Admiral Kapsis Stevens's Story

The star system, known simply as XG-12784, was a veritable hive of activity. The most prominent feature of the system was a recent, still cooling debris field, the corpses of two worlds that had collided within the thousand years. Few asteroid belts were as dangerous as this one, created recently, there were still plenty of mountain-sized rocks, slowly being broken apart be repeated collisions. Eventually, over thousands more years, the belt would break apart, spread out, and become predictable, safe, and uninteresting.

As it currently stood, however, while it was dangerous, it was also incredibly resource rich, with easily reached veins. There were two other belts in the system, but this one was the most rewarding to those willing to take the risk. And that was what brought the Stellar Mining Company. The other corporations in the IAC might have been willing to take a shot at the more stable fields, but dangerous, dense, and remote locations like these where the SMC pulled it's weight.

And so, the SMC was present. They even had one of their pride and joys, a titanic refinery ship, the SMCS Wastelander, present. Small, agile mining ships darted between asteroids, long years of training and experience letting them navigate between colliding titans with ease. Their tools of choice, the Phased Disassembler Array, let them pull apart the asteroids atom-by-atom. A slow process, to be sure, and one that could not be used on objects with any form of energy output, but it was the best tool for the job.

These small miners, despite their utility, could not reasonably make the journey all the way to the single refinery ship on their own. So, instead, they docked with large, destroyer-sized processing ships. These processor ships in turn used their oversized reactors to fuel micro-wormholes leading to the refinery ship. The slush of raw ores was then simply fed to the wormhole, and the refinery ship took care of the rest.

The Refinery ship was a beast of it's own. It's primary function was in the name, process raw materials into refined materials. But it could do so much more. It was equipped with a massive hangar module capable of storing a swarm of fighter-craft for self defense, and constructing anything up to a frigate internally. And the fleet needed something larger? It was built externally. On it's own, a fairly vulnerable target. But these ships could build entire fleets on their own, limited only by how much extra crew it could carry.

Unfortunately, lives were irreplaceable, and the origins of the IAC had not made it popular. True, everyone wanted their goods. They were cheap, they plentiful, and they were willing to sell to everyone. Unfortunately, few nations recognized the IAC's independence, even as they became larger than the nations they had seceded from. As such, if they didn't bring a fleet to ensure nothing went wrong, people tended to try and forcibly seize their ships and whatever cargo they had on the grounds of anything from "High treason" to "Unpaid corporate taxes."

Which brought the Admiral of the 4th, Kapsis Stevens, to his most recent business offer. To any freelance merchants, take our goods, transport them to the buyer, and be paid for transport.

A Viper MK4 Exploded into view, outside the asteroid field of XG-12784. In just a few moments, it twisted and turned, aligning itself with it's target, until it's thrusters exploded into action, giving off a brilliant orange and blue hue, as it propelled the giant corvette towards the field. It's shields flared, pulsing an aqua blue as it established itself around the ship, before slowly fading into it's invisible form.

"Bringing up sensor scans. Contacts Identified. Rich extractions sites pinpointed." Came Nivera's voice in the pilot's helm. "Warning, capital class ship detected."

A solid grin under the man's helmet formed, emerald eyes looking over the data feed in his HUD. Nivera brought up the Wastelander into his display, identifying it's shields, weapons, and patrols. As dangerous as these people seemed, to him, they were his next clientele, so he held little worry to their impressive armaments.

The Viper's arrow headed vessel entered the field, shutting off it's thrusters, and using the power of inertia to carry itself towards the refinery ship. Asteroids that happened to cross his path were simply maneuvered around using propellant.

"Nivera, fire up the beacon, broadcast identity, and ping the Wastelander specifically." He glanced to his right, looking over his functions panel, shifted to his communications, and spoke on broadcast.

"This is S.M. Dagger, Pilot Larion Lithen. I am entering territory owned by the..." He flicked his eyes to his left panel, checking his contact list. "SMC. I've come to inquire about a contract."

He flicked his mic off, rolling back in his armor to await a response.

Within a few moments of Larions ship appearing, a group of heavy Ripper fighters diverted from their patrol, and flew in to meet him on the outside of the field. Their main gun, twin railguns, weren't anything particularly special, enough to rip apart other strike-craft in a fire fight and little else. Their armor, while excessively thick for a fighter, still wasn't coming anywhere close to a corvette's, not to mention that only SMC destroyers and above used shields of any kind. Their dual missile pods, however, were designed to tear holes into capital ships. On paper, only having two each would make them appear useless, but a volley from an entire squadron was more than enough to take out the engines of a capital ship, or ruin the main guns. In addition, though rarely done, they could be outfitted with cluster missiles designed to combat strike craft.

