commandeered a small battleship before, so why not this?! He could not understand. What were the Naval Intelligence thinking when they assigned him to this?

Nelson was a young yet seasoned naval commander who had participated in several major battles against the Nomad, a few of them were victories. And yet, he did not take part in the final battle above Earth's atmosphere, as his sickly body decided that he should not by torturing him with a disease that effectively knocked him out of action for a whole year. He only recovered since last month, and was allowed to discharge five days ago. If he had been out three days sooner, then it would be different. Nelson soon returned to service, but was unsure if he could retain his rank as Lieutenant, so he contacted his friend, Alexander Mahan, who was a fleet admiral. And he met him, personally, a day later. Nelson could remember it very clearly.

XXX

"Alright Nelson, I have ensured that your rank will be reinstated...But on one condition."

Condition? Alexander had never made conditions with him before.

"That you would participate in an expedition in the Molyneux system, onboard the UWG Scythian, as its second in command."

The UWG Scythian?

That's a cargo ship. Why the hell would you send a military commander to command a cargo ship?

"What do you mean Alexander? You're assigning me to a cargo ship?"

"Yes." Alexander replied bluntly.

"Are you serious?! I don't believe that you would send me on such a mission!" Nelson suddenly snapped at the fleet admiral, totally disregarding the ranking systems here. If he wasn't his friend, Nelson would be likely in jail right now.

Alexander noticed his friend's dissatisfaction, and replied, with an unusually calm voice.

"Your beliefs are true. I did not send you there. The Naval Intelligence did. I was just being the interchange between it and you to deliver the order."

"Then you know what? I'm going to talk this out with them personally." Nelson was excruciatingly pissed, as he stood up and tried to leave.

"Nelson. Let me tell you something." Alexander stood up as well, stopping the impulsive Lieutenant with the same calm and composed tone.

"I know you deserve to be assigned more significant mission, but are you up to such a task?" The tone was also challenging and calculative

"Of course I am."

"Then prove that you are still worthy of not just being Lieutenant but also being a leader itself. Not to me, but to 'them'."

XXX

He still did not know how this will prove his worth. But as Alexander said that, his vanity resurfaced, and he found himself reluctantly accepting it.

Nelson sank back onto his chair as the scenarios began to unravel in front of his quarter's windows. Less than thirty minutes later, the ship had began to move into RX3248's orbit, and was awaiting docking permission.

"Well, there's no reason to stay here."

He's second in command. Not first. He was given more freedom of movement than his captain. And when given such freedom, there was no reason to stay behind. It, firstly, was boring. More importantly when placed in a commanding position where he must supervise, a commander should be right where the process was happening. This applied to all scenarios, both combat and non-combat.

Nelson stood up from his chair, and filed out of his room, heading towards the ship's boarding quarter.

Vokeera sat in the middle of the Protector training room, deep in the tik'naa. A state in which the Noxaara could communicate with their SEEM.

In the beginning, immediately after the merger, the SEEM operated more or less autonomously as per their programming. However with the changing of the generations and the deepening of the symbiosis between the two entities, the Noxaara developed a means for rudimentary communication with their SEEM. The purpose wasn't to dish out orders to the microbes. They didn't need orders. They had their programming. They would execute that in order to ensure the host's, and subsequently their own, survival. But as the symbiosis progressed the Noxaara felt the need to better connect with the new entity within them. Microbe or no. It was something worth exploring and the Noxaara were explorers.

Vokeera's eyes opened. "And so the diagnosis stands." Ro sighed. A next attempt to push the limits of the SEEM would prove fatal. "It was well worth it though." Vokeera stated simply, palming the Archangel Michael pendant. The one Melissa, Jack and Rodney had given Ro as a token of gratitude for saving their lives at the detriment of the Noxaara's own. Ro didn't quite understand the need for it. It was nothing more than any of them would have done, should they had the means. But still, Vok had grown attached to the piece and wore it always. And when that couldn't be possible Ro would produce a pattern of its likeness on the left chest plate with the SEEM.

Vokeera felt the lightest of touches on the nape joint, where the SEEM couldn't form a hard shell. Ro's rebreather hissed in frustration and disgust as Ro and the SEEM labored to block off the introduction of biologic DNA transmitters.

"Loneera!" Ro stood and glared at the newcomer. "Quit it, already!" Vokeera growled irritated. "I do not wish to have offspring with you. Why do you degrade yourself like that and disregard my whishes as well."

"You'll leave if I don't make you stay!" The other Noxaara almost yelled in a tiff.

Vokeera sighed. "Do you hear yourself?!" Ro's head shook from side to side, expelling the last of Loneera's biological procreative material as well as the attempt to be forcefully impregnated. Yet again! Vok took a calming breath. "If you have to make me stay, it won't work." Ro invaded the other Noxaara's personal space "It won't work regardless!" Vokeera hissed through the rebreather. "I. Don't. Love. You." Every single word was all but spat out.

Loneera was famous in Vokeera's social circles as the "aimless". It was a high insult among the Noxaara, who’s exploratory spirit rarely left them without some purpose and goal. Loneera was among the very few that did not have the drive or the fortitude to do something with their life other than attach themselves to a stronger more active person and leave them to carry the burden.

Well, it won't be me! Vokeera thought. If Loneera wants to be lugged on someones back, it won't be mine. "Just leave me alone, Loneera." Ro muttered knowing a fit would follow. Loneera was famous for the 'jilted lover' tantrums. But they were superficial, just like the Noxaara who threw them.

Loneera did not hesitate launching into expletives, insults, curses. Everything and anything held in the vast tantrum arsenal. Ro was not impressed. "Fine." Vokeera stated calmly. "Then I'll leave." Ro said and exited the Protector training room.

---

Following the unpleasant encounter with Loneera Ro started towards the home of the Protector's parents to say goodbye.

After the SEEM encased their hosts in a permanent bio-suit of sorts the Noxaara reproduction underwent drastic changes in comparison to what it was before. Prior to the merger the species had two dedicated genders for reproduction with the prerequisite reproductive organs and rituals.

All that had to change after the merger since the SEEM covered every inch of skin on the Noxaara. All external nerve endings that would be used during mating, the reproductive organs, everything. The Noxaara, for all intents and purposes, were permanently dressed with the SEEM as their eternal outer wear. The scientists who'd worked on the introduction of the SEEM within the Noxaara system had thought about that and had imprinted the microbes with a directive to start making changes within the species biological makeup as to adapt the reproduction method to suit the new symbiotic entities.

Of course some generations were needed for this to happen and there was a decline in the Noxaara population. But the SEEM were efficient workers and soon overcame the problem. The joint sections of the Noxaara outer new skin, though more vulnerable to harm, would also hold touch receptors and have the ability to transmit and receive a biological reproductive DNA packet. The embryo would develop for a short amount of time within the recipient of the packet, the elected 'mother', and would then be transferred to an artificial womb created out of the biological material of both parents, where it would finish its growth cycle until birth.

Though less personal, this method of reproduction did by no means lessen the emotional connection the Noxaara parents felt for their offspring. The Noxaara were gentle and nurturing parents, perhaps as a way to make up for not being able to carry their children within their own bodies until birth.

Ro's parents were no different. And Vokeera loved them dearly. They'd provided support throughout Ro's entire life. Offering advice when needed, or scolding when deserved. D'neera, the designated mother and Matuura, the other mother, Ro preferred to think of them as mothers, were of course sad that their offspring had decided to leave Noxaara space to live among the humans. Especially since, apparently, the Nomad threat was no more. They'd barely survived the sorrow of having Vokeera severely injured during the last battle. But no Noxaara dared deny another the freedom to follow their chosen path. And as Explorers both D'neera and Matuura were proud that their mostly Protector child had found something Ro wanted to explore.

"Don't be a stranger, whelp." Matuura'd given Ro a bearish hug, while D'neera had embraced Vokeera more gently and whispered a quiet 'stay safe, we love you'.

---

"O'rdeen Vokeera." A younger Noxaara called out to Ro as the Protector was getting ready to set off to the human systems. Ro sighed. Vokeera didn't mind the title, but felt it unnecessary. 'O'rdeen' wasn't a rank, like the humans would understand it. It was a standing among the Protector. By human standards it would be a relatively high standing, but the Noxaara didn't get hung up on ranks an titles. Most of the Noxaara didn't even know why they had them at all. Mostly for ceremonial purposes, Ro supposed. However the youngins would often get star struck and attached to accomplished older Noxaara and use their ranks and titles as a way to further the magnificence they believed their idol possessed.

Vokeera stopped and turned to look at the jogging youngin. Nutreen was a boisterous young Protector trainee Ro'd helped during the convalescence period with advice and whatnot. The Protector hadn't expected the whelp would imprint like this. "Nutreen, it's just Vokeera." Ro sighed. "We've discussed this. You don't need to use my title." The older Noxaara admonished gently.

"But... but you've earned it!" The youngin stated bewildered.

Ro sighed again. Nutreen was young and impressionable. It would take a few more years to realize that such formalities were utterly unnecessary while on the path. Be it Explorer of Protector. Nutreen would soon comprehend that, but right now it would be to no avail to dissuade the whelp.

