The Interstellar Broadcasting and Reception Office was hard at work within the Spire. It was in charge of receiving and transmitting all Committee broadcasts in the galaxy, as well as receiving unidentified transmissions. A Yhei was playing a game secretly on his terminal. He had been bored all day, and it wasn't the first time his job required him to do nothing. He was in charge of any foreign broadcasts being sent in the direction of the Spire outside of the known galaxy, and it had very little action since its creation. His mouth curled in frustration as he lost in his game, but before he could start a new one, his headset started to pick up static. His yellow eyes blinked curiously, exiting the game and bringing up the frequency of the broadcast. After listening to it for a few seconds, he took off his headphones, looking over at his boss. "Uh, sir... You'e gonna wanna listen to this..."

---

"It was an S.O.S. signal, no doubt about that. It matched Committee procedure to the tee."

"Then why are we bringing this up?"

"Because.. It's frequency wasn't within Committee boundaries. It was picked up by our Extraterrestrial Unit."

"Lets listen then, Commander."

The Grand Chairman's office was filled with the Head representative of every race on the council, including the Commander of the IBRO. If the Commander was to bring this to the Committee's attention, it had to be important.

"....elp, Help!...Stranded...Planet is....We need Assistance from anyone willing to help... So many dead! Oh, Oh god...!" Through the static there were sounds of men and women screaming, gunfire, and the growls of something hideous. The room was silent.

"Where was this broadcast?" The Grand Chairman finally spoke up, stroking his gray beard.

"We aren't sure, Chairman. It was off the grid, uncharted territory. We aren't even sure we know who they are, but like I said, they sounded military, providing an S.O.S. beacon."

"We should send a combat unit out there." The human representative said, looking over at the chairman.

"Not a chance, we are already spending millions of credits trying to protect colonists from bandits and other threats. Not to mention the Rebellion happening on Drawni..."

"Then why not contact our allies near the coordinates to see if they can spare some forces?"

The Yhei Representative laughed a bit. "No one would dare go to rescue a group of strangers after listening to that tape."

"I think we have another option." The human representative said again, stepping forward. "We can send in an expedition unit--"

"Oh please." The Furtim spoke up. "They would just waste resources and time. None of them are truly qualified to handle these types of situations."

"You're forgetting something." The Human representative stepped forward. "We actually have the Monroe on standby, in Quadrant 34 I believe. And as we know, they are the most efficient and successful expedition force since its creation."

A small amount of silence filled the room. "Would the crew on the Monroe be willing to investigate the S.O.S.?"

"They're criminals! All we have to do is tell them to do it, and they'd be forced to! And besides, It'd be a relief to finally be rid of Raymond Chase and his crew of criminals--"

"Marauders, I believe they call themselves." The Human replied, smiling a bit. At that time, the Chairman coughed and silenced the room. "Captain Rivers, call the crew of the Monroe, and brief them on their new assignment."

--------------------

The Monroe had been informed of their mission. They were on the Spire at the time when Chairman Rivers boarded the exploration vessel, and interrupted the recruitment process that was going on. This resulted in the full crew to be brought into the meeting room, and played the S.O.S. Of course this was a great way for some of these new members to be introduced to their line of work... This isn't a paradise vacation to see what good the galaxy had to offer. Each mission was considered a suicidal one. One that wouldn't guarantee your safety. As they were ordered, the Monroe eventually took off, and everyone learning their stations and roles quickly. Luckily the ship's AI can be literally everywhere at once, being able to instruct and answer any questions the crew had. Its name is T8NG0, but the Captain calls it Tango.

It wasn't long for the Maruaders to slip into Hyperdrive, going right in to the unknown. Since it was outside of the known galaxy, it would take a day of FTL travel, which was fine for the Captain of the Monroe: Raymond Chase. It gave him time to prepare, to listen to what they were up against, and the more he listened to the signal, the more his spine chilled. "Turn it off, Tango." The voice of Raymond Chase said, running a hand through his dark brown hair. He was now in his Captain's quarters, a much larger room than the others with its own personal shower and bedroom, as well as a study with numerous artifacts, maps, and relics from Earth.

He had been pacing the room in his usual attire: A athletic fit Exploration Force T-shirt, with patches of the American Flag, the Galactic Committee, and the Marauders on his short sleeves. He wore Space-ready pants (a fancy and high tec version of cargo pants), boots, and his side holster for his revolver. He finally managed to sit down at his desk, tapping his finger slightly on the surface, trying not to think about their new mission. At least, for now. He had spent hours figuring out what he wanted to do. Instead, he turned his attention to the new crew members' files.

It had been a little bit since Committee approved criminals joined the team. Of course, Kaite had only been here for a couple months, but by no means was approved by the Committee. The more he read into the files, the more he felt comfortable. He liked knowing his crew; their ins and outs, strengths and weaknesses. He had to know what he had to keep them all safe. He definitely had a unique crew this time around... And a psychiatrist that actually wanted to come aboard? Oh, boy. She has no idea what she's getting into with these characters.

Suddenly the ship made a horrible screech noise, and was yanked sideways, sending Raymond flying out of his seat, and hitting a wall. "Captain, we have been pulled out of the Hyperdrive sequence. Tango's metallic voice echoed through his quarters. Raymond gave a silent curse, and stood up, grabbing his pistol and glove from the floor, and walking out.

"What are we up against?" The Captain asked, moving very quickly through the silver halls of the Monroe. "Pirates, documented by the Committee for years. Three assault class frigates, one cargo vessel. One of them seems to be damaged already."

