@Gardevoiran

"Hey, I didn't say anything at all." Stryker said, throwing one hand up in a mock-surrender "You don't have to impress me. Happy for you, about... you know. I know it's been a while for you, but in the future, you really ought to close up the door to the cockpit. I can't speak for anyone sleeping downstairs here, but I had my door closed up and it still sounded pretty loud.... like a screaming banshee."

He chuckled briefly at his own joke. It was all in good fun, Tib had to know that from his tone of voice alone. Still, he thought he caught her blushing for a second, that was sort of cute.

'Get ahold of yourself man, it's just Tib.'

Pax walked in, looked around awkwardly, then left again in a hurry. Stryker tried to wave hello, but he took off too quickly.

"Anyway," he said, a bit more straight-faced "SAL mentioned that the ship is back to 100%. We're supposed to be waiting for another Alliance ship, but according to the guy that dropped off Henry here, they're running late. Our docking clearance is still good for another few hours, so if anyone's got business on the Station, do it now. Tib, I'll be up there to help with pre-departure checks when I can. First I gotta see what the overlords have planned for us this time."

He finished off his second cup and walked out of the kitchen, waving the small black Alliance envelope like a fan. On the way back up to his quarters, he repeated his message about their approaching departure to play over the loudspeakers for those who weren't in the galley. He walked in to his room and deposited the envelope along with his datapad onto the desk, turning to find a bit of a strange sight. The door to his ensuite bathroom was open and from where he stood, Stryker could see the mirror was fogged up. He'd taken a hot shower that morning after getting up, but surely the steam would have dissipated by now? Curious.

The following is a collaboration between @Crossfire and myself.

---

“Well, maybe not all day,” she replied, her eyes falling on the envelope as she’d suddenly remembered she had to read the DNA results sooner or later. Amy’s mood changed in an instant, and she tapped Grayson’s hand so she could sit up in bed, the covers falling to her lap. “I guess I might as well just rip the band-aid off, right?” she motioned towards the envelope before looking back at Grayson.

“Yeah, best ta get it over with. Here, I’ll get it, gotta hop up for a sec anyway.”
Grayson pulled the covers off himself and crawled out over Amy, the floor was cold on his bare feet, he could see why she didn’t want to get up. He picked up the envelope and laid it in her waiting hands, then grabbed out a pair of socks from the drawer and quickly pulled on his pants from last night and a plain white shirt.
“Gonna run to the Men’s, back in jus’ a min Ames.”

Amy gave him a “you’re leaving me now?” look as Grayson walked out, but she took a deep breath and realized that he was giving her space. It was obvious she couldn’t put it off any longer. Amy pulled open the edge of the envelope before she hooked her finger to open it up the rest of the way. She sighed, then unfolded the results page.

It was a positive DNA match.

A quivering hand covered her mouth. She suppressed the urge to cry, her breaths growing a bit irregular. Don’t freak out, don’t freak out. She was related, but you don’t remember meeting her before. She was practically a stranger...

After a few moments, Amy managed to calm herself down a bit. She simply stared off into space absent-mindedly, her thoughts taking her to her childhood.

Grayson groaned as the harsh fluorescent light of the bathroom hit his eyes. His headache intensified as he shuffled in and leaned over the sink for a minute. He splashed some cold water up into his face and cupped his hands under the flow to get a bit of water into his dry mouth and sore, parched throat. He felt a little better after that and returned to the room to find Amy, blank faced and deep in thought.

“Ames, ya ok love?” he said as he sat on the edge of the bed and put a hand on her shoulder. The results paper sat on Amy’s lap, he didn’t read the whole thing, but the words ‘positive match’ jumped out at him.
“Whatever ya need lass, I’m here.”

“It just seems that…” she bit her bottom lip, trying not to cry, “everyone from my family seems to die, you know? It’s frustrating, like, I can’t catch a break…”

She looked at him, her watery eyes turning a bit red. But despite getting extremely close, she didn’t cry, not that time. “I’m sorry, it’s just sometimes I don’t know how to take bad news. But...what do you say we go get something to eat?” she asked, wiping her eyes as she did her best to try to smile.

“I know the feeling Amy, felt it a few times, caused it more. Hell, I contributed to yer pain, an’ though it was to save yeh, there’s not a day goes by that I don’t regret havin’ to kill ‘im. But, you listen here, I’m not goin’ anywhere, yer stuck wi’ me ‘til the end of the world. That, or until ya get sick of me.”

He caught her eye and grinned jokingly as he took his hand off her shoulder. It dropped to her lap, and he gave her leg a reassuring pat before standing up.
“Aye, let’s go. Bad news gets a lil easier to digest on a full belly.”

Tibulass listened closely as Stryker spoke, if only because her ears were forcing herself to due to the sensitivity. It was about halfway through another sip of coffee that Stryker brought up how the door was apparently open. The sudden admittance of that was enough to cause Tibulass to choke on her coffee. A few moments of brief panic passed before Tib placed the drink down, taking one deep breath before she looked at Stryker with a darkened scowl. "... I always close that door... did you... sneak a peak?" Tib tilted her head to the side jokingly, but the red on her face was enough to convey embarrassment. She knew the door was closed, for certain, or she knew it was closed when she walked in.

Then again... she did use his shower.

After the panic and such was aside, the rundown of the next few hours was given. It wasn't much time, but it was most certainly enough to go and buy more clothes for her. All she bought last night was a toss-around set, she still needed a fair amount of clothes. Tibulus had tons of old clothes, but they were all for small-sized men. Except for the bomber jacket, though. That was way too good to get rid of, even without the fact that it was a size or two too large.

As she was walking out of the Revenant, Tib pulled her communicator out of a small bag she carried on her. Sure, it was a throw away and cheap one, but it was reliable before then. Dialing up Stryker, the girl walked towards the nearest department store while checking the bag for the cash she carried around.

"I'll be back before long. I need to go grab a few more clothes and other things." The viking paused hesitantly, finally exhaling as she spoke again. "Don't... leave without me. Please." Ugh... those words felt awful. They were too genuine for the viking's taste.

@Vampire Stepdad

Varrus turned his gaze away from his equipment and toward Kotze. Just an examination on the shoulder? Are you sure? Varrus tilted his head downward to mimic disappointment since his face couldn't really give others a reading. That's a shame, the potato scooper really would have help bring out those pretty eyes. He said as he slowly put away an actual potato scooper. He walked over to Kotze and then stepped behind him to examine his shoulder. Did you dislocate it? That's what it looks like. I'll pop it back in place. Just relax. It's your first time with me so I'll be gentle....sorry. That came out wrong.

Varrus bent the affected side's elbow to 90 degrees. He began to grip the the elbow with both hands and apply a traction away from Kotze. Taking one hand off the elbow and placing it on the forearm. He slowly externally rotated the elbow. He continued to maintain traction on the elbow with his other hand. He listned for a popping sound and felt the shoulder. He waited to feel the ball of the humerus back in its socket.

That should do it. Varrus took his hands off of Kotze and walked over to his table. I'm required to document all the injury and the procedure taken to fix the injury. I also need to document if any medications are administered. Would you like for me to pescribe you something? I could give you something simple for the pain though it won't be unbearable. On the other hand, my specialty in the medical field was augmentation and biochemistry, I'm always looking to test new chemicals I have developed. I could give you something I created and see the results.

Varrus walked over to one of his cases and opened to reveal several syringes and vials of strange liquid. You don't have to if you don't want to but I'm sure I could pay you back. I'm a doctor, I do have a fortune that the alliance never got their hands on. I could pay you for the time. Varrus then turned to face Kotze. I could help with other things as well. For one, those weak exercises you do to keep us out your mind won't do. My specialty was forcefully extracting info from someone's mind during interrogation. Also, as Illtihids, telepathy is our main form of communication. Keeping us out is always more difficult. I could train you to strengthen your mind if you wish.

Kotze couldn’t tell if the doctor was joking or not, but he chuckled regardless. With most species, the agent saw right through them; that skill went out the window when the subject had a mass of tentacles for a face and spoke directly into your mind. No, he couldn’t gather enough from body language alone either, so Varrus remained an enigma for now. That made him nervous. “What makes you think I ha-“ Kotze started with a raised eyebrow, but was cut off by his own harsh grunt as the shoulder returned to its socket. As far as pain went, he’d had worse. When the limb slid back into place, he felt a sort of grim satisfaction, like a missing piece returned to the puzzle. If that were the case, though, Kotze was missing more than a few pieces.

“Thank you, doctor. If I tried that myself, I’d be needing another one of these,” he said, nodding to his prosthetic. Kotze rotated his shoulder gingerly, the arm still significantly limited in mobility. He relied heavily on his cybernetic, born with the curse of left-handedness, but going without the flesh wouldn’t do. Varrus displayed his collection of experimental drugs, arousing Kotze’s curiosity. This ship certainly didn’t skimp when it came to personnel, especially on a so-called suicide mission.

“You don’t have to convince me to be your guinea pig, Doctor Varrus,” he said with an easy smile, standing up lazily. “But I might take you up on the lessons. First one’s free of charge, though.” Kotze despised the thought of spending any more time in the medbay than he had to, but he couldn’t spend the next two weeks with the arm dangling limply by his side. A telepath poking around in his head was somehow even more unappealing, a trained interrogator no less, but learning to block psychic attacks would be invaluable. Then again, maybe he could just find a back-alley surgeon to splice some new tech into him, something that would mask his mental presence to telepaths. One more implant wouldn't hurt. Kotze wondered if the Illtihid could see the cracks spreading in his mind, or if the internal façade was as effective as his external one. No, he couldn’t trust the doctor yet. Hell, Kotze felt he'd spend the rest of his time aboard the ship avoiding him. “And I hate to rush you doctor, but I’m in a bit of a hurry. I think we’re missing breakfast,” he added, yet another smirk punctuating his sharp features. The mask never faded, even when he knew the telepath could see through it. Perhaps he'd worn it too long, and it was simply part of him now. Fused on, like so many other bits and pieces of his body. He couldn't give a damn about breakfast, only escaping the small white room.