Larion's viper, were it a hostile, was just large enough for the missiles to get an effective lock. But it was also small enough that the railguns could do effective damage in a prolonged fight. Meaning the Rippers had a target that they could potentially take out in a single volley, but didn't have to retreat to reload their missiles.

"This is Captain Elias. My squadron has you on scanners. Divert course immediately, some of these rocks practically explode when hit by another rock. Take the shortest possible route out of the field. My squadron will meet you there, and we'll escort you to the Wastelander."

A few minutes passed, and Wastelander replied. "S.M. Dagger... we hear you... uhhh... your ship is registering as a heavy corvette... we'll put you on the list... but..." The man on the other side paused. "Right, uhhh, the logistics officer is telling me that he isn't going to split up the cargo over twenty corvettes if one guy brings an actual freighter, and he isn't putting any cargo on a corvette owned by a guy that flies straight through a rock field if he doesn't have to. But, since your ship is FTL capable... we can fit you in as an escort, but... um... you're going to have to forward some documentation in that case. Weapons licenses, Pilot's license, references, if you work with a unit, their name and Government of origin... uhhh... also, you're going to have to declare any Letters of Marque... don't worry if you hold one issued by someone we don't like, this isn't a critical assignment."

Proponent fired out from several angles on the ship, as Larion plotted a course back out of the field. The voice of their defence force irritated him with their prattle about his immediate conduct, but none the less, their caution spoke to the man. His thrusters fired up, taking him back out to meet with the after mentioned squadron.

Caution warranted him to bring power from his engines to his systems, as his eyes drifted over the squadrons armaments. He spotted the barrels of ballistic weapons, and noticed the tubes that undoubtedly fired missiles.

He kept his shields to full, but all of his hard points deactivated, and stowed.

He listened to the slight stuttering voice of what he assumed was the deck officer, telling him this and that about how they couldn't do this, but could do that. When he heard that he could be put on as an escort, he shrugged, even though only Nivera would witness it. He'd likely be payed less than whom ever became the freighter, but if it payed enough, he'd be fine. After all, he didn't really expect himself to haul cargo. He had some space, sure, but this was some heavy duty operations.

Then came the part about how his documentation was required. Weapons, Pilots, the whole nine yards. He'd almost broad casted asking them if they wanted a his medical records for his latest colon inspection, but thought better of it. Come to think of it, he never had one...

Back to the matter at hand Larion, back to the matter at hand.

He brought the Viper into formation, and began compiling the data package to be sent to the Wastelander. Most of his licenses weren't affiliated with governments, but instead corporations. After all, he didn't like the feel of some government big wig trying to pressure him into a job, or lose a license out of it. Not like it'd actually happen, yet...

His Pilot's license was issued by some backwater corporation, 'Interstellar Logistics' which based itself somewhere on Tera. It certified him as capable of flying light, heavy fighters, light and heavy corvettes, and for some reason, small scale hauler craft. He sent that off into the data packet.

His weapon's license was issued by yet another corporation, 'S.C.T.', or 'Space Combat Technologies'. It contained a long, long list of different weapons he was certified to buy and equip, including their various classes and ratings. Unfortunately, this document would also give away anything he had currently equipped...

The twin gumball tracking assist multi cannons, which was the crafts main weapon, which served to hammer away at hostile craft with high caliber rounds fired at the rate of a hundred twenty rounds per minute, which was two rounds per second. Their main drawback was their magazine of ninety, which required constant reloads during sustained fire, but anything the size of Larion's Corvette that didn't have full shields would be missing quite a bit of itself if Larion managed to empty a full magazine into them.

Then there was the twin gimbals tracking assist thermic pulse lasers, or, "G.T.A.T.P". These was Larion's choice of weapon when taking on an opponent with shields, and were a good backup weapon when his main weapons were reloading. While they were poor against armor, requiring repeated shots in order to melt through, they excelled against shields of many types, using both their energy force, and their heat, fired in pulses, to shatter and disperse hostile defense shields.