"Why would they attack with an injured ship?" Raymond asked to himself, entering the large room to the bridge. As he entered the ship rocked a bit as it got hit by a blast. "Carthas, lets not be a sitting target! Tango, activate the guns. Ray said as he looked out the large window to see the view. There were definitely four ships alright, and they were all moving to position to try and lock the Monroe into place. "Looks like they picked the wrong fight..." Raymond tapped his ear to activate a device the broadcasted his voice throughout the ship.

"Crew of the Monroe to your positions! We got a pirate raid, four ships one injured. Make yourselves useful, and get to work! Anyone with a fighter get to it. We need to analyze their ships, find their weak spots, someone get on that! Raymond's voice wasn't shaky, it wasn't unsure, it was calm, but very much in control. The Captain of the Monroe had led them to many instances like this, and he was sure this wasn't going to be their last fight. No way that Raymond Chase would let his ship be taken down by pirates.

The machine hadn't spoken a word.

It was silent being brought onto the ship, silent as it viewed every compartment and room with monk-like secrecy. When called to the meeting room and informed to listen to a cryptic message, it made no quips or responses. It doubted the notion of even a single member surviving. The message was most likely on loop as a distress to draw in more ships to their doom. It was a simple trap and they were to fall in like a mouse hunting cheese. It had taken one of the most recluse areas of the ships to call 'home': The cargo bay. Stowing itself in a more dimly lit realm of eight by five by four. Affixing its feet into the floor and shutting power down to its optic, it became a statue, running numbers and calculations in its computational matrix.

It had taken a liking to feeling the 'heartbeat' of the ship, the steady humming flow of power. As if struck by lightning, the machine powered on the optic and began moving, around the time the Monroe jumped into hyperdrive. "Calculating ETA." It spoke lowly, the first words it had ever made.
"Maintaining current speed without delays; one day, two hours, seventeen minutes and forty nine seconds." It logged in an obscure memory bank. "T8NG0, encode ship overall cyber-defense software in bit-code. Transmit via physical link or external copy." It commanded, assuming it had better fill its role upon the ship. The machine rotated all four wrist joints like it was nervous, actually just verifying that they all still worked. It had been under shackles for months before being released here. Even small amounts of humidity from prison cells could make rust with time. It knew T8NG0 extensively. It was hard to miss AI's in ships, especially when it required an AI core for piloting orders. The machine could feel its presence as the power flowing to the room shifted to accommodate the AI viewing its contents.

Create sub-folder, begin log... Extract stolen dossiers: Error, encryption key required. Error, partial memory dump recorded. Error, encryption key lockout virus detected: Isolating... Purging.

It had seemed that the Committee had several contingencies in place. Nexus had not thought to take anything from the encryption area. It would be forced to actually.. Speak with these people. How miserable. The machine lurched to a stop immediately, just entering the Hangar. It would have appeared like it struck a wall. Recovery in progress. Scanning. . . . Unencrypted data recovered. Summarizing...
Logging stations, races and years aboard Monroe.

It would have to manually go to each crew-mates area of work and log information, a task too tedious to perform during an monitored jump into unknown space. With seamless movements, it maneuvered itself in the complete opposite direction down the ramp.

"T8NG0." It commanded, making a gentle leap over the hand rail to land with a rather harsh bang on an unoccupied platform. "Access to AI Core would provide additional resources. We would be more efficient in defending ship-wide systems against attack, offering additional tactics and situational awareness ourselves. Proposition created." It stated more than asked, although it preferred it that way. Speaking direct to another machine felt much more natural. Harboring its shell back into the secluded area it called 'home', it prepared to wait out the jump to the S.O.S.

____________________________________________________________

Neglecting to actually secure its feet into the metal paneling this time, it was torn from the ground and sent stumbling into the cargo door, roughly smashing its shoulders into the steel and leaving two dents behind. "Repairs later, T8NG0, provide sit-rep on current cruiser condition. We will move to control opposition craft systems." It stated, borrowing the opposing ships transmitters to invade their power grid personally. Wireless infiltration was much more difficult than physical, meaning that even though it could place itself inside and get a view, it would take minutes to properly access anything important. Rooting its feet to the ground in preparation for evasive maneuvers, it diverted most of its power to flooding one of the enemy ships, a randomly selected assault-class frigate, with random directives and continuous power-fluctuations. Anyone viewing the opposition, would see one ship list off slightly to one side, pointing a little away from the Monroe before firing its primary weapon and thrusting backwards slightly. It was as if the crew had gotten drunk.

Of course this was corrected readily by the ships engineer, as power fluctuations were locked out of the machines command, but that frigate was temporarily out of the fight. Rather than leave its own ship defenseless, it diverted a few processing cores to focus their attention in Nexus' body, monitoring the power-filled hum of the ship ready to counter if need be.

Attempting to breach enemy ship weapon controls; processing. . . ETA: 5 minutes for total, 3 minutes for partial.

A muffled scratching sound emanated from a supply closet, the denoting sign having been flipped to its clean side and '073' etched into the metal. Cramped for most people to be in, Kaite didn't mind the small space and went so far as to efficiently organize the various supplies to make room enough for a shelving unit to be repurposed as a desk of sorts. Behind it, Kaite knelt on his bedding, muttering softly to himself as he meticulously scratched another small fish into the metal wall with his knife.