The occupants of the common room slowly filtered out, so Henry thought he'd do the same. He walked down the hall to room number 11, opened the door, and entered. Ugh... I need to fix this place up he thought, gazing at the neatly decorated room. He left his bag by the door and began to change the room to his comfort. He dismantled the bed, stacking the frame in one corner and tucking the mattress in the other. He opened his bag and took out a data pad, a gun, and a small shield generator. He put the shield generator in his pocket, and zipped it up. Next, he stashed the rest of the room's contents in the same corner as the bedframe so the room was bare except a stash in one corner and a mattress in the other.He opened his data pad and recovered an old music file, allowing the melody to fill the room as he sat in quiet reflection.

The officer that had escorted him here was right, Henry was scum. But he loved it. Freedom from law is something to revel in. Stryker seemed to have a more genuine concern, even without knowing that Henry had provoked the officer. One event isn't really fair to judge somebody on, so he disembarked from that train of thought. The Harrison fellow was probably the cook. Seemed fine. Food is necessary to humans, so that's a bonus. Idly, he wondered if there were more crewmembers and when he'd meet them. Oh, and the pissed off lady who just took food and left. Henry guessed that she was pissed with Stryker, and it had something to do with what had to be Tib and the cranky lady mating. How Stryker had anything to do with that eluded Henry, but humans' minds work in weird ways.

@Xandrya

Grayson and Amy's breakfast had been a pretty dull affair.... outside of meeting a new recruit to the team and getting informed by the others that Tibulass and Matija had hooked up, a fact that had left them both a bit shocked, to the extent they were still discussing it now as they walked out into the common area.
".... An' I mean, it's not anyone could've seen it comin' eh? But good for them. Hey, I gotta get up to the workshop inna bit, finish calibratin' that new software in our armors, plus I'm neck-deep in service jobs on the entire rifle stock, best get to it 'fore the captain calls his meetin'. So wha's on your agenda fer today Ames?"




Tibulass stepped into the docking bay of the Revenant, holding two large bags full of clothes as she carefully looked from side to side. She didn't wanna get caught by a specific person carrying all this nonsense. They'd never let her hear the end of it.

She walked carefully through the Revenant's bay and halls before she made it back to the somewhat-familiar smell of the cockpit. It still had that slight alcoholic night aroma to it, but it also smelled like... well, her room. Sighing with relief, Tibulass tossed the clothing bags towards the stairs before climbing into the pilots seat and doing a quick check of the controls.

Stryker had finished reviewing the briefing and scheduled a meeting with the crew to happen shortly after takeoff. The dock master had pinged the ship moments before with a 'gentle reminder' that their time was up, they had to take off within the hour, or pay for another day. Hoping Tib had finally returned, Stryker walked down the hall from his room towards the cockpit, whether she was back or not, he had to start the pre-takeoff checks.

"Oh good, you're back" he said as the door slid open to reveal Tibulass already in her seat, she barely acknowledged him walking in. He sat in the co-pilot's chair and started up the console. As he waited, his eyes were drawn down the stairs, where he could see a large shopping bag lying on its side, a few articles of clothing spilling out.

"Did a little shopping then?" he asked tentatively, just looking for a way to break the silence.

"Yeah. Just a littOH SHIT-" Tibulass rushed out of her seat to the stairs as she grabbed her clothing bags and chucked them at her bed, the articles staying in their bags as they flew towards their destination. Immediately after, Tib grabbed the five or six pairs of underwear that had fallen out of the bags and chucked them hard towards the bed as well. Interestingly, none of the clothes were neutral colors. They were all shades of red and orange. Peculiar.

Blushing hard, the viking returned to her seat and sat back down, preparing the ship for the takeoff procedure. She didn't dare turn to face Stryker, so she didn't. She stared forward and simply spoke to him. "T-thank you for not leaving me behind..." she choked out, twiddling her hair in her free hand. "So... what's this next mission we have to do? I am kind of leading us there, after all."

Stryker chuckled to himself at her reaction and the flustered look on her face as she climbed back up the stairs. The underwear he'd seen left very little to the imagination, it was a strange sight that conflicted hard with his mental reasoning that she was still just the same old Tibulus, just in a woman's body.
'Stop it. Behave.' he told himself.

"We'd never leave you behind" he said simply, eyes pointed down at his console as he ran through the pre-flight checklist "Someone's gotta fly this bucket and you're the best we've got by a long shot. Now, speaking of that, just wanted to check before we even started the engine.... you're good right? Ready to step back behind the wheel full-time? If so, we're headed out into Federation space, hold on I'll get the coordinates."

"Well... I'm not ready for full time, never again, but you taking the wheel every several hours or so we should be fine." Tibulass looked back at Stryker, a little scared to look him dead in the eye. He just saw her underwear, for shits sake. "And for the record, I'll be fine getting us out of here and into deep space." Tibulass initiated the prerequisites to the takeoff before asking the same question from earlier.

"Right, well, just let me know when you need a break." Stryker looked across as she smiled a thanks. She had a cute smile.
'What's wrong with me today?

"Again, what's the next mission? Is it the cocks-out-rock-out kind or the delicate kind? I'm up for either." Tibulass adjusted her outfit with one hand while slowly bringing the ship off the ground with the other. Despite the loss of appendages from the Funganoid-to-Human transition, she was doing just fine with piloting this big ass cargo ship. "Just tell me what sector we're goin' to and I can get us there."

"Not sure precisely what the plan is this time out. We're headed into Federation space. Teravainen, in the Solad Q'artex System." Stryker punched in the coordinates and sent the navigation display across to Tib's console "We've got to rendezvous with some sort of Alliance spy unit who have further orders, though the briefing file here has dossiers on a bunch of people. Safe to assume that whoever they are, we're gonna have to make them disappear.... permanently."

As the conversation died down, the immediate silence was deafening. Stryker could still see her little smile in his head, when suddenly an image of Tib wearing a pair of the very revealing underwear jumped to the forefront of his mind.

'It's Tib. Stop it.' he willed the image away but it kept finding a way back. He had to talk about something... anything.... and then he spat out the first thing that came to his head:

"So, you and Matija seemed like you were having a lot of fun, how was the rest of the night?"

Tib paused and slowly turned to face Stryker. "Fine...? We both fell asleep after we got off..." Tib's face was turning even redder than it already was. She tilted her head at the bounty hunter. "Why are you wanting to get to know me all of a sudden?" She didn't mind the sudden interest, he wasn't that awful of a guy to her. Maybe... no that's stupid. Him, coming onto her? What a rich joke that was! Hah!

Stryker's face went beet-red as she turned the question back on him.

"No reason, just curious to how you're doing these days." he said, locking his eyes down on the data flying across his console screen. That and conversation were the best ways to proceed "You went through quite a big change after all."

"... I mean... there's shit that I can tell you, but you've pretty much learned all you can about Tibulus and Tibulass." The viking was speaking aloud, dead serious in her tone. She pulled a small pad of paper out of her hoodie pocket before she wrote another thing on it, leaving the pad open as she brought the ship out of Helios Station. Interestingly, she still was still piloting with only one hand when she should probably be using two. Weird.

"Yeah, I'd like that."

Stryker absentmindedly activated the immersive flight hologram. It was a bit of a luxury item, but Stryker found it helped his concentration when flying, and when everything was all good, it was easy to look out at the stars and get completely absorbed in thought for a while. The lights in the cockpit dimmed and the small reflector device flipped down from a hatch in the ceiling. Slowly, the walls, the ceiling and the bank of monitors and servers in front of them melted away and a hologrammed facsimile of the space immediately outside the cockpit hull filled the room. It was just the two of them, the shadow of the floor, and their chairs and consoles, floating through space.
"Sorry, forgot to ask. Before you start, you ok with this setting for a bit?"

She still hadn't spoken a word, but the captain noticed some sudden movement and he turned to look only to find it was just her slipping out a notepad and discreetly scribbling something down.
"What's that?" he asked, genuinely curious.

"S-sorry. I was thinking about where in my past I should tell you. I got an idea." Tibulass spoke again after a moment of thought. Returning to her headspace, she decided to toss the notepad to Stryker. "It's a series of possible new identities I'm considering taking up, and this is fine. Don't read it too much, I'm about to tell the story."

---

Unitech Station
Sector 11-9-B
Appx. 9:12 AM

A spaceship sits alone in a landing bay, smack in the midst of all the commotion and ships. The exterior of the ship looked rather ordinary, nothing distinguishing it specifically from the rest of the ships around it, save for the dim lights on inside the ship. A lone, rocky, and burly alien walks through the lane in front of the ships, steadily approaching the dimmed one in the crowd. Checking the wrinkly piece of paper attached to the parcel he was carrying, he stepped up to the ship and knocked on it's underside. A small hatch opened up above the rocky alien before closing once again. After a few seconds, a small ramp lowered, allowing the alien inside the ship.

After climbing up into the ship, the alien looked behind him to see walls, littered and littered with string, pictures, notes, and scribblings. The air was hardly that, but it didn't seem to affect the rocky alien as he calmly waited for the hatch to rise once again, giving him a platform to step on as he approached the driver, tinkering around at a cleared off console. Without hesitation, the rock alien blurted out. "Oi. Wilton."

"Did you make sure you weren't followed?"

"Yeah. I triple checked at every blasted turn, caunt."

"Calm with the obscenities, Yi-Draal. What've I done to you recently?" The chair the pilot was sitting in turned to face Yi-Draal before the pilot looked up at him. He was wearing a leather pilots jacket above a black shirt and a pair of old jeans, the entire outfit accompanied by a red hat. He looked like he came out of a cheesy 1960's flick, but it was something he never cared to take into account.

"Plenny, but this time, issa little bit diff'rent." Yi-Draal passed the parcel to the pilot, who caught it in his hands before placing it behind him, turning his chair to the side. Once again, the pilot addressed Yi-Draal. "Oooh, opening someone else's mail? Isn't that a felony?"