Then there was the multitude of listed turrets, two of which were placed at the rear hatch, too small to be of any threat to any ship. Likely, they were used to defend against anyone trying to breach the hatch.

There were four others, two on the top, two on the bottom, all of them being beam lasers. Unlike the pulse weapons, these were designed to overwhelm shields, and overheat systems, while obviously as well burning through armor. Even when their hard points weren't deployed, visibly, their main guns poked out menacing from the side.

And the list still continued on! It registered equipment as well... First there was the duel Chaff launchers, mounted at the prostier at the ship. Their purpose was to expel literal hordes of incredibly tiny computers set to broadcast masses of information, and to overheat themselves to the point of melting. Essentially, they served as tracking interference, as each computer demanded the attention of any targeting computer trying to lock onto the main ship.

Then the shield cell, which served as a precharged battery to instantly recharge the Viper's shields in a case of emergency.

There was also a small list of items, which were simply labeled 'pending installation', and further investigation revealed that they had been purchased not to long ago, and were awaiting for the ship to dock at a specific location to be installed. It ranged from additional weapons, to mundane equipment like cargo scanners.

He put that into the data packet as well.

Then came references... Oh boy, where to start. He swiped away his more illegitimate deals he's made. While technically they were legal for his bounty office, he didn't think associating himself with criminals was going to be worth while here.

So he put in the jobs that had been on the more favorable side of the law.

These included space bounty hunting missions, which consisted of hunting down a criminal target in space, and either securing them, or eliminating them. There was quite a number of these, and most appeared to be completed within a week of being assigned, save one case that appeared to take a month.

Then there were missions that ranged from personal protection, to apprehending, which varied from space, to ground missions. Most of these were marked as completed, though two of them seemed to remain ominously marked as 'Ongoing', and while one of the targets marked to be taken alive wasn't revealed, the other was marked as an ecoterriost charged with the bombing of a shopping district, and various, unrelated murders. The contract specifically stated he was to be returned to authorities post humorlessly.

All of these contracts were assigned by various bounty offices scattered across space.

He sent that into the data packet as well.

When it came time to state his Alligences, he blanked. He didn't really have citizenship anywhere... He didn't care to register himself as one, even though he was sure he was technically valid to apply in several areas. He chewed his lip, and simply typed in 'Undeclared.'

Which also meant he had no letters of Marque, and therefore he left that blank, and sent the data packet.

A short distance outside the asteroid Field, a series of warp distortions appeared, and no less than ten ships appeared. Shaped like Obelisks, where the wider part was the front and the narrow point the rear, each ship appeared as though it were made of gold, with striations of colors in red and purple in various places. Each ship was triangular, and towards the helm what appeared to be three long spires came out from slots formed where the sides of the hull met. The largest of these ships was 30 kilometers in length and flew in the center of the formation. Three more ships, each one twenty kilometers in length, flew in a triangle formation above the largest ship. Three more flew in the same formation to it's left corner and another three to it's right corner. This overall formation of a tight triangle insured that any vessel foolish enough to attempt to flank would be met with a broadside from at least five vessels at once.

The lead ship detected the Refinery ship and it's defense patrols and the smaller vessel being escorted by them. It sent a hailing message to the Refinery ship. "This is the captain of the Righteous Blade to the Refinery vessel located in the vicinity. Do not be alarmed, we are securing the location for a civilian transport vessel" The Captain stated in a clear and commanding voice. The message sent was video as well as audio, and the Captain could be seen amongst her crew in what seemed to be a golden throne room. The Captain herself was, as her voice indicated, female. She stood at six foot four, with a strong jawline but a thin neck. Her left shoulder was covered by a mantle of red held by a golden chain to the rest of her uniform.

Shortly after sending her greeting, another warp distortion began, and a ship resembling a closed flower, where the petals were a distinct and vibrant blue save along their edges which glowed green. This ship was a frigate, and was only 40 meters in length. It began it's approach to the Refinery, firing it's engines up and moving forward at a leisurely pace.

Within moments of the arrival of the massive vessels, the SMC ships erupted in a flurry of activity. Encrypted channels were flooded with transmissions, mining ships retreated to their carriers, and the various fighter patrols, completely underequipped for the situation, shut down their engines and erupted with comms signals, obviously frantically requesting orders.