"...A bottomless sea...a bottomless sea..." he whispered, finely scraping the details of his newest work's scales to make it glisten in the light. Dozens of the figures clustered the corner and floor, disappearing under the blankets and pillows which hid the hundreds of others. Finishing the ordeal, the chimera fell silent, leaning in to almost touch the wall with his face. His eyes were wide, though he closed one to peer into small fish as if trying to see something through a keyhole and close enough where the dull mint green glow of his eye reflected from the fish's beautifully sheered scales. To be honest with himself, Kaite wasn't sure what he was looking for, but felt compelled to do so like how one thoughtlessly bites their nails. It was a use of his time which Tango disapproved of, which was why the security officer left the eyepatch on the desk with a pillow over it after discovering the AI received a feed of the sensors in it.
To that end, it was highly unclear what Kaite did in his closet after the first report of him supposedly vandalizing the ship shortly after arriving.

The muffled screech of Tango calling through his eyepatch was designed to call his attention, though Kaite merely tilted his head at first. "Stones in rocks in sediment...circles making a square. Circles..." he muttered before shaking his head and standing and turning to don the eyepatch and dash out of his 'room'. There were few reasons why he would get a 'call to arms' and his presence was regardless requested.
____________________________________________________

The quick wake of stars bending betrayed the common jump, a carrier craft outfitted without weapons and a few dents in its hull. Shields burnt out from the jump, a flow of energy spiked around it as it was in the stage of recharging its defenses. Far from primitive, the shield must have had its own engine, and the fact that it had popped was a precursor to the events due to occur. Still, the fight it bore witness to must have been heinous judging by the gouge in its aft tail just above the engines. Thankfully, arcs of its armor and an otherwise second layer of 'warranty' shielding prevented it from being hewed from FTLT. (Faster-Than-Light-Travel)

A ripple cascaded as the burning wreck of a ship poured in from hyperdrive. Having already sustained damage, it was clear that the jump had been made out of foolish desperation as the stress of the journey had shredded the rest of its hull. Still, the armed craft turned, bending from the hole which had been knocked in its side and still smoldered with an eerie violet light. Engines flickered from the displaced power and it propulsed its way just out of range from a second ripple...then a third.
One of the new armed ships had a wing carved off with the similar light glowing from its stump. Unless it found a space dock, it was essentially crippled and unfit for another jump as hinted to from how its hull plates peeled around it after sustaining reentry.
The third, however, was in about as 'prime' condition that one could discern from the off-colored cobbled bits of material that made up its shell. Heavily armored, but violently scuffed along its front and side from a weapon which had crushed its shielding which barely managed to protect its crew from the same fate as its comrades.

None of them held any markings, though the second craft turned its auto-cannons on The Monroe before asserting a message, pervading the comms.
"We need your ship. You are outnumbered. We'll dump you safely, somewhere, but we don't have time to dispute such things" the auto-tuned message came through in barks of static. After a moment, the third ship turned to lock with The Monroe while the first wandered its way in front of the craft, making it apparent that running wasn't an option and making an attempt to run would end with the other two likely opening fire out of spite; reading showing the second and third ships' weapons were charging.
"You are to comply, unconditionally! We are sending a vessel to obtain control and any motion will be considered hostile and warrant for...discipline. No hard feelings" the voice came again, the third craft maneuvering around The Monroe.

There was darkness. Nothing but the infinite black. Only the sound of a cargo cranes moving precious cargo and the faint sounds of people talking and laughing . In this darkness of the cargo crate sat Pip Bernadotte. A man so deadly that even the tiniest alien isn't safe from his sword. The biggest mech will fall before his epic power. Now you might be wondering what our super awesome bad ass was doing in a place like this? Was he planning to destroy the ship he was one. Was he thinking up a way to eliminate the entire crew without being seen ? Or was he simply planning to move unseen between the shadows. He wasn't doing any of those things however. As Pip Bernadotte, the most bas ass motherfucker in the galaxy was.. he was emm.. *sigh* He was sleeping. Really you can't blame a man from catching some sleep can you? I mean when your cramped inside a cargo container the size of a goddamn bathtub waiting till your on the ship that holds your objective. you cant really blame a man from catching some shut eye. Then again he was rather behind schedule. He should have finished this like 7 hours ago. But apparently sleep is more important than your goddamn objective ! " ZZZZ" The sound of him sleeping was muffled by his mask. Otherwise the pirate would have heard his snoring hours ago. Then, there was a loud sound as the ship itself was pulled out of warp. There were alarms going off and muffled voices could be heard. " What's happening!?" A panicked female sounding voice screamed. " Someone is boarding the ship! Get to your stations dammit" A gruff mans voice replied. Then the sound of explosions could be heard and the ship started to shake. Pip simply mumbled something under his breath saying. " Ugh just five more minuets mom." And he continued to sleep.

After five hours of screaming gunshots and explosions later Pip finally opens his eyes looking about the darkness he is in. He yawns and tries to stretch but is unable too. He curses under his breath and tries to open the pod. However as he tried to open the hatch a small password code pops up stating. " Please insert code." Pip thinks for a minute and then types in his first guess. 1112. A large bleep is sounded and the now annoying voice states. "access denied." Pip sighs and types in the best password he can think of. 11113. Once again the bleep sounds and the voice states the same message. " Ok then time for plan B" He though to himself as he drew his sword. now mind you drawing the sword was hard as all hell. considering he was in a very small space. but after some cursing and bending his body in ways he would rather not repeat the sword was finally ready to initiate plan b. After a few stabs and slashes later he was finally outside the pod and decided to stretch. Not that it really did anything as he was mostly made out of steel and cybernetic parts. But it's a habit for some reason. He then looked around scanning his surroundings. Currently he was standing in a cargo bay filled with rows of cargo pods and containers. Now he knew what the objective was. Apparently it was a small purple finger sized crystal. What did it do and why was it so important that a top level assassin had to steal it ? Pip really had no idea but it was shiny so at-least that was a bonus.