"Like you give a shite. Y'work at a fekkin' cockfighting ring."

"You and me both know that it's my deal with the feds. I get hired as a teller for underground rings, I work a bit to shake the suspicion off me, then I rat them out." The pilot looked back at the package once again before asking "Any traps? Bombs? The good ol' 'Anthrax in the Packing Peanuts' technique?"

"Neh, but the contents're bloody int'restin'."

The pilot opened the parcel and pulled out the note attached to the top. He read it silently to himself before looking under it and noticing the other contents. "... that bastard..."

"Issn' he some kinda race researcher or somethin'? What kinda beef y'got wif'im?" Yi-Draal stepped forward and took a seat, the chair making a noticable squeak under the alien's hefty weight. Logical, he was made of rocks after all.

"He did a few things for me, and he's wanting something in return. Knowing the Alliance, they've got dirt on him. Bad dirt, from the looks of things." The pilot read the note over one more time, suddenly being interrupted by Yi-Draal. "He said y'were the best pilot he ever met."

"Well, when you work for the feds before busting your 'bosses' out of the jam so they can keep on livin', you become quite the getaway driver."

"Ah yeah, the side job."

"Well, it saved your ass, didn't it?" The rocky alien grumbled frustratingly under his breath before the pilot put the note to the side, pulling out the rest of the parcel's contents. A small, white box was the first to be removed, then a manilla envelope that had been left unopened. The pilot turned to Yi-Draal. "Why didn't you check this one?" to which Yi-Draal shrugged. Of course. He was normally quite the letdown on security. The pilot sighed before opening the envelope, to which he pulled out the contents and instinctively pulled his head back in surprise.

"... motherfucker." The pilot chuckled under his breath before tucking the envelope away. "When you have a researcher in the know, he pays out sometimes." The pilot stood up from his seat before facing Yi-Draal once again. "Well, my friend, I've just been given an offer I can't refuse."

"That mean I'm leavin' yer' employ?"

"Indeed it does." The pilot stepped forward and bowed towards Yi-Draal. "I'm guessing you've got loose ends to tie up, so I won't leave those waiting."

"Well, now that y'mention it..." Yi-Draal stood from his seat. took both his hands and cracked his knuckles. "There's one thin' I can tie up right now..."

"I wouldn't do this if I were you." The pilot said intimidatingly. "I promise you, as long as you know that my cap is beet red, you will regret what you might do right here."

Without so much as a moment of time passing, Yi-Draal brought down a rocky fist onto the pilot's head, it shattering against an invisible surface that coated the pilot's body. In an instant, what was Yi-Draal's face turned from overconfidence to immediate perplexion. "Wha...?"

The pilot brought up a hand, clocking Yi-Draal in the chin as bits of shattered stone flew onto the floor of the ship, sparks clearly flying off the glove the pilot was wearing and off of Yi-Draal's rocky mug. What immediately followed was the hatch of the ship opening up once more, revealing the two to be high up in the station Yi-Draal's shoulders and head were resting on only air at that point, and falling would surely mean death.

Yi-Draal looked as a boot was placed on his chest. The pilot's boot specifically.

"I've been in this business for decades, and you thought you could pull that shit on me? Enjoy the fall, cunt."

Then, a simple push was all it took.

The pilot closed the hatch behind him as he turned to face the helm once again. The manilla envelope was still where he left it. He stepped forward to his autopilot, punched in a few coordinates, and let the ship take it's own course to the destination. He was already long gone from the station before any police were even alerted. The pilot walked to the bathroom of his ship and looked down at the sink, covered with red and orange paint around the drain, and a lit cigar on the side of the sink.

"You've outdone yourself, Jackson. Hopefully the Alliance is too dumb to track Wilton Christopher's identity. Ah, who am I saying, the ship's full of criminals! You just gotta hope there aren't any of your old bosses there. Need a new moniker too... probably something silly and stupid. Tibulus? Maybe... you have time to dwell on it."

---

Tibulass found herself smoking a bit of a cigar once the story was over, smirking happily before snuffing out the barely-lit cigar and tossing it to the side. "Heh... I loved being a crimelord."

Tib looked over at Stryker as she turned over the controls to his seat. "So... I told you my past. Tell me about yours, oh-so-gloriously... l-leader."

Stryker glanced down through the list of names briefly before tossing the book back across the way. He listened intently to Tib's story, noting the supreme irony in a former master crimelord volunteering for a job like Project Revenant. And as the story continued, Stryker gazed out at the faint stars of the Deadzone. Every time they passed through, Stryker couldn't help but marvel at how this entire quadrant of space was so much darker than everywhere else. There were no real stars here, just the faint pinpricks of far-off systems and worlds, and the dull glow emanating from other Deadzone stations, like beacons in the night. The neon-blue haze of a radiation storm on the horizon drew his attention for a second, as did the derelict corpse of a ship long destroyed and scavenged for scrap. Though the sudden smell of the cigar smoke mixing with the booze-and-sex smell that still lingered shook him from his reverie and he turned to find Tib staring at him.

"My story's a tale for another time." he said as he gripped the controls when she tossed command over to him. "Trust me, it's nowhere near as interesting as yours. Although, I could be convinced to share a shorter story, like one of my old jobs"

”Do it. I won’t mind. I’d actually like to learn more about you... a-as a friend.” Tib found herself blushing once again, a hard red color to her face. She would have to facepalm later... why did she like Stryker right now? She didn’t mind, but it was alarming to her.

I mean... her? With someone like Stryker? As if...

"Yeah, ok then." Stryker said. She was acting a little strange too. Must be something going around the ship, and Stryker made a note to himself to confer with Varrus and Harriet about that later.

"Well" he began "This one goes back about a year or so before the Alliance wrangled us up. I was contracted by some guy, he used an alias, like a lot of my clients did, I never cared as long as I got paid. This guy paid me in advance, the full contract, to make the mistress of this prostitution ring disappear. Not a problem under normal circumstances, but she was under heavy protection, and careful about everything she did too. And of course, complicating things was that the client wanted her alive, so it's not like I could've just posted up outside her club, wait for her to come out and put a hole in her head from afar. So I waited, for weeks, to get my chance. I got inside the club as a client, started paying them a visit every night. Finally the madam... ahem 'took notice' and gave me my opportunity. The club shut down shortly after. Come to think of it, that might've been the last time I.... well nevermind."

"... You're kidding, right?" Tibulass leaned forward onto her knees as Stryker finished his story. "You... haven't had sex since then? It's been about 2 or three years!" Tibulass practically shouted that comment. She couldn't believe it, not for a moment. "Someone as handsome as you not fucking for that long? God damn... even I had to get wet after that dry spell of around 60 years..." Tibulass said as she leaned back once again, pausing a little longer before softly continuing. "... it wasn't even... that fulfilling..."

“What!?? No, no, not that!” Stryker stammered out, he felt his face go even more red “I meant, uh, that was the last time I had to bring the target in alive.”

Well this was embarrassing, why had he told that story out of all the ones he could have gone to? That was stupid. He was so wrapped up in his thoughts that he barely registered Tib’s last statement.

“Sorry” he said slowly “what was that last bit again?”

”Matija was absolutely fantastic, but... I dunno...” Tibulass darted her eyes around the vaccuum of space. ”I think I just... just being appreciated felt nice. Maybe that’s why I decided to do the damn surgery, I missed being alive.” Tib shook her head as a brighter light in the deadzone appeared in the holospace area. It was distant, but the pilot was able to zoom in on it fairly well after retaking controls.

”Our destination is that place... uh... excuse me, but what is it?”

"The Solad Q'artex System, yeah that should be it." Stryker said, one hand summoning up a holo-map of Federation territory "Closest system to the Deadzone borders, at least in the southern part of Feddie space. Still a few hours away though, even we flip her to a full-burn."

In the next bout of silence, he stole another glance at Tib. There was something about the way her red hair stood out against the pitch-black backdrop of the Deadzone space. There's no other word for it, it was beautiful.

'Oh hell'

Could there be something more to the suggestive topics of conversation and the strange way she was acting? No, no way, that's impossible. There's no way a woman like that (even given her unique situation) would be interested in a guy like him..... right?

'You're being ridiculous.' he thought as he mentally drove all those thoughts and feelings down. Not enough sleep.'

"Hey, y'alright there?" Tibulass noticed her co-pilot staring at her. She felt flattered and conflicted at that, more than anything else. "You're not coming onto me, are ya?" Tib asked with a joking manner. Imagine that! The mighty bounty hunter falling for such a weird ass reject from the remains of a station explosion! How odd! How unjust! How romantic! Wait...

"... get it in your head, Tib. You're not falling for him... are ya?" She could only think the same question she asked him as she noticed something from just outside the ships view. "Oh shit! Look over there!" Tibulass pointed towards a little speck of green flashes from just a ways away from the ship. It'd be a few minutes to get there, but things didn't look good. "Time to investigate that!"

Hopefully the blush wasn't that noticeable that time...

"Of course not! And I'm fine, just... thought I saw something out there" Stryker managed to splutter out before Tib noticed something going on just off from their flight path. Before Stryker could say anything, his console board lit up with the pulsating green flash of an incoming distress signal.

"Yeah ok, just.. hang back a little, until the radar sensors can calibrate and get a clean scan. Don't wanna dive head first into a situation where we're outgunned...... or a trap."

As he turned off the holo-reflector, he accessed the distress signal tried to hail whoever sent it, but there was no reply.

"Stay alert, I'll address the crew."

"Attention everyone" he started as the loudspeakers whined to life "We're picking up a distress signal, just off our flight course. It's marked urgent, so we're gonna reply. The artificial gravity might be knocked out for a split-second as we turn off-course, so you might wanna hold on to something."

"Roger." Tib fastened her seatbelt as she took the reigns, flying towards the distress signal carefully as she stayed silent for the rest of the flight. When the ship pulled close, Tibulass looked over at Stryker and bluntly said to him. "I-I need you out of here. I gotta pull in carefully, and I need to... sort out my underwear and mind..."