"Yes, of course, you're right." Ro conceded with a soft smile within the SEEM helmet. "What can I do for you, youngin?" Vokeera asked. "Didn't we already say our goodbyes?"

The young Noxaara appeared flustered. Fidgeting nervously.

"Won't you reconsider?" Nutreen asked hopefully.

Vokeera dropped the luggage to the ground and approached the young one. "Nut..." Ro began gently. "We've discussed this. Your parents, and I agree with them, want you to train for a couple of more years before going off world on missions. The Nomad threat might be over, but there's plenty of danger out there. Don't be too quick to seek it out."

"But isn't that what a Protector does?" Nutreen demanded.

Ro's head shook from side to side. "Sweet young one, for you to ask me this proves you're not ready." Vokeera placed a gentle hand on Nut's shoulder. "A Protector should never seek out danger, but rather respect it, so that they will be ready if it should appear." Ro allowed a calming agent to secrete from the palm and seep into Nut's joints. It was a practice all elders used when raising their young ones. Heightened emotional states were detrimental to education. Children absorbed lessons better while in a more calm state. "I know you're eager. But train hard. Study harder and you won't feel the time pass you by. I promise." Vokeera's hand lifted off Nut's shoulder.

Nut appeared calmer, the fidgeting had stopped. "Yes, teacher, I'm sorry. You're right, of course. And we did agree it was not the time for me to come with you. Your path is your own to explore." The youngin finished, remembering the teachings.

Vokeera smiled. Nut was a bright Noxaara and had a future just as bright ahead.

"Very well said, young one." Ro complimented. "Now help this old relic load the luggage on the ship." The Protector bumped Nut on the shoulder playfully.

"Yes, teacher." Nut said and shouldered bags enthusiastically.

---

The small shuttle craft docked efficiently with the Noxaara space cruiser Sikteeran. The ship would take Ro to UWG space, where the Protector would meat up with the three remaining friends from their decimated platoon - Melissa Reinhardt, Jack Skullet and Barnaby "BB" Dunn.

Not a while ago Melissa had contacted Ro and told the Noxaara the three of them had found a job as relieve workers in the Molyneux system on a small moon with forty thousand or so inhabitants. The moon'd simply been designated RX3248. They would also double as additional security for some of the scientists stationed there upon their research outings. She'd offered Vokeera to join them.

Had Melissa not called, Ro would have travelled to UWG space anyway since the Noxaara wanted to continue living and working among the humans, whom Vok had grown to love and respect. Plus Ro found them to be a fascinating species with a culture worth exploring further. Vokeera was planning on offering to help the humans in any way possible to aid them in putting their world back together again after the devastating war with the Nomad. But Melissa's offer provided the Noxaara with a clear destination, not just a vague idea.

"Protector." Someone was shaking Ro awake. "We've docked with you're friends' transporter." A crew member of the Sikteeran explained.

"Thank you." Ro said and quickly gathered the luggage. A couple of minutes later and the Protector was a board a nondescript transport vessel that would bring Ro and the three humans to RX3248.

"Ro!" An enthusiastic shriek welcomed Vokeera aboard along with a fit brunette, who threw herself at Vokeera. The Noxaara braced for the flying hug. "Oh, my God, I'm so glad you agreed to join us!" Mel exclaimed after releasing her friend. "Hey, you're wearing it." She caressed the pendant hanging from Vokeera's neck. She grinned. "I thought you Noxies didn't put much stock in mementos." She teased.

Ro grinned within the SEEM. "We don't." The Protector answered in the same teasing tone of voice. "You humies must be rubbing off on me."

Mel answered by punching Ro in the shoulder playfully. "Come on, we've got a lot of catching up to do." She picked up one of Vokeera's bags and with her free hand grabbed her friend and proceeded to drag her forward.

"Where are the boys?" Ro asked.

"Oh, you know them." Mel grinned. "They're probably harassing some undeserving ensign. Let's put your stuff in my cabin and we'll go hunt them down and save the damsel in distress."

Fifteen minutes later they found Jack and BB trying to romance a woman who looked big enough to eat them both for breakfast and ask for seconds. She also looked royally annoyed.

"Just in time." Mel whispered. "She looks like she's about to unload on them." She hurried ahead to save her wayward friends from certain annihilation.

Ro liked Melissa. She was a loyal friend and a fierce soldier. She'd lost her partner to the war with the Nomad and fought like an avenging angel determined to make it pay for all the lives it had stolen.

"Excuse me, ensign." She began politely. "Do you mind terribly if I steel these two. A friend of ours has just come on board and we need to catch up." The female ensign looked like she wanted to hug Mel silly for rescuing her from the two male pests. She nodded curtly and added a brisk 'Yes, of course' for good measure. But by that time Jack and BB had total lost interest in her. They'd both turned in unison and shouting 'Vok!' had launched themselves at Ro.

The Noxaara grunted under the double bear hug.

"Release Ro, you silly oafs!" Mel began slapping them on the shoulders. She jabbed BB in the ribs and he let go with a rumble.

"More for me!" Jack exclaimed and redoubled his hugging efforts. But Melissa made short work of him too, grasping a handful of hair and pulling carelessly.

"Ow, Jesus, Mel. Leave some mane for the ladies to appreciate." He started rubbing at his scalp.

"Your bush..." She countered, referring to Jack's enviable wavy shoulder length hair. "Won't draw any attention from the ladies if you don't tend to it soon." She winked and stuck her tongue out.

"What do you know?!" He grumbled. "You don't appreciate men at all!"

"Oh, sweetie." She patted him on the cheek. "Don't be sad. Now come on. Lets take this alien here..." She slung her arm over Ro's shoulder. "And lets go catch up."

Some hours later, after they'd caught up and Mel'd filled Ro on the details of their new job, they all made their way towards the bridge.

"We should have begun our atmosphere entry by now." Mel mused. "Captain, what's the hold up?" She asked when they entered the bridge. The ship's commander looked at her, annoyance plainly visible in his features.

"Some cargo vessel with priority landing vector that's what."

"A cargo vessel with priority landing vector?" Mel and her fellow former soldiers exchanged knowing glances.

Transport vessel Soltis, you're clear for atmosphere entry and landing vector.

"Finally!" The Captain grumbled. "Strap down for atmosphere entry, people." He ordered.

Vok and the three humans hurried to comply. No more than an hour later they'd made planet fall.

"Ry! Ry! Wayfarer's Bridge is starting!" shouted one of the children excitably. Dalry calmed down, put down the carrot that she'd been chopping, and headed into the communal living room. In there were four children perched on the sofa, fervently watching the holographic monitor, as the local television channel for the planet that this moon and several others were orbiting was playing one of the most popular children's shows; Wayfarer's Bridge. It was a whimsical, semi-historical show about several children playing around in a fictionalised 23rd century village on Earth. It showed children before the days of neuro-stickers and total-immersion games, back when children went outside to meet up with each other and then get glued to their primitive entertainment ad communication devices called 'iphones'. It often made Dalry wonder if children still went outside on planets with atmospheres, or was that something that is truly dead now.

Just then, Dalry's buzzer beeped, and she took it out of her pocket and pressed the recall button. In her earpieces, she heard a message from her psychiatric evaluation officer reminding her of her appointment tomorrow, and sighed. She felt like she had been getting much better, less twitchy and more confident in herself since the last meeting a fortnight ago. The self-hypnotherapy was helping, but whaty helped more was being allowed to work like anyone else. She didn't even need the money. She had a generous UWLA pension, but sitting around feeling sorry for herself would be the worst thing she could do.

As she looked round at the four young faces, all glued to the monitor, she felt quite sad that this was the last day of her nanny contract for this group of families. With a yawn, Dalry got up and headed back to the kitchen. "Sorry, children, but I need to finish making the stew, otherwise it won't be ready by mealtime!"

---

Dalry left her psychiatric evaluation officer's office. That meeting was fairly painless. she'd just told him that she felt was improving, did some tests, a little bit of DT (deliberate triggering), discussed her hobby of food-growing in the bio-house. She did love to grow fruit and vegetables. She devoted a lot of time to her allotment. She would love to be a farmer, but they wouldn't let her near that kind of machinery or equipment with her condition. In fact, she was blacklisted from many jobs at this colony, which is why it was a surprise when her buzzer went off telling her of an urgent job. As many spare hands as they could gather; There was a large, very important ship docking tomorrow and they needed hands to unload the cargo. Dalry hopped in the first free transport and headed to the terminal dome.

Miranda gazed out of the window, enjoying a short break. Looking at the spaceport made her think of Adhara again. That chunk of volcanic rock may have been inhabited by a few thousands of scared miners and metalworkers, trying to leave before the Nomad’s fleets reached them, but with nearly thirty thousand hungry, scared or injured people, crammed into what was essentially a storage area, RX seemed to be even worse. Miraculously, the six days she’s spent on RX so far have gone by without any major incidents, although she has only been made aware of the colony’s general situation prior to her arrival and hasn’t bothered to catch up on the details yet.