Pip scanned the area and was surprised to see that he didn't see anyone. Like you would expect that some tech monkey or at least some random bloke walking about he could interrogate. But it was silent expect for the the cranes moving and some people laughing. Not the good kind of laughing mind you. More the evil version. Pip looked at were the sound was coming from but there was a small wall of containers in the way. So Pip having magnetic boots activates them and starts to walk up the wall. A few short seconds and almost falling off later pip stands atop and looks around. He sees some crates more crates some cargo pods, Cargo cranes and pile of corpses. " Yeah that's a bad sign." He then hears the laughing again even louder this time he looks about and finally spots a group of tough looking men. Now these men could either be a bunch of mercs or pirates. But considering there standing around laughing to stupid jokes they are probably pirates.
After a quick head count there only seem to be three of them. " Take out two leave one for questioning." Pip says to himself as he draws his guns. He runs to the edge of the wall jumps off and starts shooting. The pirates, being complete amateurs and not knowing what to do do the one thing they could thing off. Spray and pray. Bullets flew every where as pip zigzagged towards the pirates. He hit the first one in the chest killing him and quickly shot the other one in the head. He then looked at the last pirate and smiled. The pirate knowing that something bad is about to happend tried to go for his comm device to his ear and tries calling for help. Pip throws a knife at the moving hand hitting it. The man cries out in pain falling on his knees whimpering like a child. As he looks up he feels the cold steel og a knife pressed against his troat and a voice casually stating. " My name is is Pip and your not supposed to be here."

" w-hat.." The pirate exclaims still in incredible pain.

Pip shrugs and stabs his other knife in the mans hand pining this one into the steel floor. " Sorry just woke up let me rephrase my answer. What are a bunch of pirates doing on a cargo ship."

" We t took the ship. It was all on its own we just boarded it and stuff ya know ?" The pirate says blue sweat dripping of his bibbering skin.

" wait a second. Are you telling me you guys boarded a ship probably blew some stuff up killed all of the crew... And yet i didnt wake up !"

The pirate looks at Pip incredibly confused. " what are you..." But before the pirate can continue Pip walks around him angerly talking to himself. " Screw it next time i meet dad i'm asking him to put a fucking alarm clock in this damn thing!" He then looks at the pirate and asks." hey buddy know where i can find a crystal its purple and it shines very brightly."
The pirate gulps the pain becoming less and says still bibbering. " leave cargo bay go to floor two third room on your right. We havent been able to disable security yet we need an eye scanner and our hackers cant crack it." Pip looks at the pirate pats him on the shoulder pulls out one of the knives and slits the pirates neck in a simple swing." thank you kindly buddy of mine." He then walks to the pile of bodies and starts looking for people that have more important ranks. Finding said bodies he starts cutting out the eye balls and starts walking towards his objective. He gets himself to the second floor not finding anyone the entire way. He makes his way over to the room. He sees the crystal defend a bunch of turrets and lazers. That and a dead body on the floor which appears to be one of the hackers. After trying the captains eye ball and having success. He grabs the tiny little crystal and puts it in a small compartment. He then hears an alarm as the ship shakes.

" attention you slimy pieces of shit ! We just caught another ship ready for looting. But just in case prepare yourself in case shit gets dicey."

Pip grins as he says to himself." Another ship huh? Well looks like a i found my ticket out of here." With that said Pip starts making his way towards the bridge. readying himself for his exit.

Geu’rach Koh Ve’tame sat at the center of his dimmed-lighted quarters, bathed in the light of the only ceiling lamp presently active within the room. His massive form remained still and quite against the ambient humming of the ship while he seated himself crisscrossed upon the cold metal floor. Gue'rach's head was leveled downwards, eyes closed, and pointed a meter away from the palms of his conjoined hands. Flanking around him were a duo of small plates emanating fumes of incense that rose and clouded his atmosphere.

It was his hour of meditation; a routine activity he participated once every single day. It was the moment for him to collect his thoughts and find the inner peace to lose himself, surrendering his mind in to a trance state. Aside from the few hours of natural rest he would allow himself, this was the only other session of idleness a Auval’kotor warrior was allowed. The meditation he undertook, believed and honored by the majority of his people, was the time to alleviate himself of stress and to remove the negative thoughts that could influence his state of mind and hinder his performance. The Auval’kotor regarded such elements as distractions, deserving to be cast aside in favor for peak awareness and readiness should the time for duty or conflict be nearby.

Apparently, it was conflict that came crashing in.

The Monroe had suddenly shook violently, dislodging and tossing anything that was not secured to the walls or floor. This had unfortunately thrown his favorite incense plates in the hard metal walls, breaking both of them and scattering their remains all over his quarters. Gue'rach on the other hand merely leaned to one side where gravity and momentum had tried to push him towards. However, he remained in his position, nearly unfazed by the ordeal and not even once responded to the screeching sound of the Monroe prematurely leaving hyperspace. What did however claim a response from him was the tragic end to the small plates that now laid in pieces all over the floor. The Auval’kotor gave a rumbling groan of disapproval before all four of his unamused eyes finally opened, effectively ending his meditation.

The ship's internal alarms blared through the decks, signalling that trouble was nearby. The sound from earlier was one Geu'rach was familiar with. Unless the Monroe's hyperdrive had unexpectedly failed, his many combat simulations dictated that the ship had been unwillingly pulled from the realm of faster-than-light travel. It was likely a device or a vessel had fabricated a dimensional distortion that so happened to have lied in the ships FTL route, thus forcing the Monroe back in to the normal space; either scenario was unwelcomely bad. Captain Raymond Chase's voice eventually boomed in over the ship's comms and declared that pirates were engaging the Monroe before ordering everyone to perform their tasks. Having served under several different Shipmasters, Gue'rach found intrigue in how the Captain set everyone to work. In a spot like this, a Auval’kotor "captain" would have rallied the crew and troops in an inspiring speech, promising glory before followed by an ancient song echoed throughout the vessel by all the personnel in anticipation. Humans, or rather this one in particular was simply got to the point; Geu'rach could equally respect that.