Tib pulled her hood over her face as it became redder than her hair with blush. She couldn't be falling for him! It wasn't right! He was her superior, and he was a douche... but he was a handsome douche... AARGH!

"Right, I'll go suit up and get an anchor, in case we need to pull anything in to the airlock."

It was a strange comment for her to make. Stranger still was the way she covered up her face as he stood up and walked out.

Stryker ran down the hall to the Armory and hurried into his armor. Once he was sealed up tight, he hooked in a miniaturized oxygen tank and grabbed an anchoring system off the walls.

"Medics, get on standby, we may have incoming!" he shouted into the comms as he rushed downstairs.

With breakfast and everything else done and over with, Matija simply crashed on her bed. Koren then had the responsibility of bringing their used utensils back to the galley before he went to do some last minute checks (and calibrations if necessary) on the engines and replaced parts to make sure that the rushed repairs and the adhesives would not fall apart the moment the ship goes past the pre-flight checks before catching a few winks on one of the beds by the engine room. Thankfully they were recently cleaned so he did not need to worry about getting any allergies triggered.

With a sigh, the Juz’ drifts off for what felt like a few moments before he got woken at the sound of movement passing by the slightly ajar engine doors. He was not sure how long he had slept but his eyes peered past the walls just in time to see a blur of white pass by the glass panes. Curious, he walks up and followed the blur to see Matija seemingly trying to sneak past the engine room.

“Ummi..?” The Mecorian stops to look back at the source of the voice, feeling quite caught despite not really doing anything wrong. “Um, yanno… Just. Just tryin’a practice my silent walkin’ without my boots.” The Juz’ gave her a questioning look, to which Matija pouted to. “What? Don’t believe me?”

“Yes. But you cannot be trusted. You said so yourself,” the young man smiled. The Siren sighs and smiles as she shakes her head at the response. The familiarity of their exchange was amusing and comforting. “Fine. Caught me. Heard we needed to get checked-up but uh. See, I ain’t one for needles an’ syringes no more,” she chuckles nervously. “I suggest you come with me and do the same. Don’t really trust anyone here anymore.” The Juz’ found her comment odd but followed her all the same. “What about the human with the burn? You seemed to like him.”

“Uuugh,” the Mecorian groaned, “Yeah but I don’t think we can trust Benjie no more. Not that I trusted him much.”

Unbeknownst to the duo, the man in question was also making their way down through the lower levels of the ship, also in an attempt to get away from the supposed medical exam people were going to be put through. Though he had not heard the entirety of the conversation, he had managed to catch the tail end of it.

Upon hearing the familiar voice of the Mecorian saying that, he felt an almost immediate sense of both anger and betrayal. Even more than one he had previously felt. No longer caring for discretion, he immediately barged inside the room he heard the voice from to interrupt the conversation and also defend himself. ”Oh, so it wasn’t feckin’ enough tha’ you stabbed me in tha’ bum, but now yer tryin’ ta’ turn the rest o’ tha’ crew on me as well?!” he exclaimed as he went inside, breathing heavier than usual from agitation.

Needless to say Matija was startled to know that they had another person listening in on their little conversation. However, the shock washed off fairly quickly as her own anger rolled in at the intrusion. “Excuse you? And last I heard you didn’t give a shit about the people in the ship. Let alone keep bloody promises!”

”Wha-? What are ya blabbin’ on abou’? O’ course I’m concerned about whether people dislike me or not. I LIVE on this bloody ship! He retorted.

“Ohoo yeah sure! You care about your reputation. That’s all there is to ya, ain’t it?!” Matija was about to continue when Koren interjected “I thought we were hiding?” The Mecorian stopped, looking at him, incredulous at what’s happening altogether. “Maybe if we just talk it ou-”

“No,” the Mecorian said firmly but more quietly as she took a seat by the hall of containers. The familiar location would have made her feel at ease. But not at the moment. Not with this situation and this context.

“I’m surprised ya even considered this spot. Cap’s lap too high-brow on ya?” she sneered at the scotsman without looking at him. The very thought of Benny even bothering to come back to their little old spot almost felt like an insult to her.

Benny simply stared at her in wordless anger as she finished her tirade. ”What tha’ bloody feck’s even gotten into ya these past coupl’a days?! Yanno, I actually thought we were friends but what in tha’ nine bleedin’ Hells happened? Is this what ye planned all along, ta’ take me fer a ride an’ blast me out like an airlock vacuum? What even fer?! He exploded, speaking very quickly.

Matija went red with fury. Koren thankfully placed a hand on her shoulder before she could scream to remind her that sounding off the alarms won’t help anyone hide. With a lot of effort, the Mecorian took a moment to calm down. “Look,” she started in a more controlled voice. “Last I checked, ya were busy riding the cap’s dick. So don’t ya start on me for bein’ some cuck just because you’re pissed at me for somethin’ that I didn’t do. Fuckin’, explain ta me what the hell’s happening in that potato brain of yers or I’ll kick ya outta my space.”

Though Matija had been calmed somewhat by the presence of Koren, Benny was still riled up. The dam holding in his anger and confusion from his perceived betrayal had been broken by the confrontation.

”Somethin’ ya dinnae do?! So startin’ ta’ act like a feckin’ stranger outta nowhere after I thought ya were my friend is somethin’ ya dinnae do?! An’ when did I start ridin’ anybody’s dick?! If anyone’s ridin’ anything it’s ya with that viking woman who’s paradin’ around as Tibulus! Why’d ya get all friendly with ‘em so quickly anywae? Have ya two been plannin’ this fer a while? Are they actually a cohort o’ yers ya snuck on tha’ ship? I feckin’ knew it, Tibulus really is dead isn’t he?! An’ ya came up with this convoluted brain transfer story cooked up months in advance in an attempt ta’ infiltrate an’ takeover tha’ ship!” Benny raved, the part of his brain responsible for his paranoia kicking into overdrive at the amount of stress he was feeling, in an attempt to rationalize what was happening.

The longer the Scotsman talked, the more insane it went. So Matija continuously tried to stop him from making a bigger fool of himself but found herself being shouted over before she could even try. More annoyed than angry, she gave him a strong slap on the cheek so he would at least stop screaming at her. When he seemed like he was about to talk again, she decided to bring out the big guns and moved her face closer to his.

Benny brought a hand up to their face to feel the area they had been slapped from, though after the sudden kiss, his hand just stayed there, with him being frozen as his brain had to stop and process what had just happened.

”You’re being a loon an’ I’m almost afraid that yer gonna get a stroke. Plus, I think yer horrible so shut the hell up an’ let me hide in peace.”

The Juz’ who simply stayed as an observer finally piped up with a look of epiphany on him. “Is this what your species call… stress due to… ah. Mating desires? That’s all this is, right?” Matija and Benny looked back at the Juz’ with confused faces. Both equal parts aghast and afraid.

Both of them began trying to defend themselves, consequently talking over each other.
”Now haud on jus’ one-”
“Nobody said nothin’ about no tensi-”
”Tha’s a big stretch fer-”
“Aren’t you supposed to be doin’ something el-”
”W-we’re not doin’ this ‘cause-
“I mean clearly h-he’s the only one affected...”. They both exclaimed, but eventually trailed off, almost in embarrassment. The two could not find it within themselves to even look at each other anymore, so they both retreated to their respective corners where Matija eventually fell sleep to due to the returning headache, whilst the Scot muttered incoherently to himself as they tried to get comfy.

Something suddenly interrupted the whole groups rest however as the ship’s intercom came to life and Stryker’s voice came through, addressing everyone. ”Attention everyone. We're picking up a distress signal, just off our flight course. It's marked urgent, so we're gonna reply. The artificial gravity might be knocked out for a split-second as we turn off-course, so you might wanna hold on to something."

Oh great, more unexpected guests…” Benny muttered as he got up from his seating position on a metal container and braced Skelly on a sturdy looking pipe nearby, anticipating the potential gravity loss. He considered heading back up to get his weapons and gear before they docked with the other vessel. Koren himself had decided to stand and check the engines for the possibility of getting boarded, Matija had managed to wake up from her rest in a fairly annoyed tone to which she pressed herself against one of the ship’s nearby walls in an attempt to continue her rest till the inevitable came.

“Well ain’t that a doozy. Hope we don’t get any new people,” she said more to herself than to Benny. But the effect was more or less the same.

Qoorb faded back into consciousness, and looked all around themselves. Their ship's console was dead, yet there was still power, and the automatic emergency distress signal light was blinking. Good. That meant help was hopefully coming. How they could explain why they were so close to an aged derelict outpost, they didn't know. Their first order of business was to return power to the communications in case they were being messaged. They might even be missing a message happening right now! With a little re-jigging of the emergency battery lines, Qoorb now had a working communications circuit. All they had to do now was wait until rescue or death. There was something relaxing and zen about their very life being out of their control now, and they instead chose to look up and the remains of the attack above them...or would it be below, seeing as how from a gravitational standpoint, there were orbiting the derelict outpost upside down?

While...acquiring materials for their shop, Qoorb was spotted by some kind of pirate craft and disn't have to to leave or open comms before they were fired at and then promptly ignored, while the pirates looted the derelict dry. Not that Qoorb saw any of this on account of being knocked out, but he could see it now. The derelict was a carcass of its former self.

After one last check to make sure his suit was 100% sealed, Stryker set the anchoring system to the wall and attached the other end to his belt. The airlock door slid open and the sudden whoosh of air being sucked out of the docking bay filled his ears before being drowned out instantly by the vacuum of space. Stryker engaged his repulsor boots and slowly floated out towards the immobile escape pod of a single-occupant craft. The ship it has been installed in was nowhere to be seen, ditto for the vessel, or vessels that had attacked.

Stryker's HUD detected signs of life, even though he couldn't see anything through the small port-hole, so he slowly waved his hand in front of it. A gesture meant to mean 'stay calm, we'll get you out of here.'

He disconnected the anchor line from his belt and attached it to the hull of the pod with one of his tracking magnets. The captain wrapped one arm around the line and reached over with his free hand to his Wrist-com to activate the anchor's recall system, he simply held on as the line began to reel itself in, towing the escape pod at a slow and steady pace.