One of the processor ships, the one closest to the inbound ships, utterly panicked. Their weapons went hot, and a few of their pathetic AA guns made abortive attempts to fire, something stopping them at the price of overloading them and ruining them permanently. The ship was clearly a civilian ship, not meant to be anywhere near combat, and only meant to defend itself from the occasional pirate fighters.

The Wastelander, after several tense minutes, finally responded to the Righteous Blade's hail. An older man, red-faced and clearly furious, wearing an Admiral's uniform, appeared on a video hail. "Kariad's tits! Righteous Blade, this is Admiral Stevens of the Wastelander, do you realize you just popped into sovereign SMC territory with capital ships?! With no warning?! If your ships had been designed by a nation we'd encountered before, I might damn well have fired on you! And I'd probably get a damn medal for it! Shit, some of the higher ups are going to want me court marshaled for thinking that it's a bad idea to start a war with someone we've never met before! I had to override one of our processor's guns and force them to overheat!" The Admiral ground his teeth for a moment, and exhaled.

"Righteous Blade, welcome to XG-12784. In the interest of not starting an interstellar war over what I'm sure is a huge misunderstanding and significant cultural differences, I invite you and your fleet to dock and refuel, resupply, and rest aboard the Wastelander. Your transport vessel is..." Stevens paused, focusing on another screen for a moment. "...More than welcome to participate in our contract. While the nature of this shipment means I will be unable to assign our own ships to it's security, we have a number of verified private contractors willing to provide escort service. I will be sending a report on each vessel to you and the captain of the transport."

The SMC fleet began to return to normal operations, although the civilian mining vessels moved deeper into the asteroid belts than normal, likely hoping the debris would provide some cover. As promised, the Admiral sent a data file on each of the escort ships. Two frigates, one an unarmed frigate with a Letter of Marque from some backwater planet, with a surprisingly detailed history of ramming pirates into oblivion. The other was infinitely more conventional, a mothballed military ship that had been sold to a reputable mercenary captain. It had been in several engagements, assigned to AA duty thanks to the ship's age, but it had unconventionally thick armor that let it take a beating from more modern ships, even if it couldn't properly return the favor.

The rest were a series of FTL capable fighters and light corvettes of various design, all piloted by reputable crews, and generally well made for their purpose, whether that was dogfighting, bombers, or fire support. Then there was Larion Lithen, with an addendum that he would be approved for the contract after he had docked with the Wastelander and had been interviewed by the captain of the freighter. Provided he was offered and accepted the contract, he was extended an offer of having the equipment he had listed as "Pending Installation," installed free of charge.

As Larion was escorted to their refinery, he had plenty of time to really take into scope what the Wastelander really was. The words 'Mobile fortress' came to mind.

Most of the ship was dedicated, as it seemed to him, to the storage, and refinement, of the ores they were mining from the rock itself. However, there was the very distinct, boxy protrusion, of a massive hanger hanging from the under rig of the vessel. Two giant openings were visible on the top of either side, and as he approached, he ordered Nivera to prep for dock.

He took a moment to investigate the sudden spike in communications that Nivera brought to his intention, and a quick check on long range scanners showed why. Several capital class ships had just warped into the area, outside the belt. One ship seemed to be making it's way for the cluster, while the rest remained behind.

Larion chuckled. These people throw out a contract, and you get fleet's of ships coming to see what's up. He shook his head, leaning back in his chair, as his ship slid into the white light that seemed to highlight the entrance.

The inside was... Bigger, than he imagined. Part of this was due to all the utility and patrol ships that were docked. They were suspended in the air via massive docking rigs that secured the various ships in place via compact clamps, where it seemed the goal of these rigs were to store as many ships in as close a space as possible. He wondered just what exactly they feared to be attacked by to have so many fighters stockpiled.

His escort left him, obviously convinced that the ships security could handle him should he become a problem, atleast to his imagination. His eyes drifted finally to a docking rig that had opened up for him, clamps opening up, and a port slowly extending from above to meet his hatch. He jerked his controls to shift the Viper to meet the clamps proper. "Scan Detected." Nivera blurted out, and he looked out the window. The clamps stalled... And then began to adjust, increasing it's length, and narrowing itself, to accommodate itself for the Viper's build.

A lurch in the deck, and then silence, informed him he was in place.

"Nivera, activate fail safes."

"Confirmed. Are you expecting treachery from these people?" She asked in an inquisitive manner.

"I'm expecting them to be cautious, and thorough." He stated, rising from his seat with a massive hydraulic hiss. The back burners on his suit glowed a brilliant blue as he finally, after a long time traveling, rose.