Soon after the Captain's order had completed did another though unrecognized voice break through the comms. The quality of the transmission was poor and laced with static; clearly originating from one of the pirate vessels. The pirate that addressed the crew of the Monroe beckoned them surrender without putting up a fight. The notion nearly made Geu'rach bellow in laughter. While the Auval’kotor philosophy held room for such a concept, the idea of out rightly demanding one's capitulation without proving their strength was deemed nonsensical and occasional warranted the aggressive re-education of the subject.

While making his way to the hanger as fast as he could without colliding in to the narrow and more Human-friendly portals and archways, Geu'rach took quick notice of one of the pirate frigates maneuvering in closer to the Monroe. Before the pirate could confirm it over the comms, he quickly deduced that pirate raiders sought to board the ship. The circumstance the motion was presented pleased the Auval’kotor as a toothy grin form upon his closed maw.

They've come to die, he thought just as he made it to the ship's hanger.

Some time ago, he had adopted a portion of the hanger, specifically a spot unclaimed by any of the parked fighter craft as his own sparring ring. So far, nobody appeared to have mined its inconsequential re-utilization. Yet. However, it did prove to be the only place he could practice with his Thomu Felma or his Rugok. The more wieldy Rugok was simple and small enough to employ without any risk damaging any of the fighters or any of the equipment and superstructure. The Thomu Felma on the other hand was a definite risk that demanded quite some care in how it was used. While in its blade form, the weapon was practically the same size of a typical biped, typically anyone shorter than he was. While he luckily practiced with it without the main blade fully powered, he nerveless exercised the utmost care in wielding it. Furthermore, the unclaimed space also paid host to his locker off to the side.

He gave no time for reprieve and rushed over to his locker while the fighters stationed in the hanger bay were being automatically prepped in the background. Just as he dialed in his access code, he then turned his back to the locker just as its armored exterior retracted and revealed the contents within. Several mechanical arms sprang loose from the hold and embraced Geu'rach with segments of a powered suit. His initial uniform he currently wore bore several nodes up and down his body where each strip and part winded and magnetized in securely. The weight briefly poured on as more alloy added to the frame work but after the constructed suit's main power source was finally inserted did many of the suit's limb-enhancers engaged, relieving him of the mounted load. The final piece soon came into place as it overtook his head and face and securing to his upper-jaw line. The only few seconds of darkness he gazed in to was soon lit up by his activated HUD, already setting out in marking objects of interest.

Taking his Rugok to his left holster and the Thomu Felma in to his grasps, his suit's OS finally cleared him for combat readiness. Question was however, what to do? One of the pirate frigate was soon about to, or at least, try to dock with the Monroe with other moving up to cut their ship off only to be matched by the ship's armament soon ready to be let loose. Quite the situation with little in the ways of making things any less messier, a fact Geu'rach clearly didn't mind at all. Until the guns of the Monroe finally opened up, the Auval’kotor figured his presence would be more valuable in intercepting any boarders, assuming they could carry it out.

"Captain," Gue'rach began as he admitted his heavy voice over ship's secured comms while expressing his best Basic he could muster, "where shall you have me? I am armed and well prepared."

Carthus stared at the dashboard in front of him, counting the minutes that stood between him and getting some sleep. There were still several hours left. Absence of such long trips at the helm was something he missed from his fighter jock days. Someone else would take the long haul, he just had to be in the launch tube ten minutes before arrival. To pass the time, he wondered about the source and reason of the disturbing distress call. ”‘Stranded. Planet is…’. Perhaps someone landed a survey team without knowing what wildlife lived there? ‘So many dead...’ Hungry wildlife, by the sound of it. ‘Oh, God…!’” He sneered ”If there is a god, you are being eaten by his creations. Why would he bother with helping you lot?” Given the screaming in the background, he doubted they would find anything besides scattered remains. They still had a day's trip ahead of them just to get there. He looked out the window, still not quite sure about who put it in the CIC. A full day. And most of it spent in this chair, with the same picture in front of him.

A warning light on his console flared up, alerting him about an anomaly with the jump drive. But before he could see what exactly was wrong, it became apparent by itself as the Monroe shuddered slightly before being violently jerked aside as it was pulled out of FTL. Having neglected the seatbelts, Carthus was thrown out of his seat like a rag doll. It took him a few seconds to pick himself up. Cursing the dull pain in his forehead, he ignored the threat being broadcast and strapped himself in, going over the ship’s basic systems. No damage. Not yet, anyway. He took a moment to look at some of the ships he assumed were the attackers. An assortment of junk with engines strapped to it. The ship shook again as a round hit them. Engines and guns, apparently. His fingers ran across the controls as the Captain entered.

“It’s Carthus with a ‘u’, sir.” he whispered under his breath at the mispronunciation of his name as he fired the dorsal, port-aft and starboard-bow RCS thrusters, sending the Monroe downwards relative to its position in a left spin. ”Just like a fighter, except bigger. Keep moving, don’t move in straight lines for more than a few seconds, the enemy that kills you is the enemy you cannot see.” Those were the basics, hammered into his memory by 55 years of active service. One of the ships was listing, its weapons firing at nothing. That would be the easiest to get past. Maybe if that ship got between the Monroe and the rest of the fleet, they’d stop firing to avoid further damage to one of their own. ”Worth a try.” he decided, arresting the spin and burning toward the vessel.