When she arrived six days ago, the first thing she saw was a crowd of people held back by security officers who were desperately trying to explain that whatever supplies the ship brought will be unloaded and distributed among the people shortly. The people didn’t even seem to listen to them. As far as she knew, these incidents occurred every time a ship came through, but so far none have escalated to violence. It made her wonder why she was sent to RX in the first place. Did they expect more trouble? Or was she sent here because they knew it would mostly be an office job? She turned to her desk, currently cluttered with various reports. But one important file was missing. She started pacing around the office, looking at her watch. The Scythian was due to land in less than an hour, but someone at customs forgot to send her its cargo manifest. She thought it was merely a clerical error, but when she asked the head of customs about it, he said he thought they skipped him and sent it to her directly. She was tempted to ask the administration, but given the swarms of people that flocked to the Administration building, she was reluctant to contact Director Ogilvie as he probably had his hands full.

Whether this was just an error or something shifty happening, it didn’t matter. Either way, there was a ship on its way and no one here seemed to know what it was carrying. She stopped walking back and forth and sat down. Nobody knew what was on board and that could be problematic. Even if nothing happened concerning the Scythian or its cargo, someone could still use that as fuel for their argument if something happened in the future. She could imagine Major Jankowski as if he stood right in front of her: ‘Look at the Scythian! They let them dock without any security checks! Who knows how many others got a free pass to RX3248 and what cargo they brought with them?’. Maybe she was just paranoid, and definitely negatively biased towards Jankowski, but in such a scenario, this could be used against any member of the administration, customs or security.

Aside from this predicament, there was a minor annoyance in the form of a dozen or so requests by the local Apis tribe to be granted permission to go out and salvage the Nomad fleet hanging in orbit. That was another thing she was not about to let happen if she could. She still remembered what it was like. The reports they received while stationed on Proxima III as the Nomad and its hounds approached still haunted her. Than the sky lit up and command channels fell silent. Her PAD beeped, announcing an incoming message.
“Chief, this is Solothurn, customs. The Scythian is about to land. I figured you might want to ask a few questions. I’m heading there right now.”
She reached for the device and started picking herself up.
“Thanks, Dave, I’m on my way. See you there in ten minutes.”

In one of the few currently occupied pads in the spaceport sat the Rapid Evening, several tones of metal that were somehow space worthy. Within this ship, in a room originally intended to be a common room for a human crew, was the beating heart of the Apis tribe who called the ship home. Appropriately for a tiny race like them that beat was lightning fast, to ears of equipment capable of hearing it the room thrummed with the rabid endless chatter of the Apis, a wall of sound that pulsed rhythmically at a dizzying pace. The room itself had been converted from its original purpose to something that looked like a senate room, rows upon rows of tiny seats set in a circular pattern around a central space. That space was occupied by the controls of the ship's communication array.

The array was something that would have looked more at home on a military intelligence ship than on a cargo ship, capable of punching through almost any interference and handling an excessive volume of communications. To become separated from the collective was akin to death to the Apis and so to ensure constant communication each one was equipped with a small communicator just above their wings, where it picked up signals from their wings and allowed them to be transmitted beyond the naturally auditory range. All those signals came here, to the heart, and every Apis could hear what was discussed within. From the Liandry pilots currently being paid to construct additional housing, to the small swarm out hunting for supplies, to the diplomatic party who had effectively lived in the Col-Ad since the nomad fleet shut down, to the 4 Apis squads watching each of the other landing pads so they could get a close look at the Scythian’s arrival, they all listened instinctively to the heart as it schemed and pondered as to how to take advantage of the current situation. To ensure the survival of the tribe and the prosperity of the species.

Their primary interest at the moment was the nomad fleet above. It was a treasure trove, an entirely intact nomad ship would have been a prize in and of itself, but an entire fleet? The things that could be learned from dismantling the ships or the possibility of reactivating one of them under their control where tantalizing prospects.

However to get there they needed permission from the colony administration to go there without the risk of taking fire from the planetary defenses. However with the general chaos that had come with the destruction of the primary planet in the system had left the small moon based colony reeling and they were understandably busy with the resulting humanitarian crises to deal with the Apis’s requests for salvage rights of the fleet. The security personnel themselves were seeming deliberately unhelpful, Chief Nero had been adamant in her refusal to even discuss the prospect of letting them leave when they went to her. As a result there was little they could do legally without waiting for the situation to calm down.

It had not gone beyond their attention that the UWG vessel had arrived in the system, a secondary advantage of such a sophisticated array was its ability to detect and attempt to parse non Apis signals like the ones that had gone between the arriving ship and the control tower. There was hope that it would alleviate the current crisis somewhat if supplies had been brought, and let proper discussion about what to do about the nomad fleet to begin. If supplies had not been brought then the Eclipse were currently in the process of drafting a proposal based on the fact that the Nomad used slaves, and those slaves needed food and, depending on the malevolent machine’s pragmatism, medicine. Things the colony was desperately in need of.

Once it was discovered where the ship was landing a swarm was organised and sent out with the Crab lifter and a Liandry to assist with any unloading that might need, mainly to ensure that the eclipse were considered when it came to rationing of those supplies. The large mechanized vehicle clanked its way across the distance to the landing pad with surprising speed, the large 4 armed mecha Knuckle-walking along beside it and a small swarm of Apis hovering above. They joined up with the observation crew, who hovered over and settled down on top of the crab with their tiny binoculars, and then the whole lot of them awkwardly joined the crowd of humans also waiting to see what the ship had brought.

Nippikin opened his eyes, looking through the green blur of his tank. He felt the pressure of his sleeping enclosure, consistently pulling him toward the bottom. Nippikin thought about his Education Cave for only a second, but snapped himself out of it. He didn’t have time to reminisce today, medical supplies on the moon colony RX3248 were running dangerously low, and without his help in the local camps, people could die.

Nippikin swam up to the surface of his tank, his tentacled body floating to the surface like a knife through butter. He reached up with his sticky appendage and released the latch on his sleeping enclosure. Nippikin stuck to the outside of his tank, reached out toward his environmental danger reduction apparatus, and climbed in. Stretching his tentacles through each arm, and placing two through the legs, he took on his biped form. Standing nearly 8 feet tall, it had become clear during his time on RX, that the haphazardly built refugee colony wasn’t built for people his size. As he left his nearly empty, windowless corridors, Nippikin picked up his medical supply bag, and ducked under his automatic door.


Nippikin made his rounds through RX. In his short time here he had taken on about 200 clients, all with varying conditions, and had treated more than 400 total. He had made somewhat of a name for himself in the shanty like town, especially in Terminal 3. An elderly Human woman approached him from a local housing unit. This particular unit had appeared to have taken damage in the recent past, and was clumsily patched up.

“Hello Mam, how can I be of service?” Nippikin said, his metallic translator echoed.

“Dr. Zek please it’s my granddaughter, her breathings so shallow… I don’t know what to do, the hospital is so busy and has been turning people away I…”

Nippikin held his tentacle out pointing in the direction of the woman’s building.

“Please show me the way.”

The woman, 70 in age at least, wrinkled skin, white hair, hurriedly rushed the doctor down the crowded hallways of the unit. It was clear that many people had been using the halls as sleeping quarters, as cots were dotting the walls. Some people lounged around the hall, at least one who seemed to have a case of Blorlick Lip. Nippikin took a mental note to treat this on his way out.

The elderly woman walked through a door and Nippikin followed. The room was full of humans who looked at the doctor with worried eyes. On a bed in the corner was a young girl, no older than 4 with brown hair. Nippiken could see that her breath was shallow, and she had developed black circles around her eyes. He quickly opened his kit and pulled out a long needle.

“Please look away family. I’ve been told this is traumatic.”

The doctor quickly inserted the needle into the little girls left eye socket and pulled, a strange purple liquid came out of the syringe as the family gasped.

“Has she been playing with a Lunarean child?” the doctor questioned.

A woman in the corner spoke up “there’s one in the building and they all play together why?”

“At her young age, she is susceptible to a rare infection caused by Lunarean mucus. It’s likely that she touched it and then made contact with her eye.”

Nippikin picked out a small vile from his case, and injected the filled syringe into it sucking up its contents as well. The two liquids quickly mixed together turning into a clear substance.
“It would be to her benefit to drink this once per hour.” He said as he squirted the solution into a small cup from the floor with his third tentacle.
“She will live.”


Nippikin left the building shortly after helping the girl as well as the man with Blorlick Lip. He couldn’t help but notice a large craft in the sky, some type of military vehicle. But, he was unsure, only hopeful that it carried supplies. He continued his rounds and ran into some civilians who were carrying a stretcher back to the hospital. He offered his hands to help as he was going that way to meet a friend,
. Mia, a human nurse who worked at the hospital. She was very nice to Nippikin and even ate a Gulin Slug with him once.

He couldn’t help but to notice many officials making their way to docking, especially a young brunette with stunning human eyes in UWG garb. She looked upset, but he wasn’t the best judge of human emotion, and she didn’t appear to need psychiatric services, so he continued on. Yet, he kept getting an uneasy feeling. Like something was about to happen that would change his day, but that was irrational, so he forgot about it and continued to the hospital.

Natalia felt the ship drop out of FTL with a lurch and the sound of creaking metal. It was one thing jumping from one system to another in a Navy vessel. It was another entirely to do it in a merchant ship. It wasn't unlikely that the FTL drive had largely been left unmaintained, especially during the war. These ships were mostly used by volunteers to take people and supplies from one system to another, since the Navy could barely spare their own assets. It wasn't unlikely that this ship had been constantly running for over a year at some point during the war. Who knew how hard the last two and a half decades were on it?