Once both Stryker and the pod were safely back inside, the airlock sealed shut and Stryker removed his helmet and radioed up to the cockpit.
"Tib? We're good, get us back on course."

He walked over the pod and cautiously knocked on the port-hole.
"Hey! You alive in there? I'm gonna open the pod."

Just in case the being inside was hostile, Stryker slipped one hand down by his holstered pistol, the only weapon he had on hand. With the other, he carefully eased open the cover of the emergency access panel and triggered the door lock override.

A Rek sat inside. Groggy and shaken up, but otherwise it looked ok.

"Hey, take it easy, not hostile. Do you understand me? Are you alright?"

The Rek nodded, breathing shakily. "Yes, I'm alright. Just very cold," it replied, before climbing out of the pod. Now that it was standing up, it was huge! It didn't take any offence at the gun. It may or may not be used to it. "My name's Qoorb. Thank you for rescuing me."

"Well we were passing by, couldn't exactly just leave you stranded." Stryker said "Call me Stryker, what are you doing this far out Qoorb?"

Qoorb looked around at their surroundings, taking in the details of the room they were in, before discerning from the color and state of this room that this was unlikely to be an Alliance, Military or Corporation vessel. It was lo-fi but not quite at the 'space dog' level of decrepit. This ship could likely be trusted to hear the truth without turning Qoorb in.

"I was, ah, searching a derelict outpost for salvage, when I was attacked. I'm assuming they were Pirates, because they cleaned out the derelict, and a scavenger wouldn't shoot anyone else down."

"And blew your ship to scrap. Yeah, sounds like pirates." Stryker said, considering the options here. They were already slightly behind schedule, but there could be consequences to revealing the true nature of the ship to a completely unaffiliated entity.

'Screw it' he thought 'Already picked up one stowaway.'

"Alright, so here's the deal. Me and my crew are en route to a job out past the edges of the Deadzone, and we've got a schedule to keep. We can give you a room, food, all the essentials, and once we're done out there, we can drop you off wherever you want to go, how's that sound?"

The Rek shook it's head. "You are very generous, but I do not believe in taking without giving back something. Is there any way I can assist you during my passage?"

"If anything comes to mind, I'll let you know, but for now, let's get you set up and get the doctor in to make sure you're ok."

Stryker motioned for Qoorb to follow him and led the way into the ship proper.

"Your hospitality is most generous. I've never experienced anything like it. I'm both thankful and a little confused." Qoorb remarked as they followed, taking in all of their surroundings as they did so.

"Well, the way I look at it, there's way too much bad in the universe. I've been party to much of it. An opportunity came up to do some good for a change, and I took it. Don't make me regret it. Ah, here we are."

He came to a stop in front of Room 10.

"It's one of the few free rooms we've got, our crew has sort of... ballooned up in the last day or so. I'll introduce you to the others later, we had a meeting scheduled to happen shortly, you're free to join us if you want. Let's see what else? Oh, galley's back that way, the door on the right just past the stairs and the elevator, and the bathrooms are just over there, end of the hall. I know that Rek are genderless, so I suppose I have to get ahead of this: It was an Alliance-built ship originally, and a little behind the times, so I'll have to apologize for the ignorance of my kind, what with the male and female rooms. Don't worry too much about that."

On that slightly awkward note, the captain looked around and slowly said
"So, uh, any questions?"

"Oh, nearly all other registered species are gendered. I take no offense. I just hope that my presence doesn't mean that the room system is too disrupted. I have no questions at present, and I will join the rest of your crew shortly to make introductions."

"Ok, sounds good, I'll see you in a bit then."

They bid farewell and Stryker headed off to remove his armor. As soon as he was back in the cockpit, he rolled his chair around to face away from Tibulass and used the resources available to start a search on 'Qoorb' looking for anything at all across public records, news articles, arrest records and active warrants. He may have shown the Rek kindness in saving it, but he wasn't going to let his guard down and assume everything was all good.

Over the course of an hour or so, his search turned up a high number of very minor infractions, most of which fell under the category of 'illegal scavenging.' There was also a single count of public intoxication that included a mug shot. It was a match to the Rek who was presumably resting downstairs.

"Story checks out." he said to himself. A small beep chirped out from the navigation console.
"And there it is, we've crossed over into Federation territory. Be extra careful now Tib, we can't get flagged en route to the system"

A pair of robotic eyes peeped out from the door to the stairwell, scanning the hall for movement before disappearing back into the doorway. Seconds later, Pax's tall metal frame emerged and proceeded down the hall until arriving at the next corner, peeking once more. Clutching his hands together and holding them towards his side, Pax rounded the bend and slinked quickly down the next stretch of the hallway. His head darted around, making sure he wasn't being followed and hoping that nobody would catch him. Just a little farther... He thought, and within a short moment he was within arms reach of his prize.

Pax opened the door to the storage room and slipped inside, making sure to close it quickly before even so much as turning the light on. A second later, the lights flickered on, revealing an anxious Nagansa clawing another box open. Several other boxes had been moved around and opened as well, and the floor was littered with specks of the boxes and other bits of trash. It seemed rather clear that the avian creature was distressed, to some extent.

"No no no no! Nagansa, paklek! Stop! Please!" Pax exclaimed in a hushed tone, scrambling forward to grab the destructive creature. His hands, however, were full of food scraps - which were consequently flung across the room in his panic. "Ah, damn it... come here!" Pax groaned, struggling to grab Nagansa as she hopped around frantically to avoid his grasp.

Finally, his metal fingers settled in around her slender form, and he brought Nagansa's face to meet his and briskly thwapped her snout. "Bad girl! I told you, this stuff isn't ours! Now look at what you've done! This room is a complete mess!" Pax scolded, extending his leg to try and sweep the food scraps into a pile together on the floor and thwapping Nagansa's snout again.

"No more boxes, got it? Stop breaking boxes, and... I'll give you some Tarberries!" Pax continued, setting the bird down by the food.

"Now eat... I've got some cleaning up to do..." The robot sighed audibly, bending down to put some of the boxes back together and sorted out.

@Vampire Stepdad

Varrus smirked at Kotze. Well, his face kinda moved in a way that might resemble a smirk considering his biological make-up made it extremely difficult to make anything other than a poker face. He began to put away most of the vials he took out though he kept one bottle of pills. It's nothing special. Just some pills to ease the pain. Your shoulder is going to be sore for alittle while. Varrus said as he handed Kotze the bottle. Take two a day, one when you wake up and one before you sleep. Also, a dislocated shoulder is more likely to dislocate again. If you happen to find your shoulder doing it again, fill free to come back. Though I hope next time you come back is because you will let me use the potato scooper. Varrus walked back to his desk and sat down. You go ahead to breakfast. I need to stay here to make sure anyone else who comes by gets examined. Though if you happen to meet anyone down there could you please send then my way. Varrus said before sending Kotze off. Though before Kotze would leave the room, Varrus would say in a rather disturbing tone that would echo through Kotzes head. Thank you for your time.

"Extra careful. I'm only the most careful," Tibulass joked as she kept piloting the ship. Her hood was off her head again, and her hair was up in some kind of bun at this point. It wasn't well made, far from it, but it was working out for her. It'd be fine.

She looked over at Stryker and stood from her chair. "I flicked on auto for a few minutes. We'll be there in about four or five hours. If it's a mission that needs our preparation, you should probably give us all a debriefing. I'll be below trying to sort out my clothes into the drawers that are down there." Tibulass walked over to the stairs descending down to her little room before she turned back again to see Stryker. She wanted to say something, but she didn't know what to say. Finally, after a few moments of hesitation, all that came out was a sigh. She didn't know what to say to him, her mind was just going crazy. She'd be over these feelings within the next few hours... or days... or months... hopefully.

@Crossfire

@Gardevoiran@Xandrya@iTem@BKburke@Rultaos@T2wave@ArkmageddonCat@Silver Carrot@Strange Rodent@Vampire Stepdad@superservo27@sntabe@TheEvanCat

"Hm, yeah, good idea, especially if any of our newer crew mates have any questions"

Stryker spun his chair to find the datapad and turn on the loudspeakers.

“Attention everyone, I was just informed we’re a few hours out from or destination. I want everyone to gather in the War Room in 15 minutes, I’ll share the intel we have on the job. See you there, Stryker out."

As he stood up and prepared to leave he called down the steps.
"Hey, uh Tib? You want the comm link set up so you can listen in?"

A muted 'yes' floated up in response, so Stryker leaned in over her console and flicked the appropriate switches.
"Ok, all set, see you later."

Stryker headed directly to the War Room to plug in his datapad and started to upload all of the briefing files to the holotable as he waited for his audience to arrive.

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




“Oh, so you're gonna be pretty busy then eh? I was actually...I was hoping you could help me with some marksmanship training," Amy stopped for a moment, holding out a hand to stop Grayson as well. "I'm an okay shot but I'm not great, but I want to do better."

“Yeh?” he asked “I mean, we’ve plenty of time ‘til we get wherever we’re goin’, so yeah, we can do that. C’mon up to the armory, we’ll get some gear an’ ammo.”

He led the way upstairs and marched right on in to the armory. Every surface along his desk space and workbench was covered in weapons, all in various states of disassembly.
“What did ya wanna start with lass? 7.72, or somethin’ a little heavier?”

"Uh, yeah, that'll work," she smiled, looking around the various disassembled parts. Sure, some weapons were familiar to her going off of their parts alone, but otherwise she had no knowledge of what he had laying around. "It should be fine for some long-range practice."

Amy picked up one of the parts, carefully examining it simply out of curiosity.

“Right, ok, think you could handle slappin’ that Kilotek on the desk back together? Already had ‘er cleaned up and polished, jus’ didn’t get a chance to put it back together ‘fore I came to bed las’ night.” He grabbed one of the chairs and rolled it across to the far corner of the workshop portion of the room “I’ll load up a few mags worth a’ rounds. Or ya know, we could switch over if yer not comfortable with the assembly job. I’m sure you’re familiar wit’ loadin’ rounds at least right?”