As the Monroe made its way toward its intended destination, Carthus kept making small, random changes in heading and attitude to throw off the enemy gunners and make it harder for their targeting software to compensate. This would also make any attempts of a boarding action harder, though far from impossible. On the downside, it also made the AI’s job of firing back equally harder. But it was a machine, it would find a way. Otherwise, it wouldn’t be there.

His original plan was shot to hell when another one of the enemy ships came into his view, filling half of the window. Despite their appearance, those wrecks were quite agile. Carthus turned the ship ninety degrees to the right and fired the forward thrusters for a few seconds, reversing around the mobile junkyard that cut them off, but that landed the Monroe just a few hundred meters from where they begun. Carthus tried a different direction, but a similar scenario played out. Perhaps crippling one of the ships would create a window large enough to slip through.

“So what’s the plan Captain? Can’t jump away and they aren’t too excited about us leaving this box of theirs either. I don’t think they’ll let us bounce around like this for much longer, sooner or later they’ll clip our wings and we’ll be at their mercy or stuck drifting away into space.”

This isn't want Raymond wanted. Carthus was doing an impressive amount of maneuvers to keep them from getting hit, while the Monroe's artillery struggled to find a target... But She wasn't meant for extreme combat. The Monroe was a expedition ship; which meant that they had some amazing armor and shields just in case of debris and other things floating in space, but also for these types of scenarios... And no matter what Raymond did with Kaite to try and improve on their offense, they were limited by the Committee and the ship's capabilities. Raymond wasn't going to give up hope yet. His ship has been through a lot over the three years of its voyage, and has saved Ray many times.

But now, as the pirates slowly surrounded the Monroe, and gave the message, Ray's brows furrowed, his eyes fixed on the view outside. "The hell you are... Carthus, when I tell you, I need you to drop the Monroe down as fast as you can, and do your best to squeeze through the damaged ship, get the best angle to avoid some fire... I know, easier said than done. But I got faith. Tango, lock the cannons on the bottom of the ships, hopefully we can steal a couple punches before they react."

A voice entered his ear, a very deep one that he recognized as Gue'rach, someone who looked like a one man army. "Gue'rach, I got a question for you... How fast does that suit of yours go? And how do you feel about sniping some pressure points on the back of a maneuvering ship?" The question seemed casual, but he was crazy enough to do it at this point. "If we can get Nexus or Kaite to get some information about the ships, including their weakpoints, you can take a shot at them out of the hangar door, if you're up for the challenge."

Yeah, it was a crazy plan, but he didn't really see another option. He wasn't going to lose his ship to a bunch of pirates that got a jump on them. Call him prideful, or stupid, but he'd rather die than for that to happen. He also had a few non-combatants on board, and although he knew they could most likely take care of themselves (especially Rae), he didn't want them to know what it feels like to be taken hostage by insane space pirates.

So, if everything were to work out, he would have the ship dropping, Tango shooting, Geu'rach shooting at Kaite's coordinates that he sends to him on his HUD, and Raymond can set the coordinates for their warp drive. "Alright, anyone who knows how to man a cannon, get to the bridge. I need those weakpoints sent to Geu'rach soon. On my mark..." Ray stared at the ships, the Monroe had yet to respond or do anything, put the ships slowly started to move forward, seeming to think that the Marauders wouldn't be stupid enough to actually try and resist.

Raymond climbed into a control system that operated one of the cannons manually, locking in on Tango's coordinates. "Go!"

The rest is history as the damaged ships intersected with The Monroe, pulling them out of their own journey and demanding their ship to replace their own. What they hadn't counted on was a reply in the way of 'no', so thoroughly pronounced with one of their ship's controls scrambling to the point of being temporarily put out of commission.

No sooner had Kaite exited the hall closet then was he thrown to the floor from the halt catching up. Comms buzzed along with readings from his eyepatch, displaying the mess the crew had found itself in the middle of. It was certainly a curious string of events, being stopped by a crippled band of ships, especially since readings read the undamaged ship as being a civilian cargo freighter. How the other ships survived their jumps or what had even happened would have to remain a mystery. Pressing issues like the slowly encroaching boarding craft and the unafflicted pirate ship which scanners read were locking weapons after seeing The Monroe behaving uncooperatively.

Kaite paced in the short lift ride it took to get to the bridge, nervously shaking his hands at his sides and giving a few small hops before the door opened and he darted to his station. "Signink in, captain...establishing suggested firing sequence" he read off, having already done most of the work with the gauntlet and eyepatch and needing only to sync with the terminal to upload the scans and firing arcs.

The optic port on Nexus dimmed to a waver. The machine had heard the directive from the Captain. Analyzing weak points was a much more difficult job than controlling systems of a ship. One had to discern if power fluctuations were a point of weakness via intensive long-period wear or just rapid use. That being said, even pirates held onto some logs of ship-repairs and the like. Scanning through the frigate it had already partially invaded, Nexus located repair orders. Mitigating more than a handful of cores to begin injecting Nexus' own code into their ships, the progress on total system control was heavily decreased. It would now take twice as long, but Nexus was able to gain insight on all the ships.

"Captain, three ships henceforth known as Alpha, Bravo and Charlie. Interior ship scans state Charlie as the most heavily fortified, however we are in the process of over-riding control to core systems. Direct main fire at Alpha and Bravo. Alpha sustains the most damage, with several bulkheads and airlocks crippled. Bravo misses a structural component - the wing - but remains intact." The machine informed the Captain of what it had found preliminary on the ships, as its own intended purpose for Charlie.

