[center][h3]CMDR SAGAN "VULTURE" KODOS[/h3][/center]

[b]<< We run on prison rules, Rabbit. No one likes a snitch. Drop and gimme thirty when you pull into the hangar. >>[/b] Sagan bantered back over comms as he sent the Watchdog hurtling forward towards the last, limping cruiser. 

[b]<< Roger, engaging. >>[/b] He wove through what remained of the point-defense like it was barely there, his MAS's flight boosters giving enough thrust to easily outfox the low-caliber autocannons. [b]<< Little bit of career advice, never become flight lead if you don't like cleaning up other people's messes. Pay grade ain't worth the headache. >>[/b] 

The Watchdog raised its HPK, sighting up the engines. One burst, two, three. The thrusters went alight with flame before stalling out entirely, the cruiser dead in vacuum. 

[b]<< Sarret, Vulture. >>[/b] Sagan commed in towards the Roanoke again. [b]<< Reporting engine kill, designated cruiser's ripe for boarding whenever the jarheads're ready. >>[/b] With that done, he whirled his suit in an about face, hurtling through space until he caught up with the the Sparrowhawk. 

[b]<< This is Vulture, prepping to RTB. 7th, how're we looking? >>[/b]