Amy let out a short sigh of disbelief. She knew Grayson meant no harm, but nonetheless the question caught her off guard.

"Yes, I do know how to load rounds, I wasn't born yesterday." The statement came off half-jokingly, just like she'd intended. "The Kilotek however is beyond me. Hand me those rounds now, will ya?"

“Alrigh’ lass, only teasin’. Here, you hop up on this chair, the mags an’ a few cases o’ rounds are already set out. Only gonna need a min or two to get tha Kilo back in one piece!”

Grayson slid out of his seat and walked over to sit at the desk. True to his word, he quickly and efficiently reassembled the bolt-action rifle and tested it dry a few times by sliding back the bolt and clicking the trigger.

“All ready here Ames, how about you?”

“Just about done,” Amy rotated around on the swivel chair to face him, her hands busy with the last magazine and the remaining rounds that needed to be inserted. She worked on it a little bit quicker before finally setting down the magazine next to the other one, both full to capacity.

“Alright, let’s do this. My trigger finger is itching.”

“Right-o love, let’s go”

He collected the magazines and slung the rifle over his shoulder before heading out, leading the way downstairs to the makeshift firing range in the gym. Once they arrived, he set the rifle on the table and laid out the magazines. Finally he reached under the table and pulled two pairs of noise-suppressing earmuffs out from a box. He laid one set in front of Amy and slid the other down around his neck.

“So, obviously you know yer basics lass, but marksmanship is more so a skill of the eyes than the reflexes, and if I were ta’ guess, the years of bein’ blind affected that in ya. So that’s what we’ll focus on. Start here though, ya ever used a Kilotek before?”

“Can’t say I have,” Amy replied, grabbing the earmuffs and subconsciously tapping it with a finger before she realized what she was doing. She then placed them around her neck like Grayson and picked up the rifle. “Walk me through the steps, please? I’d rather do it on my own as I’m a hands-on learner.”

“Well, real quick, tha’s one of my own there. Kilotek Model 188, bolt action, fluted barrel, 10 rounds per mag, 12x scope with thermal toggle, and that foregrip there, he’s the real treasure. It’s adjustable to any point along the underbarrel to fit the user’s preference. An’ also, if ya’d prefer ta post up in a more covert position, there’s a little switch there that splits the foregrip into a bipod. Comes in pretty handy. So, let’s get to it lass. Load ‘er up, get used to the feel of it, I’ll set up a target,”

Grayson crossed the room, grabbing a paper target from the stack and pinned it to the wall. He fished out a pen from his belt and hastily colored in a dot, off-center and smaller than the actual bullseye.

“May as well dive right into the deep end eh? Try an’ hit that target I put on there, and we’ll use that as a baseline for how much practice ya need.”

"I appreciate your faith in me," Amy smirked in a hushed tone, reaching for the magazine to load up the rifle. After she laid in the prone position, she made some quick adjustments to her liking, especially since she was much smaller than Grayson so she had to readjust the foregrip. She did a bit of a test run, aiming down the sights with her finger on the trigger but with the safety on, so she wasn't taking any shots even if she wanted to. Amy felt comfortable after a few moments, looking up at Grayson.

"Alright, stand back and watch the magic happen."

Amy took a breath in before she took aim at the small dot on the target. She switched off the safety and placed her finger on the trigger. She made sure to not use the very tip of her finger, so she lined it up just over the first crease. And finally, when she felt at ease, she pulled the trigger just enough to get the shot out. Not with a jerk movement, nor too soft as to jam the weapon, but somewhere in between.

“Nice one Ames” Grayson said as he lowered his earmuffs again and engaged his ocular implant to start analyzing the shot. He headed over and removed the target from the wall.

“Technique was excellent. Top marks there. Ya hit the target too, but the point o’ impact was off by a little bit. So, like I figured, it’s all in the eyes for ya, we train those up a little, and you’ll be unstoppable. Ready for another round?”

He placed a new target on the wall and placed 3 more dots on it with his pen.

“Same deal, sight ‘em up and shoot ‘em dead!”

He snapped his earmuffs back on and walked across to stand behind Amy’s position.

“Not bad if I do say so myself.”

Amy waited for a moment until Grayson walked back to safety, out of the line of fire. She got into the ready position and switched off the safety once more.

Amy lined up the sights a little quicker this time, having the confidence she didn't have before. Not that she considered herself a great shot, but she found herself handling the weapon with ease. Targeting the dot on the right, she waited for a moment before slowly pulling the trigger again.

Without bothering to take a look, Amy repeated the process for the remaining targets. She did not want to lose her concentration by looking up and then having to readjust.

“Well done lass” Grayson said after his initial analysis “89% accuracy on th’ first, 84 on the second, an 90% on the third. That’s all up from a 78% score on that first shot ya took, so that’s already a great improvement. Once we get ya to consistent high 90’s on stationary targets, we can try some moving targets.”

Grayson considered the stack of paper targets for a second and an idea came to his head

“How ‘bout one more?” he asked as he grabbed a target and drew on two dots, so close together they were nearly overlapping, he quickly shaded in one of them then showed it to Amy.

“This is somethin’ I had to do to way back when I was barely more’n a kid. The circle, as always, is your target. The colored dot is a hostage…. And it’s someone you know. Could be anyone, a friend, family member, hell, it could be an old schoolteacher even. An’ you gotta visualize that before pulling th’ trigger. Someone ya know, and love, or at least respect, held at gunpoint by an’ evil piece of shit. Now kill ‘em an’ save their life.”

Grayson set up the target and stood back. For this test, he was firing up his implant right away to study everything that happened, not just the bullet trajectory and accuracy, but Amy herself. How she reacted physically to the task, any areas of tension, or stiffness in her actions and that sort of stuff.

"That took a dark turn real quick," Amy said to herself as Grayson was making his way back to her, her eyes briefly on the target downrange before she turned to him. "No pressure, right?"

Amy couldn't help but picture some of the people she knew, those she cared about the most, being in that situation. Of course this was only a training, with no consequences at all except being told she was a bad shot, but she felt a little bit nervous again. What would occur if the scenario was actually taking place and she missed, but not without injuring or killing her loved one? It would be nothing short of devastating for her.

But Amy had to shake away those thoughts. The loss of her parents managed to affect her with something as simple as training, and it needed to stop. Readying herself again with the same routine, Amy took a bit longer to fire the next shot, hoping to all hell for a positive outcome.

“God damn” was all Grayson could say “Tha’ was damn near perfect Ames.”

He pulled the target down and brought it over to show her.

“That’s a 96% right there, but look here, the ‘hostage’ circle isn’t broken at all. Still a kill shot, an’ the hostage survived so may as well call it a bullseye right?.”

He leaned down and kissed the top of her head.
“Proud of ya love. This one took me a couple tries to get an’ ya took to it right away. Yer a damn natural at this” he paused and tapped his temple “I’ve got a little bit of data to sort through, but if ya wanna keep goin’ we can move on to-”

The loudspeakers screeched to life.

“Attention everyone, I was just informed we’re a few hours out from or destination. I want everyone to gather in the War Room in 15 minutes, I’ll share the intel we have on the job. See you there, Stryker out.”

“Ah, damn” Grayson said as the announcement ended “Guess that’s all we get for today then?”

“And I was doing so good…”

Amy pushed herself off of the ground, picking up the rifle as she stood up and handing it to Grayson. She also removed the earmuffs, putting them back in their place.

“You know, I think I’m going to like this next job.”

“Yeah? Good feelin’ about it? Well let’s go see what it’s all about.” Grayson put his own earmuffs back, gathered up the extra magazines and led the way out.

“Should be jus’ enough time to pack this stuff away before we’re expected.”

Kotze accepted the prescription from Varrus, a small bottle of pills, and studied it over for a brief moment. He hid the disappointment in his face, though not his thoughts. Kotze hoped for some med tech more sexy, more exciting; the little white capsules reminded him of hoary grey-haired women. He doubt he'd even take them, afraid they'd interact negatively with the Alpharotec constantly coursing through his veins. It was a hell of a lot more important to keep his synthetic organs from shutting down than stitch a shoulder back together, but damn did it hurt. Kotze stashed the plastic bottle into his jacket, just in case, and smiled. "Thanks, doctor. Those'll come in handy."

The Illithid brought up the damn potato scooper again. Kotze wondered if the Varrus could tell he was more metal than man just by looking at him, or if the good doctor would be caught off-guard by the spliced nerves and microbionics as his artificial eyes were pried out. No, he probably knew, but hopefully Varrus would practice good doctor-patient confidentiality. "Well, I don't mind being poked and prodded," Kotze said as he headed for the door. Perhaps a double entendre, perhaps not. "I'm sure I'll be back around soon." Kotze shut the door of the medical bay behind him just as he felt the ship shift underneath his feet for a brief moment, the ship's artificial gravity quickly compensating for the acceleration. A change of direction. Guess this ship's used to picking up transients, Kotze thought as the captain made his announcement. The Island of Misfit Toys. He made his way through the narrow ship to the kitchen, where a few of his new crewmates were floating about the room. Kotze smiled and played nice, but avoided talking whenever possible; the interaction with the doctor pushed him to his limit, and he knew any more interaction might make him snap. Instead, he simply filled a plate and took a table to himself. Kotze was simultaneously thankful for the brief isolation and crushed by loneliness. As he stared at the food, it dawned upon him that he could never go back. He'd been at the top of his game, one of the best in the field, and now he'd never work again. Not even a backwater planet third-rate corporation like Gengrove Group could take him on without his former employers breathing down their neck. Maybe I should've let the suits on Helios finish their job.

He missed the voice in his ear.

Kotze ate his food quickly and deliberately, like an automaton. He didn't taste a morsel of it, though not for lack of trying; Kotze's taste receptors had been fried to cinders years ago, so that he only picked up the texture of bacon and dry toast. It was just fuel to him.