"Securing internal network. Black Boxes are prepped to detonate."

"Thank you..." He muttered under his breath, reaching to the side to withdraw his needler, and stow it in his suit's side arm holster. He'd take the Punisher as well, but such a heavy weapon would certainly bring alarm. "Power Interior turrets." He'd say, stepping for the airlock. The first hatch opened for him, and as he stepped through with the heavy thuds of his armor, it closed behind him.

"Ready." A white flash emanated the room, as well as the smell of burnt hair. Decontamination always smelled like that, and the room lit up green, to signal he could depart.

"Leave the door unlocked for them."

"Confirmed." Nivera stated.

The Captain of the Righteous Blade raised a brow and gave a quirked smiled at Captain Stevens' exclamation in response to her storms arrival. "You have my Sincere Apologies Konugr Stevens. I am Konugr Avun'Lait, and will humbly and graciously accept your offer to dock, if only to meet you and assist in sorting out the vok our arrival has created. However, our vessels run on a fuel that is unique and made only by our people, and our presence is only to assure the safety of the civilian who seeks to undertake your contract."

She then turned to someone off screen and said to them in a peculiarly musical language "Signal the remainder of the storm to take positions at a distance from their Nasgoroth. Let them be a wall, but leave the gates open. Take us to their Nasgoroth, so I might speak with this Konugr and see if I can't alleviate some of his concerns."

To Stevens she said "My storm is going to form a perimeter around your vessel, Konugr Stevens, but at a distance. They shall be close enough to come to the charge's aids, yet far enough that they will be of no threat. The Rightous Blade shall be coming to you, in peace, and then I will come aboard to speak with you, so that these 'higher ups' of yours will have no reason to 'court martial' you. Also, I thank you for providing me with the information as to who shall guard my charge when we depart, as we shall."

And with that the vessels began moving, the small transport was already well on it's way to the docks, and by the time it had landed in the docking bay the Rightous blade and it's fellow ships were only half way to their stated positions. Inside the Docking bay the transport sought a standard landing pad, and where it found one it would make for it. Upon arrival at the pad the vessel would upend itself, and it's propulsion output came to face the landing zone. Three Vine Like "legs" uncoiled from the base of the vessel, and were used to stabilize it as it lowered itself until the propulsion system, which appeared like a quintet of bright red bubbles at the base of the ship, softly squished into the pad. Once it had, one of the "petals", shorter than the remainder, being only about eight feet high and five wide at it's thickest, unfolded and lay open. A long ramp leading out of the ship.

From this opening issued forth no less than six, seven foot tall warriors wearing golden armor riddled with glyphs and inscriptions from helm to boot, each carrying a long spear of a strange golden metal and a shield of the same, both inscribed like the armor, and with creases in various places indicating joints in the material. These Soldiers stepped forth and flanked the opening on either side, pointed ears poking out from the sides of their helms and light shining from their eyes, as they brandished out their shields to form an impressive display. Then from within the ship came a small diminutive figure, only three feet in height with green hair and eyes, purple skin, wearing a light green tunic and earth colored pants. Her ears were short and elfin, her eyebrows extending an inch a piece beyond her face, and her light grass green hair cut short and styled into spikes. A pair of short antlers, like those on a young male deer, poked from her temples. She walked barefoot down the petal ramp, and a short tail, also like that of a deer, twitched at the base of her spine. She held in her hands a small transparent screen, and her thumbs rapidly tapped at it as she bit her lips and squinted her eyes in concentration.

Armed guards met Larion at his ship, clad in plate carriers, and with vacuum-sealed suits and helmets. One of them raised an eyebrow as Larion appeared in his power armor. "Damn man, I know we sure as shit aren't a cruise boat, but we ain't pirates." He put a hand to his helmet as a muffled voice spoke to him. "Aight, your record says you get shit done, so long as you don't pick a fight or anything, stomp around and make us feel tiny all you want. Also, Wastelander's AI says if your gonna pretend you've never taken a job from an asshole, you might want to make sure said assholes don't recommend your services. Not that she could find any details on why they recommended you, mind. Right this way bud. Techs are gonna take a look at your ship and make sure you haven't done anything that'll make the manuals useless. I hope you did. Techs like to think they're the only ones who can take apart a mining tug and turn the parts into a corvette." With that the marines led Larion out of the hangar and to the conference room where he'd be interviewed. While their weapons were held in a relaxed manner, they were taking up positions all around Larion, in front of him behind him, to his sides. In addition, non-combat Navy personal were noticeably absent from the route he was taking.