"Alright Lynx, this is your stop," came a voice over the shipboard radio.

"I told you not to call me that," she replied, flicking a few switches in her own interceptor, preparing to undock from the shuttle bay.

"Well you are a war hero, after all."

"Yeah, and I have a name. It's Natalia." She turned on the reactor of her ship, hearing it spool up and seeing the fighter's systems come online one by one. The communications system came online after a short moment, and she was able to connect to her bank account and transfer her payment to the owner of the freighter. "I've wired you your payment for the transport. I'll be undocking shortly."

"Yeah, yeah, let me just confirm the transaction real quick..." Natalia couldn't help but feel that this man was going to try something. He had seemed seedy when she first contacted him, but his was the first transport to the Pollux system, and the last one for at least a week. She needed work and had heard that it was in need of some extra hands. On top of wanting to help with that, she had heard that one of her former squadmates was already there.

"You know, I don't think this is enough."

Natalia got a really bad feeling about the way he said that. "Well, I'm looking at the contract right now, and it says 'in consideration of 1000 credits' and that is what I sent you." She began to manually divert power to more critical systems; some of which were still coming online. In the process of doing so, she saw a small ship pass in front of the bay. She had a hard time telling at a glance what, exactly, it was, but it looked like a fighter.

"Yeah... well... you see, I'm a businessman, and an opportunist. I found a much better deal from someone with a lot more money than you."

The fighter appeared again, this time stopping near the opening to the shuttle bay, along with two more, each one a different type. And they were all pointing their weapons at Natalia's. Motherfucker.

"Listen up you son of a bitch, you obviously know a thing or two about me, so I want you to think long and hard about what you're about to do."

"I know exactly who you are, and I know the risks. I also know that you'd make a great prize for a crime lord. Anyways, unless the next thing you're going to do is show me your tits or something, I-"

Natalia cut her comms at that and immediately got to work. She diverted all power to her forward shields and thrusters and prepared to make a hard burn out of the freighter. It would hurt, but her ship could pull free of the docking clamp.

"Now now now, Lynx. I don't think you're in any position to-"

"I am Lieutenant Natalia Aprilia of the New Odessa Knights, and you clearly don't know who you're messing with, but I am more than willing to show you if you don't disengage and break off immediately!" she ordered, preemptively targeting the biggest of the fighters. At that, the pirates began to open fire. She knew they weren't going to try to kill her unless it came to self defense, but she couldn't afford to have her shields drop. She threw her thrusters to max power and began to pull on the docking clamps. It didn't take long for them to give, launching her ship out of the shuttle bay and almost into one of the pirates. She turned around and diverted more power to her weapons. "You asked for it," she said, launching a volley of missiles and blaster bolts at her target. Every single shot hit it's mark, inflicting massive damage.

"You've barely touched me with your shitty lasers. I would have thought an outfit like you lot would be more prepared," she mocked, delivering a final blow with her particle cannons. The ship exploded, causing the other two to split up and try to attack her from two angles. Natalia shifted her shields for all-around defense, but realized they were already down to 40%, and with them not being as focused it wasn't unlikely they were going to fail at some point soon. Her ship took a couple of hits as she turned to one of the other aggressors. "God dammit," she muttered. She targeted the light fighter as it was closing in on her and fired a shot from her Gauss cannon, punching a hole right through the cockpit and killing the pilot.

The final offender was still feeling like he could take her, and actually managed to get her shields down and start inflicting hull damage. Systems began showing status warnings as she turned to him and let loose a string of shots from her blasters, bringing his shields almost completely down. Her missiles were locked, but still reloading, so she tried to maneuver around behind the ship, but found that this pilot may have actually know what he was doing. She got hit a couple more times, damaging one of her thrusters and rupturing a power conduit leading to her port side blaster, leaving it without power. "Fucker," she turned and regained missile lock, just as her missile rack was fully reloaded. She fired more missiles and laid into the ship with her remaining blaster until it finally exploded.

"Fucking pieces of shit," she muttered. She was about to turn her attention back to the freighter and attempt to disable it. Unfortunately for her, it had already aligned and accelerated away, leaving her ship and the husks of the other three fighters sitting there. Natalia took a long, deep breath and brought her hand to her face. "It's been 8 days, and we're already back to our old ways, huh?"

---

The full diagnostic of Natalia's ship revealed moderate damage to most of the ship. Few of the major systems were badly damaged, with the exception of one thruster, and the aft-side power conduit, which also lowered the ship's overall shield capacity to 83%. She had almost forgotten about the damage done by burning out of the docking clamps, and it had caused the thrusters to overheat, resulting in all of her thrusters operating at 78% efficiency, and the top of the ship's hull received some damage from physically tearing away from the clamp, resulting in her comms and sensors being damaged, leaving her unable to make any long-range broadcasts or to make any long-range scans of the surrounding area.

"Fucking pieces of shit; I can't believe I trusted that little rat," she muttered, pulling up navigation to find out where exactly she was. Thankfully it wasn't interstellar space, or she would pretty much be dead. She was within warp distance of a planet, but with her ship in the shape it was in, the computer couldn't tell what system it was. There was a planet not too far away, and she figured that was the best place to start. Worst case scenario, she was trapped in an uninhabited system with no life-bearing planets and doomed to starve.

This did not turn out to be the case as her ship dropped out of warp near the planet. Her navigational computer was finally able to recognize the system as Molyneux and the planet as Ha'Mdama. What was left of it, anyhow. It was, of course, scorched by the Nomad and completely devoid of life, but her comms managed to pick up some garbled radio traffic not far away. She switched to directional comms to help pinpoint the source, which turned out to be a moon, as yet unnamed, evidently. RX3248. She began to accelerate towards the moon and continued listening to her comms until things became clearer. It took nearly an hour to close the distance, and only a couple of other transmissions were made in that time. But finally, one came through clear enough to be understood.

"...this is UWS Scythian, come in, over,"

"Scythian, this is RX3248 Flight Tower, we read you, over,"

"We are requesting permission to dock and unload, over,”

"Uh, wait one, over."

Well then, this was interesting. A Navy ship, out here? How convenient for Natalia; possibly she could hitch a ride with them, and potentially even get some repairs.

"pan-pan, pan-pan, RX3248 tower, this is independent interceptor Northwind Tempest, please respond." She waited a moment, but received no response. Perhaps they were ignoring her. Though, in all fairness, it was more likely that her transmitter may not have been working properly.

"pan-pan, pan-pan, RX3248 tower, I repeat, this is independent interceptor Northwind Tempest, please respond." Another moment passed with no response. She let out an exasperated sigh and ran a diagnostic of her communications system. She was still able to receive without a problem, but it turned out that her transmitter had lost power, and no auxiliary power relays existed. She still had an emergency transmitter, but it had a very limited range. She switched to it and tried to divert extra power to it to see if that would work.

"pan-pan, pan-pan, RX3248 tower, this is the interceptor Northwind Tempest, please respond." She hoped this time the message would get through. It was probably still not too clear, but she needed to establish radio contact.

Hark stood stood at the bridge with his arms crossed looking at the small moon that they were going to dock at. He still couldn't fathom what a bunch of agents from the Naval Intelligence community would want with this small seemingly desolate moon. However, Hark didn't really need an explanation he wasn't there to ask questions after all, just point and shoot when the occasion called for it. He noticed the agent called Loken, who seamed to be the one calling the shots, come up to the bridge. He was greeted by the seemingly over-joyed lieutenant before she was shooed away by the captain and the pair left to private quarters.

'Maybe the rumors were true' Hark thought to himself. Hark and most of the other marines who were aboard the ship were fond of Loken. He was a former marine himself and unlike many of the officers on board the Scythian, he didn't treat them as if they were just a bunch of dumb jar heads. But what really gained Loken acceptance among the marines was his skill and leadership when they conducted a VBSS mission on a freighter.

It wasn't more than 5 minutes before he heard the voice of the Gunny Sargent in his earpiece, "Attention, all marines are to report to the armory immediately for briefing." Hark turned and headed over to the elevator to go down 2 levels to get to the armory. As he aproached the elevator a fellow marine, Tremper, also was approaching. He was clearly awoken from a nap and didn't seam too happy with the briefing.

Hark and Tremper arrived at the armory where most of the other marines and the gunny where waiting for them. The 10 marines were divided into 3 teams of 3 with the gunny floating around to whichever team needed him. After a few minutes the last marine, Holly, arrived and took a seat next to Hark.

"Alright marines listen up," The gunny started, "We'll be docking soon at RX3248 very soon and the naval intelligence agents have requested that they have marine support too keep the presence. Alpha and Bravo teams will go with the agents while Charlie team will remain here to guard the ship while it unloads whatever the hell its carrying. I'll be remaining here with with Charlie team so Alpha and Bravo I better not get word you jackoffs were giving the Naval Intelligence officers any trouble." He looked around the room at each of the rooms before finishing, "Dismissed!"