The machine switched its broadcast mode to a more open projection. "Geu'rach, if you read, we are sending locked positional updates on where you are to fire the weapon. With calculated movement projections and weapons spread the shell should strike within the breach of Alpha. Intended purpose is to suffocate remaining members on board or quarantine them to unimportant sections of the ship for later capture; whichever occurs first. Carthus, Bravo reports of multiple weapon repairs in recent times. Their weapons are faulty and/or improperly set. If you must take a hit, attempt to force Bravo into performing it."

The machine paused, checking on the progress of flooding Charlie's mainframe. It had already began working, marginally. The system was slower to respond, with a second of lag to every action. This was incredibly advantageous, but the stress was taking hold on Nexus from extended use mitigating its cores. A deep rumble from within the machine pulsed through the ship. Plates in the robots chest slid out then open to the sides to reveal eight ports, four to each side. Two on either side suddenly began venting steam in long cloud-like burst. The venting ceased after a quick five second burst. The heat had been building up too great to diffuse through the thermoplastic properly.

Varieties of different lush planet life from all over the galaxy covered almost every inch of available space in this singular room, the room resembling more of a greenhouse than a place a person would sleep in and let alone live in. The floor had small walk ways, each one leading to the only clear spots that the plants had yet to invaded in the small bedroom space but that was the way the owner preferred it since it reminded her a bit of home. It wasn't to say that she collected them for her own pleasure though since almost every plant within the confines of the area had a medical purpose but she wouldn't deny the scent of the flowers were relaxing and the feel of the foliage gave the utmost comfort. Unfortunately, even the plants held no effect on Luirae Driani this day as her thoughts were a million miles away and she was still on edge from the earlier meeting.

At this very moment, the multicolored woman was arched over her desk and listening to the recorder that sat on the neat little desk as her free hand quickly scribbled down notes while the other kept rewinding the data tape to listen once more to ensure nothing was missed.There was no doubt that they would be met with a slaughter but what had it been....Animal.....indigenous species or is it a factor that even the Committee is cautious about? Why else would they send someone to brief us instead of using the Holo-Cast as per usual? Those were only some of the thoughts swirling around in her mind and no matter how many times she replayed the tape or made notes of anything that seemed unusual, it wasn't helpful. A soft sigh left her lips as she plopped back into her chair, tilting her head up to the herbage ceiling and wishing she were closer to figuring out the answers to the questions plaguing her.

It was a positive thing that she had thrown her long hair up in what the humans call a "ponytail" (such strange names humans had for things) earlier for Rae would surely be racking her fingers through it once more which is why she had pulled it up in the first place. Orange-ish irises slowly looked away from the roof, her focus going back to the desk as she reached for the porcelain tea cup, taking a long slow sip of the warm liquid as she let her mind slow down a bit and focus not on what happened but what she would need to do if their were survivors.

Rae changed gears, placing her cup down before standing up to head to the infirmity when the ship did a violent jerk causing her to stumble forward. She braced herself, the crystals on her body hardening to take the impact as she flung across the floor and smashing into the wall. Pots lay shattered across the ground, plants overturned and in chaos after the disruption from FTLT. Luirae groaned, pushing herself up and looking over the damage of the room before looking at what had befallen of her own body. A few clay shards had imbedded into her skin, but lucky not deep and she was covered in dirt. The minor cuts littered on her body were already healing as she started to yank out the pieces, staining the once white tank top green and leaving holes in their wake. She pushed herself up, not wasting anytime fussing over cuts that would be gone soon and she grabbed her gun belt, slinging it around her waist with a snap.

Bare feet padded against the metal floor as Rae rushed to the bridge the Captain's voice ringing through the speakers. "Crew of the Monroe to your positions! We got a pirate raid, four ships one injured. Make yourselves useful, and get to work! Anyone with a fighter get to it. We need to analyze their ships, find their weak spots, someone get on that!
She finally reached the lift, slamming the button only to find it in use and quickly moving on to run up the stairs.

The Captain’s initial question was odd at first. Gue’rach could have reactively gone into specifics regarding his suit’s capabilities but knew better in the end that this was not the time to detail such irrelevant facts and foresaw an intent behind the query. The follow-up question confirmed his suspicion as the Captain sought his opinion and likely his interest about putting a few holes into the attacking ships, provided the firing solutions would be offered from his crew mates.

His suit had minutes previously detected aggressive changes within the Monroe's orientation despite him hardly feeling the effects. He concluded that the ship was taking evasive action in an attempt to escape the pirates efforts in boarding the vessel. Shame. Gue'rach would have liked to have greeted the pirates in person but it was evident that the Captain was not going to give the raiders any advantage over his vessel and would rather fight head-on if necessary. It was the not the fight he had anticipated on, however the notion thrilled the Auval’kotor warrior nevertheless and made him all the more eager to join the fray.

"I would enjoy the challenge," Gue'rach brassly replied.

Gue'rach immediately stowed his weapon to his suit's magnetic seal, seeing as how his Thomu Felma, however dangerous it was to any bipedal organism, would do very little against the hulls of raiding ships, even in their decaying states. With his crewmates probably nearing their analysis of the pirate vessels, he took no relaxation of the situation and hurried over to the hanger's armory, each heavy his footfalls resonating across deck. Pulling back the armory doors revealed a decent collection of ordinance pieces, ranging from hand-operated cannons to spare ship-weaponry and secondaries. He made his choice upon dialing-in the unlock code and authorization for one of the secured weapons, prompting several mechanical arms to unfold and extracted a deployable autocannon from the store's confines. Assisted by his suit's limb enhancers, Gue'rach grabbed and hoisted the heavy piece over his shoulders and began jogging toward the hanger doors.