The civilians transport's crew was greeted far more gently. Instead of Marines, the guards were more lightly armed Navy Security, most had only pistols and a ballistic vest. They tensed on seeing the heavily armored guards exiting what they were told was a civilian ship, but the only move they made was their sergeant, a man with a plate carrier and a shotgun, murmuring into a headset before nodding. A dark, lithe woman with pointed ears, red eyes, and snow white hair greeted the transport's crew. "Welcome to the Wastelander, we appreciate responding to our contract offer. If you'll walk we me, I'll give a rundown while we head to the conference room, where you'll be free to interview the captains of the various escorts. You don't have to interview any of them if you don't want, and I can assure you that all of them are trustworthy. That said... a Mr. Lithen, while he has passed our security criteria, he arrived only a few minutes before you arrived, so we haven't interviewed him ourselves yet. As such, it will be up to you whether or not he is assigned to your escort."

"As the initial offer stated, you will be transporting a large volume of refined materials to an industrial world, specifically to an electronics manufacturer. We'd prefer to do it ourselves but... we have to pass through the borders of a nation that doesn't recognize the Independent Alliance of Corporation's sovereignty. Specifically, they believe we, the Stellar Mining Company, don't have the right to secede, and if we weren't backed by the IAC... well, I'm sure I don't need to explain that nastiness. As it stands, we're hoping if we send a convoy that doesn't bare our ID's, they'll ignore it and let it pass through. However, there still a chance they'll attempt to arrest you and seize your ship and your cargo under the guise of "Forcibly collecting taxes owed by the SMC."

The woman gestured to a passing mercenary soldier, clad in powered armor rather than the simple plate armor of the Marines. "That said, we've made damn sure that they think just you're some freelancers taking a gamble, rather than a sponsored convoy. They'll be expecting a haphazard group of hired thugs on their first real job, not professional, experienced mercenaries. As such, if they do try to stop you, they'll only send a light force, at most, a few frigates and maybe a strike carrier. And they'll be expecting your escort to run at the first sight of them. Instead, your escort will hit them hard, and if they can't fight them off, then they'll buy you enough time to escape. They won't have enough time to mount another strike before you're long gone."

"Before you leave, you'll be joined by a freighter hired by one of our business partners to transport medical goods to a planet in the same area as your destination. It won't be bringing an escort, but it's supposed to have enough AA guns to rip apart any fighters that get close." With that, the elven woman led the deer-like woman to the conference room were she was soon joined by Larion and his escort.

As the Righteous Blade approached the Refinery ship, they were hailed once more. "This is Wastelander traffic control to Righteous Blade. Ahhh, your ship's a little too big to fit in our hangar bay, you'll have to dock externally..." The man on the other end paused, an elderly man seeming to have hearing damage if the loud tone of voice was any indicator. "Riiight, your gonna have to sit tight for a few minutes while we scan your ship and configure our docking tubes to your ship, we don't have your design on file. Might take a while, just make sure to point your docking array at us. Also, scan-techs want me ask you to turn off your sensors while the dock workers do their thing, they say it'll set off automated alarms. Don't matter to me, those boys have been getting lazy lately, feel free to make em earn their pay." The man pauses again, muttering as he mulled over something. "Shit, alright, that beast you're flying around in has only one place to go, the external construction bays. It'll figure out how to get you docked damn fast, but depending on how your security's set up, it might set off alarms. Some ship computers see our construction bays and assume that we're trying to cut our way into your ships for a marine assault. Try not to freak out if whatever system you're using tells you you're being boarded. The rest of your fleet is fine, just hover by the external landing pads and wait for the airlocks to figure it out."