"Oh hell yes!" Hark exclaimed next to him, "We can get of this tin can and stretch our legs." She was clearly excited to be going out with the Officers. Hark and the rest of the marines got up and went to gear up for their upcoming mission. Her put on his combat uniform, bullet proof vest, loaded in 6 rifle mags of 50 rounds, 8 pistol mags of 30 rounds each, knee pads, sheathed his KA-BAR knife, put on his helmet, and strapped into his exo-suit and powered it on. He moved his arms and legs and did a few squats to make sure it was working properly. Once the marines were all geared up they got into a single file row and walked to the weapon stand where the gunny was handing out their rifles and pistols with a test mag for each.

"I bet i'll nail more bulls eyes than you two lug heads" Holly challenged Hark and Tremper. "Not a chance," Hark replied. They made their way to the improvised shooting range they had made in the back of the ships cargo bay to make sure their sights were zeroed.

The marines were quick to drop their rounds down rang and then gathered around the gunny for a few last minute words and prayer. "Remember men even though we have no clue what the hell kind of a mission these Naval agents have going on here I am almost certain it of great importance and we gotta represent the corps well here because we don't whats at stake here. However, I have no doubt on my mind you fine marines will do your best and get shit done. Oohrah!" As the gunny finished his talk a silence engulfed the marines as they anxiously awaited the Naval Intelligence Officers.

“Are you out of your mind?” demanded the captain. Loken looked at him blankly. The captain had an unenviable job in the next couple of hours. The Scythian had landed and the marines had been instructed to gear up and await Loken's team by the unloading ramp at the stern of the ship. “We don't have enough food to feed the entire colony!” he shouted. “We have enough for the ship's complement for a few months, if we feed even a quarter of the colony we'll have nothing.”

“We're not an aid ship. Do what you can for them, but we're both aware that you can't help everyone,” said Loken. “Half of my team will be on hand to assist you should anything awry occur. My team won't be long.” Loken dismissed the captain. He straightened his tunic and left Loken's office, seething.

Less than half an hour later Loken, and two of his officers; a tall blonde woman with her hair tied back, and a fairly short, but broad man with a shaved head and aviator-type sunglasses, appeared at the unloading ramp. Each agent wore civilian clothes, with armour-plated vests. Agents Black, and White, the man and woman respectively, wore navy blue shirts and dark trousers tucked into black boots. Loken wore a black military pullover. He tapped the commbead in his ear and spoke to the marines with him in the loading bay.
“Lauras, comm check. You reading me?” he said, pointing to one of the heavily armed marines. “I'm assigning you men a callsign; Falcon. Alpha team is Falcon One, Bravo is Falcon Two. My team and I are callsign Raven. Once we're down there I'll be in frequent contact.” He checked his rifle, pistol, and those of his team, and gestured to one of the crewmen in the bay to drop the loading ramp.

A small crowd had gathered to watch the ship land in the port. Word would soon pass that the navy had brought relief as the seamen began unloading a few boxes of medical supplies and food, clothing and emergency equipment for the wounded. Loken gestured with a hand signal for the two marine teams to follow him. His agents flanked him as they made their way down the ramp onto the concrete ground of the port. The lowering of the ramp had kicked up a lot of dust that lingered in the air and obscured their sight until they had walked a few paces through it. Then, part of the colony was revealed. It wasn't a huge place, but it had substantial structures and communications equipment in sight.
The port tower was to their side, the operator either busy at work or half asleep again now that they had landed. Some of the colonists eyed Loken and the armed men and women with wariness, noting their armour, exoskeletons and rifles as they walked back on the way to the administration building past the port and into another district of the colony. Most of the colonists were scientists, clerks and pencil-pushers. Some of them had seen war, but almost none of them had fought in it. Loken ignored them and trudged by as they began swarming to the ship. One of the petty officers aboard the ship brought some lightly armed seamen and began organising the crowd into a queue, keeping an eye on them and making sure it didn't devolve into a food riot.

“Ok, marines,” began Loken, raising his voice over the din of the colony. Crowds of people rushed past them, chattering about the ship. They had made their way to the colonial governor's workplace, a sprawling building of multiple floors. “Take a break outside, one man posted on the front door, the rest of you hurry up and wait,” he said, ending his sentence with an adage the marines loved to use. “Shouldn't take long.”
He made his way into the building and immediately distraught. There were lines of wounded navy and marine personnel along the hall ways, and entire rooms were full of wounded, dying and deceased. A nurse scurried by and Loken grabbed her arm. She looked at his rifle warily.
“Nurse, what's your situation here? I'm with the navy.” She caught her breath from rushing around, and the suddenness of being pulled aside.
“We've got at least thirty wounded military personnel, some navy, some marines. Twice as many civilians, including children. We're running out of supplies, everything from food to gauze and thermal blankets. The wounded are starting to die.” Loken nodded to himself and tapped his commbead.
“Falcon, this is Raven One, send in your corpsman to the ground floor of the building. We have a lot of wounded marines in here need looking at, do what you can. Radio the ship, tell them to send a coxswain and medical supplies here on Raven's authority.” He thanked the nurse and went back to his duty, every moment was critical.

Ascending the wooden stairs to the director's office, a number of security personnel swiftly got out of the way of his team, having been informed that military personnel would be in the building. Loken caught the attention of the receptionist outside the office. “Director Ogilvie is expecting us.” The woman looked up at him and glanced at the team's rifles and swallowed.

“You're the commander of the navy vessel?” she asked.

“In a manner of speaking.” She buzzed the office behind her. “Sir, the navy officers are here to see you,” she said and nervously gestured towards the door. “Black, stay by the door. White, with me,” he said and stepped into the large office room, cluttered with papers and what looked like wine bottles on the windowsill in the corner. Director Ogilvie stood with alarm as he saw an armed man and woman step into his office, both of whom were taller than him, and loomed over his desk.

“Director James Ogilvie,” he began. "I'm Agent Loken, this is Agent White. Outside your office doors is Agent Black." Agent White moved to flank the door and leaned against the wall. Loken noticed a woman in the room and acknowledged her. “I understand you have uncovered something of potential interest to the United Worlds Government. I'm here to review and investigate your discovery.”

The landings on the RX3248 was smooth and soft, to the point that Nelson did not even feel it. He paced down the hallway leading to the loading ramp, his blaster pistol holstered on his right hip. There, the navy personals and marines were already up to their task, unloading the cargo and maintaining crowd control. And they were doing it very well. Nelson could feel that his role as second in command meant almost nothing here.

Nelson casually paced across the working military personals, only motioning his hand to at ease those who saluted him after they noticed him, down to the treacherous dirt of the small moon. The crowds who were swarming the ships suddenly drew all their attentions to the young Lieutenant. Most were curious and slightly cautious due to the various military epaulettes and medals decorated on Nelson’s uniform, which pretty much satisfied Nelson’s needs for attention. A few actually recognized him, as he had appeared in the public a few times in his military life, namely after the battle of Rantost and the battle of Archamila, where he both showed a significant role in the fight against the Nomad.

Nelson moved to the building ahead of him, what seemed to be the planet’s infirmary, and, by instinct, immediately covered his nose, as the smell of blood, sweat mixed with alcohol and contaminated sterility charged up into his lungs. There were woundeds everywhere, on beds, on chairs and even on the floors. There seemed to be at least two dozens of them, in a small-sized building. The nurses and doctors were struggling to handle with them.

Such a horrible sight. Even for the seasoned and battle-experienced Lieutenant like Nelson

“Excuse me, ma’am.” Nelson called for the nearest nurse. “Do you mind reporting the current situation here? How many woundeds, how many deads?”

“Uuhhh…” She was a bit flustered as she was suddenly called during work, again, by yet another strange man. But as soon as she saw the medals, she somewhat knew that he was someone high rankings.

“There are currently over thirty woundeds, but they are all dying. We have lost over ten personals already.”

“Civilians?”

“No, mostly naval cadets and marines, sir. We are out of supplies and are awaiting refill. The marines will be carrying them over soon. But we don’t have enough place to tend all of these men.”

“Hmm…I see.”

With all these men lying on the floor like this, there was little point in tending them. This wasn’t a very clean place either. It was situated on a poor, dusty planet with not very well maintained infrastructure. These guys needed a better place for treatment. And if they weren’t given the suitable place in times, their wounds would be infected, and they would die like those ten personals.

“In that case…” Nelson pulled out a blank card, and write by simply swiping his finger on it. He spent a few seconds writing something and then concluding by signing his name on it.

“Check if anyone has died. If there are, then move them outside for more spots. If there are still not enough, then you are authorised to use the lower cargo bays of our ship. We are unloading, so there should be a few spots for you to use” Nelson handed the nurse the card that he just wrote on. “Give this to anyone who asks, they will know what to do.”

“Thank you so much!…uhh…” The nurse paused to ask for his name, or his rank.

“Lieutenant Nelson Schor.” He decided to give her both. “Oh, and do not send in civilians. Only military personals.”

The captain would kill him if he let civilians on the ship freely.

“Alright sir. Thank you again.”

Nelson turned away from the nurse and left the infirmary in quick haste. He had got to leave fast or else he would be sent home with a transfuse kit, like last time. He wouldn’t want that to be repeated. Ever.

It appeared that everything was going according as planned, aside from the previous incident. Nelson decided to head to the control tower, so as to grasp the traffic of area around the planet directly.

As Nelson opened the door leading to the control tower, the officers there, some were half-asleep at the moment, all bolted up in salute to the Lieutenant. Nelson raised his hand to put them at ease and began trotting to the one who was apparently in charge of the tower.