Another announcement over the ship's coms, a briefing on the next job. It was a good chance to learn more about the ship and its crew, certainly, but Kotze was far from up for the task. He passed the War Room on his way to the kitchen, and the thought of cramming in there with every person on the ship was physically repulsive. Still, Kotze was a member of the crew, and like it or not, he'd have to act like it. The agent finished up his meal and slipped out of the kitchen, climbing his way through airlocks until he reached the War Room, which to his surprise, was empty, save for Stryker. He gave the man a quick nod and a smile. "First one here, huh?" he said to the empty chairs before taking a seat. "I guess punctuality isn't in the crew contract."

"Not exactly, no" Stryker said as he took up his usual spot at the table, next to the holo controls.

Once everyone had finally arrived (save for Tib, who was, as usual, listening in via comms) Stryker stood up and called the meeting to order.

"Before we start, there's a lot of new faces in here. You guys who've been here a while need to meet 'em, and in some cases, they need to know what's really going on here. So without further ado, Sadaet Kotayki, Kotze Wylks, Ryan Rosq, Qoorb, Mazie, Pax, and Henry."

He pointed at each of them as he said their name, then quickly introduced everyone on the crew to the new folks.

"Ok, so we all know each other now, that's good. So, I referenced some of you guys, Kotze, Pax and Qoorb in particular, needing to be filled in, because we're not exactly your average crew. Welcome to Project Revenant."

He launched into a quick speech that summarized the purpose of Project Revenant, his voice dripping with utter disdain for the entire thing, so they all knew where he stood on being a tool of the Alliance.

"....so that's the situation here. A little much, I know. You folks are lucky, we're all stuck here, but if you want, you can walk out that door right now, head to your rooms, and wait it out until we hit port somewhere then get far away from us. Now, with all that said, time to get down to business."

He finally turns his attention back to the holotable and activates it. The lights in the War Room dim as the images from the briefing file begin to materialize, beginning with a planet.

"Teravainen. If you've never heard of it before, then you're lucky. It's one of the central hubs of trade and industry in all of Federation territory. We're going deep behind enemy lines on this one, and to that end, we've gotta put up with a team of Alliance Deep-Cover dicks. They'll be making contact once we reach the system. Whoever's in charge over there honestly has more details than me, but I can cover the basics."

The image shifted to five faces, all of which were distinct alien races.

"Zala Ha'rek. Mabar M'raek. Quinlan Kifear. Caha Zaier. And Batec Ciaten. They're all either high-ranking members of the Federation leadership, part of the military chain of command, or major sponsors. All five of them will be present on Teravainen in about one week. None of them are allowed to leave the planet alive. They've got a cover story cooked up, something about a 'humanity first' terrorist group that'll take the blame for the killings, but that's not our concern. Yeah, to be honest, that's all they've really given me. I'm assuming the team that's coming have the rest of the details."

As if on cue, his datapad chirped to life as an encoded message flashed on screen 'APPROACHING REVENANT, DOCKING CLEARANCE C-308'

"Huh, they're already here. Wait here, I'll get them."

He returned about four minutes later with three men following behind. They were dressed in civilian clothes, but at a glance, it's fairly obvious from their posture and the general attitude on their faces that they were here for official business.
"I am Captain Voss, you'll address me as such. These are my associates, Treliving and Gunnarson" The leader said. He even looked like a stereotypical military jarhead. These guys were deep cover operatives? Stryker, standing behind them, shook his head in disbelief.

"Mr. Stryker tells me that you have the basic objective and knowledge on the targets, excellent. He and I are going to convene now and discuss strategy before continuing this briefing. Return here in one hour, but be prepared to return at a moments notice, should we finish early."

The Revenant

Nobody outside of the frontier systems smoked anymore. It was an old world habit largely superseded by electronic cigarettes... which Sadaet thought were for douchebags. In the atmosphere-controlled space stations and ships, finding a space to light up was difficult at best: personal living quarters and obscure places like machinery rooms. Luckily for him, he was able to keep the smell to a minimum from his own room and scrub out the worst of the chemicals with some extra filters added to the air system. He had received word of an upcoming mission and was preparing his gear: a small rucksack, olive green and worn from years of abuse, was stuffed to the brim with radio equipment and computers. Anything from radio transmission, retransmission kits, electromagnetic jammers, scramblers, and disablers, to cyber network enablers and breach kits were tossed into pouches and compartments. On the back, Sadaet’s name in Punjabi Shahmukhi script flowed across the back. A keychain with a little waving cat dangled from a webbing strap.

His four speakers were put at corners of the room and pushed soft electronica toward the center of the room. He had already brought his things onboard from the storage unit at Helios Station. An ornate rug covered the cold metal floor of his room. On the wall, he had mounted his shrine: Sadaet himself came from the Gorbenani subcontinent on Shahan IVa and, like many of his people, followed a curious mix of secular Islam and Sikhism called Masireh Setareh. Translating roughly to “path of the stars”, the hole temple at Prosidainsa was constructed by explorers from India and Iran generations ago. Their ships had both suffered grevious mechanical failures and were left adrift, floating in space for years. Yet, as both of them began to run low on power and supplies and the cryogenic pods were about to fail, a miracle happened: the ships drifted and met each other.

The odds were so astronomical as to be impossible... the vastness of space could only be overcome by something far greater than simple statistics or probability. So as the explorers fastened together their ships, they used the last of their fuel to crash land on the Shahani system frontier. Their colonial supplies were used to create Prosidainsa, the Providence of these stricken men and women. Over the years, a spiritual fusion of the children of Muslims and Sikhs found common cores and teachings, merging to become the core of society there. If there was only One Truth, Allah fulfilled much of that role. The Gurus and Hadiths taught the youth lessons and morals. Values and tenets founded the base of behavior. All because of a curious meeting amongst the stars. Sadaet himself bore a tattoo sleeve of iconography on his left arm, and wore jewelry and trinkets.

The bag was packed, his rifle readied and laid next to it. The War Room was waiting: time to make his pay.

Sometime after the meeting in the engine deck of the ship, Benny had returned to his room and retrieved his wrist laser and pocketed a couple of flashbangs in case things got hairy. Given the fact that Stryker still hadn't sounded the alarms after they had detached from whatever craft they had anchored on, Benny assumed there was nothing to worry about... at least for the moment. Or they could just be biding their time...". He decided to keep the flashbangs in his pockets all the same.

Eventually, Stryker called in for a briefing in the war room. A small sense of relief went through him as he would finally know what in the Hell the alliance wanted them to do next and how he could prepare for it. Upon arriving in the war room, Benny saw a lot more faces than he had originally expected, and it made him quite uncomfortable given that he didn't know most of these new people. He already doubted some of the original crew to begin with so this development wasn't helping matters. Still, Stryker was the captain of the ship, and he had the final say in what happens.

They were an interesting bunch however. Between the odd humans, they had another robot, and some new aliens including an octopus-head and some tall blue-skinned creature with robotic augmentations. Guess the Alliance would be pretty damn happy. "Alliance Black Ops" would not be the first thing to come to mind upon seeing this ragtag collection of freaks He thought.

Stryker got on with the briefing, telling them they would be doing a multiple-target assassination, working in conjunction with alliance undercover operatives. That detail got an audible groan out of Benny. Quickly enough however, the meeting was invaded by the alliance operatives without any warning. Benny was already halfway reaching into his pockets upon hearing the new voice before it introduced itself as Captain Voss. The soldier-boy introduced his lackeys and politely told everyone to fuck off while he had a private chat with Stryker.

Benny rolled his eyes before stepping out of the room as they were told along with the others all filing out into the halls. "Well, I've had enough interaction with arsewipes fer one day. If anyone feels like botherin' me, I'll be in the lab" He announced to no one in particular as the crew dispersed.

"So we have five targets, and a giant crew. Seems easy enough."

Tibulass sat in the cockpit and waited for the allied crew to board on the ship, buzzing into Stryker's communicator to speak to him directly. She figured that he needed to be told something, so she just decided to go with it. "Not that I don't trust you or anything, but I would like to be present physically for that discussion. That being said, I can't leave the cockpit, so do with that info what you will."

It was just something about this mission that didn't sit right with her... she couldn't tell what yet, though.

Harrison was working in the kitchen, cleaning up, putting things away, etc., when he heard Stryker broadcast about a meeting in the war room. He finished up and ran up the stairs to score a chair while he could. He managed to nab one and spent the remaining time reading the files he “acquired” from the Arbonne mission. With all the new members and stopping at Helios and fixing the ship, now was as good a time as any to catch up. When Stryker started the meeting, Harrison closed the files but kept the Focus active, though not recording. As the new recruits were introduced properly, he marked their names in his banks. Sadayet Kotaiki, Kotse Wilks, Ryan Rosk, Korb, Mazie, Pax, and Henry. Neat. After the introductions were done, Harrison turned his attention to Stryker laying out the plan, taking notes. When the three men from the Alliance showed up, he thought one thing. They’re going to screw this up. He promptly nicknamed them Morons One and Two and Head Moron (in parenthesis, of course). After the meeting, he went back to the kitchen to do a once-over and make sure everything was definitely put away. Meanwhile, the designs he’d thought up were bouncing around in his head. Let’s see. Most of the crew isn’t very science-y. Koren would probably help, he knows how to do stuff. Benny would probably be good too, he’s good with explosives.

Having made up his mind, Harrison first sought out Koren knocked on his door and presented his idea rather simply. “Hey, I’m gonna build jetpacks in the lab. You should probably come with to make sure nothing explodes and blows a hole in the side of the ship. Coming with?” Not waiting for an answer, he continued down to the lab. The Juz’ had settled to daydreaming after they were shooed off of the war room. So Harrison loudly knocking on his door was more than enough to startle the Juz’ into reality. But since Harrison never bothered to wait for a response, Koren decided to gather his tools and wordlessly follow the man who seemed more than eager to pound and shout at the lab doors.