The small woman groaned out loud "Oh, Gnish vakun tooli for'ven sektu!" Her voice was light and lilting, sounding more like a brook cascading down a hill and bubbling over rocks in a small pooling waterfall than a living creature speaking. Despite how musical her voice was however, it could do nothing to hide the obvious fact that she was cursing, as she turned and chucked the little screen she had as hard as she could towards her ship. It went about two meters before bouncing pathetically on the ramp, a testament to just how weak physically the little impish creature was. She turned back around and looked at the elf with the petulant look of a child who had just lost a game. "A'vin toru lemt canor." She said, a hand on her hip as she gestured with a thumb at her ship and the guards sitting outside it. She waited for a response before realizing that she was obviously not understood, and began running through a shopping list of languages before hitting on common "How about now? You get common here?" She said, nodding as one of the guards reacted. "Okay common it is, so I take it since you have your own little escort for me I can send these guys back home?" She asked before turning and, without actually waiting for a response. "Mashu limpu gatin suk. Vetnor alik lefran dor ekni Konugr Avun'Lait, veshu m'ranr kost veknor." She said to them in her musical voice, to which the soldiers responded by stomping their feet once and jerking to attention. Almost immediately after each one of them burst into a smokeless flame that resembled mist and fog more than fire. A moment more and they were all gone, without a trace of their presence left.

The girl then turned back to the elf and her new escort and skipped over to them. "Right, I hope you guys have snacks cuz i am dying of hunger over here." She said as they escorted her to the conference room. "Oh, I'm Maiori by the way" She said in an offhanded, matter of fact manner. Her entire demeanor and attitude made it very apparent that she had not been paying attention to the woman, and would probably need to have things explained to her again shortly.

Meanwhile aboard the Righteous Blade, Konugr Avun'Lait was discussing something with members of her crew. She was at this for Several minutes before responding to traffic control. "There is no need for concern. Our people do not usually use a physical means of transition from vessel to vessel." She said, her voice like a fountain of water falling upon crystal. The Righteous Blade positioned itself over the Wastelander and held that position, several hundred meters apart. The remaining ships that had come with the Righteous Blade stood sentry 30 kilometers away, forming a long and large half circle away from the mining operation. Each one had up ended and now stood like a sentry. Any who looked out at them would get the distinct impression of a series of towers keeping watch, both on what was outside, and upon those inside.

Then, with absolutely no warning whatsoever, the Helm of the Wastelander would find that a circle of runes had appeared not a stones throw from Captain Stevens Position. The circle shone brightest in the center, forming a cone of light that blurred images seen through it. The shadow of a person appeared, and then Konugr Avun'Lait stepped out of the light. As the circle faded away behind her, she stood and saluted Stevens in a strange gesture. Her left fore finger touched her lips, and then she twisted her hand forward and over, allowing it to rest over her sternum as she bowed slightly. She then straightened and addressed him Directly. "Konugr Stevens, I again apologize for any consternation our arrival may have caused you. I have come as you offered, in the hopes that I might help alleviate some of the problems our arrival has caused, as well as to help explain so that in the future your people will know not to be afraid." She said, placing both her hands behind her back and smiling at him. Her eyes were a pair of amethyst jewels in color, and her hair was a dark and deep black, pristine and bright in it's darkness. her dress was simple, a white tunic with golden trim and solid black pants tight and form fitting. In appearance she was human, and young looking at that. But the Captain would find that in her eyes was the jaded and cool look held only by those who had born witness to several scores of years. Her eyes were the eyes of a world weary ancient that had borne witness to more than most hoped not to.

Larion had found himself in a conference room, surronded by his 'escort'. He kept a stern, stiff military stance of some sort, his armors pauldrons held broad, his great mechanical hands held toghther behind his back. He stood almost against the wall, and remained silent.

When they were joined by what looked like a hybrid of a deer and girl, he couldn't help but stoop just a bit over to peer at this girl. She was... Short. Short and small enough that one could mistake her for a child. Infact, he wasn't sure if they were just a short speices, or if she really was a child.

He reasoned that a child wouldn't have a place as a captain, or head technition, or what ever her purpose was here. Then again, he always seemed to hear about some child progeny doing some amazing thing you'd usually leave in the hands on mature beings. Perhapes this was the case? Given he was in what appeared to be a conference room, he assumed he'd find out.

He turned his thoughts to the walk over here. The ships AI had no problem digging into the records he didn't care to mention, and then saw fit to tell the Marines. He quitely cursed to himself, as it seemed the accused him of hiding it. Not telling them was one thing. But deliberately trying to hide the records was another.

As a side note, he told Nivera to keep herself rather silent. He trusted her, of course, but he also trusted another ships AI to experiment with his ship.

Then there was the whole power armor talk. He ignored it. He got it everywhere. And from what he can deduce, it was far from their biggest scare today.