“Good day officer. Report on the current situation.”

“Yes sir. The sky above the moon RX3248 is clear today, aside from the disabled Nomad fleet, of course.” He tried to put in humours into it, but then onto the main part of the report.

“Except…”

“Except?” Nelson asked.

“Except for one small spacecraft, which we have recently detected. It has also been trying to contact us, but we have yet to respond.”

“Well then do it.”

The officer immediately complied.

“This is tower RX3248.” He called for the unknown spacecraft. “Report your vessel’s current status.”

@TheMadAsshatter

Nippikin approached the infirmary. It was clear that he found himself near the ship he had seen earlier, and there were many people crowding around. The officers were forming them into lines and appeared to be handing out supplies. He saw a small stack of supplies being carried out by hand and knew that it would not be enough for the desolate moon.

“Thanks for the help Doc, that stretcher was pretty cumbersome.”

“You are welcome young man.” Dr. Zek said “Please excuse me, I must see my acquaintance.”

Nippikin walked through the automated doors of the infirmary. The sight hadn’t improved from the previous day. Nippikin looked around for Mia, eventually catching her by her bright blonde hair. She was busy checking a young marines vitals as Nippikin approached.



“Hello Mia, it’s me Dr. Zek.”

Mia smiled slightly and spoke without turning around “Hi Nippy. I’ve told you, I can recognize you by your voice. You don’t need to tell me it’s you.”

“Oh yes. I apologize.”

“You also don’t need to apologize.”

Nippikin looked at Mia in confusion. He still didn’t fully understand human conversation, and was unsure if she was joking or was sincere. He decided to change the conversation.

“There is a ship with supplies outside.”

“I know, officials keep coming up to me and asking questions. I’ve been given permission to put military personal in the lower cargo bays of that ship so we can make some room.”

“Oh, that is helpful. May I assist you?”

“Umm of course. Could you check to make sure that group is stable enough to be transported.” She pointed to multiple stretchers with military personnel on them.

"Yes. And then we can get you lunch.”

“Thanks Nippy.”

Nippikin walked over toward the group. He had dressed some of their wounds the day before. They had all been part of the fight against The Nomad just weeks earlier. The ship was severely damaged, including life support. The groups had been with extremely low oxygen for more than 14 hours, and were all currently comatose with internal and external wounding. He checked their vitals one by one, no large changes since the day before, they seemed like fitting choices for the ship’s cargo bay.

“They are ready for transport Mia. Do I require any identification to transport them?”

Mia reached into her breast pocket and pulled out a card with writing scribbled on it and a signature. Nippikin couldn’t make it out, it was all loopy and the signature was messy like most humans.

“A lieutenant gave me this. I think his name was Schor. It’s supposed to let us take these guys onto the ship.”

She handed the card to Nippikin, “Don’t go losing that okay.”

“I will do no such thing.” Dr. Zek said assuredly, as he grabbed a stretcher with each tentacle and pulled 2 while pushing the other 2. “Think on what you will want for nourishment. I will return in a moment.”

Nippikin made his way out of the building. Outside, the rations seemed to be running low, and there was an uneasy feeling in the air. Something the UWS would have to manage at this time. He approached the ship and handed the first guarding marine he saw the card.

“Hello Sir, I must enter your ship. These men need space to heal.”

Miranda was pushing her way through the crowd that filled the impromptu habitation complex towards the ship. Halfway through, she met Sergeant Solothurn, who, just like her, was struggling through the mass of bodies, some malnourished, others injured.
“I hoped I could get there before they landed, but this...” he gestured at the horde surrounding them, “is something I forgot to account for.”
“No last-minute information about the cargo or passengers?”
He shook his head, pushing a man in his fifties aside. “Nada. But if I were to guess, they are just a supply run.”
“What’s with all the secrecy, then?”
“I dunno. Is it secrecy, or a-” He got cut short when he tripped over a small child. “Or just a bureaucratic debacle? MAKE WAY, damn it! Security coming through.”

After a few more minutes, they reached the Scythian. The crowd grew denser and denser seemingly with each passing step. Ten or so people were pushing their way towards the administration building, clad in full armor.
“So much for a relief ship, take a look at that lot.” Miranda pointed the group out to Solothurn. “Now we have a small invasion force running loose around the place.”
“Three more standing guard near the ship. At least three, that is. I’m starting to smell an official visit. As if something could happen to them here. Like people have nothing better to do all day than hunt down visiting high ups. I wonder who’s Mr. Important of the day?”
“I’d rather not know.” she growled, “What I do wonder about is why they are here in the first place?”
“It was a matter of time before someone came to claim the grand prize.” David said, pointing upwards.
“Don’t start with that. I wish that was stuck on an escape vector. Well, you go deal with whatever they brought here, I’ll go have a chat with someone responsible.” she waved him off and watched as he approached the NAVY officer organising the supplies. ”If i can find them, that is.” she thought.

She approached the ship, walking beside the line waiting for the rations, earning a few angry glances and remarks, some people apparently thought she was skipping ahead to get their rations. She couldn’t blame them. She found a crewman that wasn’t doing anything at the moment.
“Excuse me.” she tapped his shoulder with a false smile, “Do you mind pointing me towards your commanding officer, or at least someone responsible for your cargo?” The crewman tried to excuse himself, but she stepped into his path, her friendly expression now gone and replaced by a mix of annoyance and held-back anger.
“We haven’t received your loadsheet prior to your arrival. This theoretically means no crew, personnel or cargo may leave this landing pad until our officers take a thorough look through this metal kite of yours. Seeing as some of your people are already running around, how about you point me towards someone with authority over this barge so we can sort this out without making a huge fuss about it. Not sure if you noticed over the glare of your sparkling clean uniform, but we have enough crap to deal with as it is, we certainly don’t need more.”

The crewman pointed her to where he last saw the Scythian’s second in command and gave her a rough description before she let him go and headed out of the landing bay and towards the infirmary. As she neared the door, a Gulin, hauling four stretchers at once, left the building and headed for the Scythian. The sight made her chuckle. She stared at him in amusement for a few seconds before turning back to the infirmary.

Clara and Director Ogilvie watched from the bay window in his office as the UWS Scythian dropped into view from orbit and delicately touched down on the spaceport’s biggest landing pad. The view was partially blocked by the terminal building but Clara could see a steady stream of people exiting their habitats and making their way to the landed ship. Some were bringing grav-lifters with them, probably in anticipation for the supply drop of aid supplies.

Clara checked her personal assistant device. There was a heck of a lot of chatter going on, with some colonists even filming the crewmen and troopers who were streaming from the cargo ramp. The Scythian looked even bigger up close, disappearing out of shot in all directions. Clara hadn’t seen that particular model before and it looked relatively unblemished so she guessed it was pretty fresh off the factory line.

A video call interrupted her feed, startling her slightly. It was her colleague Dr Gao. She accepted the call and the face of a middle aged man with his spacesuit helmet on but the visor off appeared. “Clara, did you feel that tremor? The site is going crazy right now, some kind of localised vibration which keeps coming and going. My readings are off the chart!” Clara looked at James, who motioned for her to go ahead and walked round to his desk. Clara put Dr Gao on loudspeaker and sat down on the sofa.

“Dentsu, slow down a second. What exactly is going on over there?”

“The dig site is waking up Clara, something is activating. I’m trying to figure out what's causing it but so far as i know there isn’t any internal stimuli that could be causing this.”

Clara looked at Director Ogilvie, who was making a face. She covered her view of Dr Gao with one hand and mouthed ‘what?’ to him.

“What about the ship?”. He mouthed back. Clara initially didn’t realise what he was implying but then it hit. He was suggesting that the Scythian was the outside stimuli. It was certainly a reach, but something about the UWG coming in here was so suspicious that she supposed anything was possible. She could think of one person, thing, that might know. Clara added RX3248’s consultant security AI, 0984-Thebes, to the comms line.

“Evening ma’am, how can i help?”

“Thebes, what is happening at Dr Gao’s location?”

“Low level P-Wave seismic activity, inside of a 1 mile subterranean vector.”

“How long has it been going on exactly?”

“Six minutes and fifty two seconds, or the same amount of time the UWS Scythian has been grounded on this moon.”

“Do you actually read my mind, Thebes?”

“No Ma’am, but we are alike in being suspicious of recent events.”

Clara nodded, then addressed Dentsu Gao.

“Stay put unless you guys are in danger, monitor the situation and ping me on my PA with any developments. We’re meeting the Scythian’s captain now.” Dr Gao nodded and disconnected.

“Thebes, see what you can find out about this UWS ship, and its crew.” Director Ogilvie added from his desk, just as a man and a woman in plain clothes but sporting military grade armor breastplates burst into the office. The woman hung back while the man approached and addressed them both.

“I understand you have uncovered something of potential interest to the United Worlds Government. I'm here to review and investigate your discovery.”

Under the man’s stare, and despite herself, Clara couldn’t help but nod. The man was undoubtedly a spook, confirming the suspicions of both herself and the Director. She snuck a look at James Ogilvie, who looked startled at the sudden intrusion and totally unprepared for this agent instead of the UWSC captain he’d been expecting. This had to be serious.