Benny was about to settle into tinkering with his gear when the lab doors opened and he instinctively pointed the wrist laser mounted on Skelly at the doors. He only slowly lowered it when he saw it was Harrison at the entrance. ”Wot the feck do ye want?” Benny asked. Harry entered and knocked on the wall before speaking, “Hey, I know we don’t know each other super much but I had a crazy idea that I thought you would be perfect for. Waist-mounted jetpacks. Yay or nay?”

Benny looked at the man quizzically, sizing up if they were serious or not. It seemed like they were, and Benny had to let out a loud laugh at the ridiculousness of the sudden request. ”If ye want help dislocatin’ yer pelvis, I could prep a concussion grenade and strap it on yer waist. Would be much faster than the jetpack idea.” He replied sarcastically. The blue-skinned Juz’ that he knew to be Matija’s friend followed Harrison shortly afterward, eliciting a small, almost inaudible groan from the bombsmith.

”So where do we work again and who are we building it for?” Koren asked with his usual flat tone despite his actual mood saying otherwise.

”Ask Mr. Physics 101 dropout over here. Look, if ya two wanna fly then at least come up with somethin’ that won’t kill ya within seconds o’ firin’ up tha’ ignition” He said, standing up to walk closer to them. “Oh, that won’t be much of a problem. I already have some designs and blueprints that I threw together.” At this, Harrison looked at the nearest holo-projector and displayed his plans. They displayed blueprints of the concepts with to-the-third-decimal precision. It’s a simple design: two jets attached to either side of a fuel tank/attachment point with flow lines and regulators to control the amount of fuel being used. There are several things Harrison just couldn’t figure out, though. Mainly, how to have enough fuel in a tank to allow a person to stay up on the side for several seconds without being weighed down (though there were notes about minor antigrav plates being a possibility) and how to refuel the tanks fast enough that one could continue past the first discharge. “But it seemed like you two would be the best fit for this considering that rockets like this are not unlike contained explosions. But if you don’t want to fly across the city at 30-35 miles an hour, be my guest.”

Benny looked at the designs Harrison showed them and inspected the details of the diagram. It made physical sense in terms of functionality, thrust, and the flow of fuel through the small engines. Though the clear flaw in the design was still there. ”You’ll need more than a belt if ya wanna fly with this thing. Getting pulled around by the waist is a great way to break bones with this. You’ll need some kinna’ harness. Plus a bigger fuel pack if ya want the thrusters ta’ do more than be a glorified parachute” he said, running the numbers in his head. Having maintained and driven his own small spacecraft for a while before being pulled into the Revenant, he knew a thing or two about fuel consumption and maintenance. Though it was more of the dirty and improvised kind of engine maintenance as opposed to anything truly reliable.

“I understand the harness, that makes sense. I don’t know how I didn’t think of that. There is a problem with the fuel pack.” Harrison walked up to the projection and scaled the tank’s size up. After sliding it for a second or two, the weight indicator turned red. “The tank reaches a certain size, then it needs antigrav plates to not weigh down the runner. This, in and of itself, is fine. Antigrav plates take a decent amount of power. Although… If the pack was wired into my shield suit, I could power the plates at the cost of, say, half power? Yeah… Yeah, that could work!”

While the two men talked, the Juz’ tried to read the diagrams and inspected everything that he could. He even remotely copied the diagram on his holo-watch without waiting for permission in order to take the thing apart in peace. Thankfully, it didn’t take long before he could finally make some headway on improving the design.

“Use Solidified Prometheum. SolProm units are more expensive but it’s lighter and it won’t screw user momentum and orientation, unlike liquid fuel. It’s also easier to make SolProm heating units.” Koren maneuvered past the two men to use the projector. He found it easier to compute on a larger screen with two hands than on his watch. He copied the original design before shoving it to one side and changed the variables on the other. “Retain fuel tank volume… lower fuel weight by 48%... no, 30%,” he mumbled. “...divide these… and… ah!” The Juz’ clicked his tongue as he appreciated his work. He placed the original and his own modified variant side-by-side and glanced at Harrison. “68.923% increase on fuel capacity, and longer air-time at the cost of increased weight. Weight needs more balancing but should be within safety parameters. Refuelling SolProm is easier and I have designs in mind for it. But as Benny said, we need to consider safety protocols. Consider Matija’s suit as harness baseline, if she lets us, an exoskeleton for strain distribution and kinetic dampeners, and your AG as auxiliary thrusters.”

“Holy hell, I knew you were an engineer but, wow. SolProm, I would not have thought of that. The exoskeleton and Matija’s suit should be relatively easy to make. Get some scrap metal, sand, and various schematics and we can fabricate them as soon as we get the materials. I’m gonna go see if we can get that Alliance card that SAL had earlier.” Harrison retrieved his fab-pack and dropped it off at the lab, explaining the way it worked enough that they could use it. He went off to find SAL to convince him to give the card (or steal it, either way). After hearing from the robot that “it’s with the head meatbag,” Harrison went to the cargo bay and checked the manifest on the wall for scrap metal. He found an appropriate crate and strapped on the mag-lev lifters. With great difficulty, he got the scrap crate to play nice with the elevator and door. “So, good news and bad news. Good news, we could work on the exoskeleton and harness now. Bad news, Stryker has the Alliance card. And since he’s in the meeting, we can’t get it from him. So, I think we’re done for right now. They said the targets will be here in a week, right? So, I’m gonna call it for today.”

Roughly an hour later, Stryker's voice echoed through the ship, calling everyone back to the War Room. When all hands were present, Stryker began:

"Welcome back, so there's a bit of prep work that's going into this plan, and we thought it best to let you all know about it early, get on top of things, you know?"

"First the job details. We have intel that says the Feds may be planning something big. It's no coincidence that these five high-value targets will be on the same planet on the same night. We believe they'll be making contact with one another on the night in question to plot out a major attack against the Alliance. And our efforts need to be coordinated, someone kicks off a little early, it'll raise the alarm of the others. So, without further ado..." Voss said as the holotable sprung to life "Target number one, Mabar M'raek. She's a political candidate who has the Federation's backing. Her election would essentially give the Feddies a strong foothold in Republic space, including some key military zones that would shift the balance of power should a war break out. She'll be attending a heavily guarded fundraiser on the night in question. Impossible to infiltrate without tripping some alarms, but it's on a rooftop, and if my boy's recon report is right, they skimped on the bubble shielding tech."

A hologram of a skyscraper and the buildings around it rose up as Stryker started to speak again.

"Grayson, this is your area of expertise, so this target is yours. Take Amy as your spotter. The two of you will be dropped about 3 kilos away by one of the transport shuttles, make your way up to whichever vantage point works best for you, and when you have a clear shot, take her out and exfil.

"Simple enough" Grayson nodded, containing his disdain for the Alliance soldiers "Any chance we can grab a copy of that recon report?"

Voss nodded and continued.
"Target two, Quinlan Kifear" Once again, the holotable shifted "He's military. A high-ranking commander of the Shrekeer. There's a military supply depot on Teravainen, he's scheduled to make an appearance there and inspect the place. Sergeant Gunnarson will be leading an assault squad to attack the depot. Standard formations and all of that. Collateral damage will be a bonus. Stryker, the team?"

Stryker cleared his throat as he read down a list on his datapad.
"Benny, Tobi, Sadaet, Henry, Harriet and Varrus."

"Yes, them. Moving on to target three, Caha Zaier. She's the head of a technological conglomerate that is one of the Federation's largest sponsors. And she's scheduled to make a public appearance. We've managed to acquire a copy of her car's route, so another team will be sent in to intercept and destroy. She will be guarded, but nothing you can't handle."

"SAL, you're taking point. Your team is Harrison, Koren, Kotze, and Pax. I'll get you all the intel we have so you can form a strategy, whatever works best for you."

"Target four, Batec Ciaten. He's another corporate sponsor, with military ties. In addition to being an integral cog in the military supply chain for the Feds, he owns the power company that powers all of Teravainen. Treliving and myself, along with a few members of the crew will be taking the Revenant on an attack run over the generator hub for Sectors 13-17. We'll knock out the power giving teams 1-3 more time to exfiltrate and provide additional cover as needed, as well as taking our the target, since he'll be present at the location.

"Ryan, Mazie, Qoorb, you three will hang back here and man the guns."

"Which leaves us with the final target, and this is the big fish: Zala Ha'rek. He's a core member of the Federation's leadership group. One of the original founders if the rumors are true. He's hosting a ceremonial gala, some form of political or military fundraiser, probably in support of M'raek. The plan is simple, infiltrate undercover and poison the target, slip out in the confusion of our attack run starting."

Stryker got visibly disgruntled as Voss turned it over to him.
"Matija, you're gonna be taking on the identity of one of the wait staff. It'll provide you with the opportunity to blend in with the crowds, and get close to Ha'rek if I can't."

"Nearly forgot that part, yes" Voss chuckles to himself as the holotable summoned up images of two humans. He looks over at Tibulass with a grin.
"Stryker and this radiant young woman are infiltrating the gala as a couple of mercs who've pledged for the Federation. Marcus and Jen Stormare of the Black Sky Company. Can't you see the resemblance?"

"Yeah yeah, we're all very amused by your cover story. This is the job, we'll handle it. Stryker said as he stepped up to the plate.
"We've got a couple of days before the targets arrive, but there's a lot of work to be done. Grayson, I need you to tune up all the guns. Amy, the Federation may still be working on old broadcasting stations and using codes from your time, can you get on signal analysis, see if you can turn up any extra intel? Benny, we're gonna need explosives, and lots of them. Sadaet, we're going to need a few mobile hack kits, that something you can rig together? Varrus and Harriet, prep some med kits. Everyone else, we're gonna be doing daily combat training. That'll be all for now."



It was time to go. The team was as ready as they'd ever be as they boarded their respective shuttles. Voss stood in front of them all, hands behind his back as he spoke.
"Everybody keep in contact. Remember that this is a coordinated effort. The failure of one, means failure for all. Best of luck to all of you."

He marched off towards the elevator and a few seconds later, the cargo ramp began to lower. One by one, the shuttles took off and sped off towards their destinations on the surface.