Upon arriving, he eased the heavy weapon off and rested between his right arm while interacting with the hanger door controls. The facility alarms soon blared with warning beacons beginning to rotating in their respective corners of the hanger, warning any unprepared personnel that the premise was about to be depraved of oxygen in preparation of the hanger doors and their bulkhead seals to unlock and retract for vacuum exposure. Luckily for him, he was the only one present. After the warning had passed, Gue'rach could see his HUD's environmental survey advising him of the declining oxygen levels within the hanger though the report ultimately didn't mean much to him since his suit had already secured a breathable atmosphere for him.

Once the hanger finally became airless and all essential hardware such as the fighters were locked to the floor securely did the last airlocks slide in to the hull along with the doors. Gue'rach's suit, reacting to the encompassing changes of the environment quickly magnetized to the floor's surface just as he began to feel weightlessness of gravity trying to take over him. He grabbed the autocannon again and slowly made his way out the hanger door and on to an extended plank where he then positioned himself and armed the now featherweighted weapon over his arms.

Eventually, the machine known as Nexus soon contacted him with the targeting solution data the Captain had promised earlier. Targeting information quickly filled his HUD, highlighting his quarry designated as Alpha with constantly shifting projectile paths as the Monroe continued down her slippery maneuvers. His suit already began assisting him as he took careful aim at his first target and allowed his crosshairs to sync up with the first solution. As Nexus pointed out, it was clear the pirate vessel in his sights was in bad shape with noticeable structural wear and missing external components. Still space worthy overall but certainly not ideal for combat, especially for what it was about to endure.

"Very well," Gue'rach responed with a hint of insistent glee, "they'll rue they day they've chosen their prey so poorly!"

Having been granted the order to engage, Geu'rach wasted no time and squeezed the firing mechanism of autocannon. Despite the effects of the vacuum of space suppressing all sound, Gue'rach could still register the muffled localized discharge of the weapon firing. A second passed by and the round went right on target, penetrating the hull of the pirate ship's low bow and instantaneously detonating. The ensuing explosion tore a noticeable hole in to the vessel as fragments of the weakened hull became spaceborne thanks the ensuring decompression.

Gue'rach roared in triumph as he set loose another shot, this one driving in to the starboard section and blasting out a large gash into the ship. The savage result exposed two decks to the void and threw anything that wasn't properly sealed in out in to space. The exact amount of damage or casualties he was inflicting was unbeknownst to him from his distant position, whoever he remained focused on each solution and continued his assault upon the injured raider, progressively dismantling the Monroe's foe with each successful impact.

”Drop down, how do you ‘drop’ something in microgravity?” He thought as he tried to keep making unpredictable changes to direction and speed to avoid the pirate’s uncertain fire. Narix commanders would issue these orders by stating the desired speed, heading and inclination relative to the ship’s current attitude, but if this was the new commander’s way, he’d have to adapt. Was this standard for Humans? And if it was, how did the Human military survive for so long? He hoped his new captain did not think in two dimensions. Perhaps Human soldiers let artificial intelligence think for them? Carthus had to hope he understood what was asked of him. He’ll find out later. That, or they get killed if the maneuver fails or he does something the commander didn’t want. Barring the last five years, this seemed like business as usual.

Their assailants were careful, understandably, as they needed their ship intact by their own admission. The only destructively violent action would likely be taken against the crew itself. How he wished he had his rifle with him, but on the other hand it served as motivation to not let the space scum board at all.

At the captain’s word, events were set in motion. The Monroe’s weapons sprung to life, focusing mostly on the damaged vessel, designated ‘Alpha’ by the machine that has taken up residence in the cargo hold. A stream of tracers tore into the Alpha, sending a shower of equipment and hull fragments loose like a wide-spread buckshot. Better to avoid those. A few more bursts such as that one would no doubt seal the ship’s fate. In spite of the situation, an amused grin appeared on Carthus’ face.

Just as Raymond gave the word, Carthus turned the ship ninety degrees down and fired the main thrusters, slowly ‘pulling up’ again in a tightening arc that would land the Monroe on a path towards the Alpha. Then he would just have to make sure he didn’t accidentally send the Monroe on a collision course with the pirate vessel, make corrections in case some of the hostile ships tried to block them again like the last two times and evade incoming fire, if at all possible. Hopefully the gunners would have a good enough shot at their intended targets. The more damage they could inflict upon the pirates now, the less effort it would take for someone sent to finish the job, but getting away was a priority. Maybe after getting that distress call sorted, the Monroe would be sent to intercept this band, this time on their terms. A little payback, the crew would certainly be motivated. Every few seconds, his gaze wandered to a row of indicator lights running along the top edge of his instrument panel, especially those that would alert him to engine damage, fires in crew compartments or drops in air pressure. He dreaded the moment they would light up.

Achieng was only now realizing that she may have made a mistake. What was she doing out here, in the middle of a battle? She was a therapist, someone who healed, not... not a combatant!

And yet, here she was. She felt the water in her tank sloshing in a disturbing way, as the ship took another attack. She felt ill, and she knew it wasn't her body. After all she'd done to make a new life, after all the schooling and training and accolades, now on the first real assignment, she was back into a battle. How... ironic.

Achieng gripped her fear by it's tailfin and held it down, straightening up. It wouldn't be good for the crew to see her so scared. Certainly they'd probably all been in worse than this. If she couldn't handle it, then they would not trust her with their stories, and rightly so.

"Come on, Achieng. Courage. You've been through worse." She started her tank down the hallway, planning to join the others on the bridge. Fear or not, she did not want to be alone.