Clara looked at the Director, who hesitated before looking back at Loken who was looking at him as well. “Yeah well i uhh.. I guess that’s alright. Clara, please make sure the man gets whatever he needs. May i ask Agent Loken, who should i talk to about organising medical relief and food supplies for the inhabitants here? I assume the UWG sent us something?”

“That’s already being taken care of,” said Loken. “One of my corpsmen is seeing to the wounded below, and I’ve tasked some seamen to bring supplies to this building and, according to my commbead,” he said, tapping the device in his ear. “There’s some en route to your hospital as well.”

Ogilvie steeled himself slightly, walking round his desk. “Ah, fantastic. I’ll head down there now to help facilitate its distribution..."

Loken extended a hand, palm outwards, towards the director as he began to make his way towards the door. “I’ll have to ask you to remain here, director. Your assistant and my team will return shortly. Until then, I’m tasking two agents for your protection,” he said, activating his commbead. “Black, White, come to the administration building and keep an eye on the director while the rest of us recce this intel.”

The director looked at Loken, confused. “I thought those were their names?” he said. Loken glanced at him briefly. “They’re our brothers,” he said. “Please remain here, my team will keep you safe.” Safe from what he didn’t say, but Agents Black and White were already on their way to the office, while Loken gestured for Clara to lead on and then followed her from the office.

As it turned out most of the supply detail was being taken care of by the military staff themselves. Fortunately for the Apis they didn’t have to push through the crowds to find this out, a couple of them buzzing over the heads of the crowd to the military personnel. After a brief argument they were turned away from boarding with their mechs to help speed up unloading.

Meanwhile the Rapid Evening’s communication array continued to passively monitor signals in and around the colony, trying to see if they could pick up any information as to what was actually going on. They briefly picked up the beginnings of communications between a lone interceptor and the com’s tower, an odd place for a fighter craft they noted, they managed to pick up the communique about the activity at the science site. Suffice to say they were very alarmed, after all, there was a perfectly good example up in orbit as to why ancient technology activating was an extremely bad thing to happen. At least that’s what they assumed the tremors might be, it hadn't gone beyond their notice that that coincided rather suspiciously with the arrival of the two new vessels in the system. Safe to say they did not want to get caught with their pants down for a second time and so initialized a recall for all of their members back to the rapid Evening, effective immediately.

To any individual the nearby swarms abandoning was but a curiosity, but to anyone with the big picture there was a large amount of Apis and machinery now heading straight back to the the ship, the crab lifter crew and Liandry robots returning in good order. The only exception to this was the group currently right outside the office the signal had been intended for. Now that they knew what to listen for a number of them gently set themselves down on the floor. They could feel it, with their wings temporarily silenced and antennae touching the floor, tiny creatures could feel the vibrations even from this far off. It was extremely concerning. They picked themselves back of the ground and joined the rest. They were about to set off when Dr Lascelles and an unknown man who might be military. After waiting a few moments to create a polite distance the swarm followed after them, heading for the exit.

Hark felt the slight impact of the Scythian landing and heard the creaking of the old ship. Soon after they landed he saw they loading personnel enter the cargo bay and started moving supplies that he assumed were to be given to the moons inhabitants. Hark then saw Loken and two of his agents come down from the star case, “Alright marines this is your chance to do any last minute equipment checks” Hark called out to the group, “I’ll kick anyone’s ass who goes out there and has fucked up gear.”

The agents came to the group of marines and Loken assigned them new call-signs. Hark checked over his weapon and did a last minute function check on his exoskeleton as a crewman dropped one of the loading ramps. The small group descended into the dust and after a moment of walking came out to the view of the colony. It wasn’t a bad chunk of rock and for the most part the tech looked pretty up to date and well maintained. Hark also noticed these weird little flying creatures that were buzzing around the loading deck.

A small crowd of people had gathered up around the ship and left very little room for the group the pass through so Hark motioned for Tremper to follow him to the front the clear a way. “Clear a damn path!” Hark called out to the group of colonists before he started pushing people who pretended to be deaf out of the way. They made slow progress and after a few minutes they finally made their way through the small army of colonists. He saw what appeared to be the moons security team approaching the ship to probably make life a little more difficult for the already overwhelmed crewmen who were trying to contain the crowds.

“I wonder what these people think of us.” He heard Holly say as they were given wide eyes looks from a lot of the colonists who saw them all armored up.

“I suppose some think were heroes, and some are about to shit their pants because they think we’re going to steal their freedoms.” Came the response from the team’s corpsman, Woods. Hark gave a little snort at woods remark. Hark had actually served with Woods on a few occasions while the Nomad was still active. Woods was one of the most high speed corpsman he had ever seen and would often assault objectives with the marines instead of waiting in the back to treat those who were injured.

The group finally came to the governors building and they set a guard up at the front door while the rest of them just tried to look like they were doing something important. The building sure was a busy place as nurses and doctors as well as general workers were coming in and out. Hark peered into a window and saw that they bottom floor looked as if it were turned into a miniature hospital. Hark heard his coms beep and it was Loken asking for Woods to help out with the injured in the building.

“Hey Woods, they need you inside to help out with the wounded. There are injured marines in there.” At the mention of wounded marines Woods jumped up and rushed over to the door. “Don’t have too much fun without me sarg.” He said with a wink before disappearing into the busy building leaving the rest of the marines outside to wait for Loken to return.

NPC Mini-post - Scythian Loading Area

Adrienne was getting restless. She hopped from one foot to another, looking round at the other people in the queue for aid supplies. A group of marines and some civilian officer types had just pushed their way through the crowd but that space had already been refilled by clamoring colonists. A thin line of navy crewmen were holding people back, while a small number of personnel were grabbing boxes from inside the cargo hold and distributing the contents. Adrienne saw one old lady get one MRE. It felt as though they were either distributing a really small amount of supplies, or they were trying to buy themselves some time. She turned to her husband, who had a tight grip on their two kids. He gave her a look which said 'don't do it' but she couldn't help herself.

"Stay here, i'll be right back; i'm gonna go talk to them."

"No darling, please just stay here. We'll get ours in a minute!"

Adrienne turned and started subtly pushing her way through the crowd. Her tall and thin size gave her some leverage as she used her elbows to squeeze between the spacesuited refugees blocking her way. It wasn't long before she started hearing disgruntled noises. People in front began looking at her and she could feel it getting harder and harder to move. She was almost to the front when a rotund man from Facilities Management, who had spotted her from a mile away, blocked her path.

"Get back in line, lanky!"

"I'm just going to talk to them, i don't want any trouble with you!" Adrienne pleaded.

The man held out both his hands and pushed her back again. "This lady is pushing to the front!" Several other people turned around and started jeering at her. Adrienne did not take kindly to some punk from FM speaking to her in this way. She pushed him back, sending him tumbling onto his behind. Several people laughed. Adrienne was just about to resume her journey to the front when the man jumped to his feet and punched her in the throat. Adrienne's space suit absorbed most of the damage but she found herself being restrained by her husband, just as a crewman pushed his way into the circle with an extendable baton raised.

"Both of you, get to the back of the line!" He shouted as another person twisted the Facilities Management guy's arm behind his back and shoved him forward.

As soon as their transport landed on the small moon Ro, Jack, Mel and BB disembarked to witness a hungry crowd clamoring for supplies from the cargo ship, which had landed prior to theirs on a priority landing vector.

The four ex-military observed the situation with trained eyes.

"Something's fishy here." BB muttered under his breath. "Vok, can you catch something with your optics?"

"We're not here to spy, BB." Mel interjected sternly.

The man appeared taken aback for a second or two. Mel had outranked both him and Jack when they were still enlisted.

"Fuck that, Mel!" This time it was Jack who intervened. "You can't tell me this looks legit to you!" He pointed at the cargo ship. Its cargo bay ramp lowered, a cordon of sailors keeping the colonists at bay while another group was 'busy' handing out a scarce amount of supplies. "If this was a cargo ship carrying supplies for this moon there'd be a hell of a lot more personnel unloading and a hell of a lot more supplies trading hands!"

Mel bit her lower lip. The boys were right, of course. But that still didn't mean they should get involved. They had not come here to investigate fishy cargo ships with priority landing vectors. "Do you mind?" She found herself asking however, turning to look at Ro.

"I don't mind." The Noxaara said also finding the situation to be quite unusual. "But I don't believe I'll be able to detect anything from this distance." Ro said. "And I don't believe we have reason to approach enough for my optics to detect anything of significance."

"Damn!" BB exclaimed.

"C'mon, guys." Mel urged the boys. "We gotta find either Miranda Nero or Dr Clara Lascelles to hammer out the details of our arrangement." She grabbed her bags and shouldered them. "We've only just arrived. Let's get the lay of the land first. See what's what, who's who and then maybe go spying."

Jack and BB grumbled, but both shouldered their bags and followed after Mel.

Ro also followed. "The situation on the moon appears to be quite desperate in terms of supplies." The Protector observed walking besides Mel. "If I'm allowed to contact my people I'm sure they would be glad to help with whatever they can. The Noxaara didn't suffer as much damage as the humans during the war with Nomad."

"I'm sure they'll appreciate that, Ro." Mel stated looking at her friend with a soft smile. The Noxaara were a gentle race to begin with, but the Protectors especially had this internal desire to help. It was, after all, why she, Jack and BB were still alive.

The four friends made their way to the general administration building in search of Mel's contacts. The situation on the moon appeared indeed dire. There were injured people everywhere, both military and civilian and it would appear the medical staff was struggling to tend to them all.

"Mel..." BB looked at her pleadingly, passing injured people left and right. He was a medic in the platoon during the Nomad war.

"I know, BB." She said in acknowledgement. "Let's just get situated first and then you can go and do your thing."

He nodded silently.

Ro could relate. As a Protector she had emergency medicine training as well, although not at par with BB's, certainly not where humans were concerned, but Vokeera understood his desire to help.

They approached the general area where Mel knew the offices of the head honcho's were. Ro's SEEM auditory enhancement picked up on a light buzzing sound right when they saw a group of marines in exoskeleton suits posted at equal intervals in the narrow corridor. The buzzing disappeared almost immediately.

"Cargo ship, my ass!" BB and Jack grumbled in unison.

"Behave!" Mel warned. "I agree this is fishy as hell." She added. "Let’s be smart about it. BB, Jack, see if you can find the chief of security Miranda Nero." She was about to unload her bags on the floor of the corridor when Vokeera clasped her arm to stay her movement.

Mel looked at the Noxaara questioningly. Ro indicated with a head movement towards the floor. A small swarm of Apis had taken up position on the floor, their wings now unmoving, quiet. Mell cursed under her breath.

"I feel like we've been dropped in the middle of a play to which we don't know the plot or the lines." She complained looking at the Apis swarm. "Go on, guys." She urged Jack and BB and they tracked back from whence they came. Mel turned to Ro. "By the looks of it we won't be allowed to enter the office of the Director, so let’s try Dr Lascelles's office first."

Ro nodded and the two of them made their way past Director Ogilvie's office. They stood in front of a door, its plaque reading simply 'Dr Clara Lascelles'. Mel raised her hand and nocked. There was no answer, but shortly after there was a commotion in front of Ogilvie's office. The door opened and a group of people exited the room. Some decidedly 'spook' looking individuals and a woman.

Vokeera and Mel followed the group with curious gazes.

"Should we try the Director's office now?" Ro wondered.

Mel was chewing her bottom lip again. "Let's follow them." She said out of the blue.

"Lugging our stuff while we're at it?" Ro pointed out. "We'll stick out like a sore opposable digit."

"It's a sore thumb, Ro." Mel grinned at Vokeera’s inability to accurately use human idioms. "Honestly, you've lived how many years now among humans and still cannot commit to memory our sayings and phrases! Now come on, we're following them!" She proceeded to drag the Noxaara after her.

The two of them hurried to catch up with the group that had exited the Director's office and began following them at a safe distance as to not cause suspicion.

"Jack and BB will be so miffed at you when they find out you followed the suspicious looking people, when you didn't let them snoop around." Ro whispered in Mel's ear. Melissa simply grinned. "It would also appear the Apis have the same idea as you." Vokeera indicated with a head movement the swarm of small flying creatures following the group at a respectable distance.

@Catharyn@Starlance@Ozymandias

Natalia waited for a response. She had deactivated her weapons but kept her shields up. Was she still out of range? She was approaching, continuously slowing down so as not to cause any undue alarm, but without radio contact it was impossible to tell what the controllers in the tower were thinking.

"This is tower RX3248; report your vessel’s current status.”

Natalia let out a small sigh. Finally.

"My ship was attacked by unknown bandits and suffered moderate damage. Requesting priority landing clearance."

The tower officer reported everything she said to Nelson. Then the two shared a curious look, and a shoulder shrug.

"Do you have a spare headset?" Nelson asked the officer. "I wanna hear what she wants to say."

"Yes sir." He bent down and opened his drawer, taking out an old headset. Plugging it in the required socket, the officer then gave it to the Lieutenant.

"Here you go sir. Unfortunately this is a pretty old headset, and the mic is broken, so you can't talk to her."

"That's fine." Nelson gratefully took the set, and began to receive transmission from Natalia.

"This is control tower RX3248. We need your details on you and your vessel."

Natalia had to stop herself from instinctively asking what the fuck they meant. She knew what they meant, but she couldn't help but be annoyed at the fact that they were interrogating her after she said that she had been attacked and her vessel was damaged. Whatever.

"My name is Natalia Aprilia, independent pilot. My vessel is an IF-39B Medium Interceptor. I didn't intend to come here; I bought transport on a freighter and was originally headed from Earth to Pollux. The owner of said freighter also tried to sell me out to raiders, or pirates, or something. I was ambushed as soon as I arrived in this system, but as you can see I am still among the living. Can't say the same for my attackers, but the freighter got away. The freighter was called the FMV Lanniston, for your information."

Nelson's eyebrows narrowed as the name of the freighter was heard said.

"FMV Lanniston...I've heard of that name before."

If his memories did not fail him, he had read about it at sometimes a few months ago. Not having encountered it before, but through newspaper articles and so, he knew that the Lanniston wasn't a freighter for good.

"Lanniston? I don't really want one of them to land here" The officer said, also recogizing the vessel, as Nelson crossed his arms in front of his chest.

"I don't really trust them either. But the fact that her vessel is damaged could mean that she isn't really one of them."

"Then what do you suggest we do, sir? The officer asked, as Nelson place down the headset that he was just given.

"You're the commander of the tower. It's up to you to decide. But if I were you, I would give her a place. Lives first, reasons later."

Despite having doubts about the oncoming ship, the young officer simply shrugged it away, as he was reminded of the purpose of a military personal, and being a space traffic controller. A purpose that no one are ever allowed to forget

"Alright sir." He then turned to contact the Interceptor. "This is control tower, you are permitted to land on runway 3."

There was a pause before a reply was heard, but finally Natalia was given clearance to land. She let out a sigh and flicked a couple of switches. "Understood; beginning my approach." Her navigational computer calculated an approach to the spaceport and displayed a flight path into the moon's atmosphere and towards the port. She allowed her ship to stay in a stable orbit for a few moments before tilting the nose down and burning towards the moon.

Natalia's approach was, predictably, somewhat rocky. Were it a space station, or the moon didn't have an atmosphere, it would have been a nonissue, but the introduction of wind resistance, however thin the atmosphere was, in conjunction with the disturbance in aerodynamics that always happens when a smooth surface becomes jagged and messed up, made things somewhat interesting. Once the ship had finished aerobraking and slowed to a sub-orbital speed, Natalia had closed to within 20 kilometers of the spaceport, and it was then that she saw the Navy vessel resting on the dock. It was almost comical how out of place it appeared, sitting at such a small civilian spaceport. It appeared to just be a transport, so it was likely ferrying supplies.

Natalia's final approach was accomplished without problems. She brought her ship down onto the runway and maneuvered towards one of the hangars. It was then that she noticed how much of the spaceport had been turned into housing. It was hardly surprising, it was hard times for everyone. Who knew how close humanity came to extinction as a result of The Nomad's crusade. And, of course, there were those who would take advantage of the chaos for their own gain. Natalia had just experienced that side of humanity firsthand. And now she would have to hope for a much better side of humanity if she were to hope to pay for the repairs to her ship.

Natalia deployed the ship's landing skids as it glided into one of the hangars, maneuvering to one corner of the structure once inside and setting it down on the floor of the hangar. She began turning off her ship's systems when she noticed the commotion coming from the UWG ship. Were those Marines? Fully decked out? Guarding the ship? Something was off about that. Sure, most Navy vessels had at least a small squad of Marines, but for a simple milk run they wouldn't take up such a posture. Was there someone important with them?

It made her think, but she wrote it off. It wasn't important at the moment; what was important was finding someone to fix her ship. And maybe a job to help pay for said fixing. She put on a helmet and turned on her suit's oxygen supply before opening the ship's canopy and stepping out of the cockpit, but then paused when she really saw the condition her ship was in.

"Motherfucker," she muttered. Looking at readouts on the ship's computer didn't compare to visually seeing the damage. Natalia's fighter had definitely seen better days. She walked along the wing towards the edge, avoiding where a hole was blown right through it, then dropped down onto the floor of the hangar, heading towards what looked to be an airlock into the main facility. She looked around for anyone who looked like they were in charge, but the hangar was completely unpopulated. Possibly due to the arrival of the Navy ship. She let out a grunt and proceeded into the main facility. She removed her helmet as soon as she was inside and began to make her way towards... someplace. In all honesty, she had no idea where she was going, but she needed to find someone of some importance.

She eventually saw a sign pointing towards a "Director's Office". Naturally, she followed the sign, up a couple flights of stairs. She passed by several people on the way; one man accompanied by a woman whom Natalia assumed was a scientist, followed not to far behind by a woman and a... Noxaara? She had to do a double-take to confirm that, but it seemed odd for an alien to be here, in a colony that seemed so small. Natalia shrugged and continued up until she made it into a hallway and spotted a door that appeared to be guarded by two men. Were they guards? They weren't exactly dressed for the part, but they did appear very guard-like in their posture. She cautiously approached the door. Sure enough, it was labeled "Director Ogilvie."

"May I go inside? I'd like to speak to the director."

@Catharyn@Ozymandias