He'd give them some slack though, mentally, and rather chuckled at their quips about their techs. They had no idea what they were in for, as he had customized the viper himself, and most of the surplus parts it had started with had been replaced with the highest quality gear he could get his hands on, and thankfully, usually via legitable vendors. He knew for a fact that the internal repair nanites were sold to him by someone on the black market, but he had the proper permits to own them for himself, so he couldn't really care.

For now, he concentrated on the meeting room, which for the moment consisted of the girl. He gave her a quick once over, and then straightened back up, silent. He was a professional, and he'd display himself as such.

Admiral Stevens stood as the runes appeared in front of him An alarm sounded, and Navy Security forces rushed in. Despite the seriousness of someone simply teleporting onto what was supposed to be the single most secure part of any ship, the fact that it was so completely unexpected left the only nearby security forces being pathetically underequipped. Pistols only, and the only person with any armor was the chief security officer, and just a ballistic vest at that.

Admiral Stevens, seeing Avun`Lait taking shape, shouted. "Mother of Kariad! Do these people want us to shoot them?! Stand down soldiers, stand down! Shut off that alarm! The man who fires the first shot is getting tossed out the Selek damned airlock! Do you hear me?!" His veins pulsed, the sheer recklessness of these people infuriating him.

As the Konugr spoke, Stevens grew visibly more furious. One word, especially gnawed at his temper. "Consternation? Consternation?! Do you realize that you just pissed all over one of the most basic fucking diplomatic protocols common to every fucking intelligent species known to the galaxy?! Let me spell it out to you, when a complete fucking stranger offers you food and safe passage, you don't refuse and instead suddenly force your way into their leadership's command center! When we offer you a docking space, we aren't doing it because we're primitive and have no better methods! We're doing it because it's basic, common sense! We have a single fucking airlock attaching our two ships, and we both have security and a sense of safety! We get to post guards at the airlock and make sure you don't fuck up our damn ship, and you get to do the same damn thing! It's a neutral, mutually beneficial method, it guarantees we start on equal footing and can get a feel for each other, it's a basic first contact concept!"

As Stevens finished, he breathed heavily, slowly calming, though still visibly angry. "Look... I don't know what your customs are... but anyone else would have starting shooting at you the moment your ships were in range. And frankly, given the way you just showed up unannounced, even I wouldn't blame them. If I were following protocol, I would have shot you." He sighed heavily, sitting in his chair. "We're not going to get anything done like this. I'm an admiral, not a diplomat. I've reached the end of what I can handle. If the the captain of your ship..." He paused, eyes focusing on a screen to his right. "Maiori still wants to participate in our contract, she's free to do so. I won't hold a civilian responsible for their military's unimaginable recklessness. But I'm going to have to ask your military vessels to leave IAC space. I'm willing to tell my government that it this was all a misunderstanding, but you need to understand, bringing military ships into other nation's territory without authorization is absolutely an act of war. I'll send you a data file on our borders, please understand, from this point on, we will treat your ships as we would any other. Which means we will not hesitate to use military force if you violate our borders again. I overstepped my authority just by giving you permission to dock and resupply. I've pushed my command as far as I can. If you do not leave IAC space, I will have to deploy military force. This said and done, you are welcome to send a single diplomatic ship to my government. We will welcome the chance to talk with you on equal footing."

The woman escorting Maiori sighed as she realized the woman hadn't been listening to a word she had been saying. So, she simply waited for Maiori to ask, and repeating the information as necessary. The Security sergeant chuckled at the representative's obvious frustration. "Right, Lithen, this is Maori. Soon as she's ready, she'll decide whether or not you get the job. It's her ship you'll be protecting, and you arrived just in time to be interviewed by her, rather than us. Course, she might just decide to hire you without a thought. What do I know. Probably a good thing. The pay officer responsible for interviewing you lot heard about you flying through an asteroid belt to get here. Probably would have rejected your application. Guy is good at his job, but doesn't like anything that in the book."

Larion's ship, meanwhile, was being thoroughly, vigorously inspected by various technicians and engineers. They had their hands full, the various upgrades Larion had made were keeping them on their toes, and they were not fond of the active defense turrets. The engineer in charge sent a message to another department recommending Larion be tossed out, only to find out, to his disappointment, that the decision to hire Larion wasn't up to them anymore. Frankly, Larion had lucked out with the arrival of the freighter.

Larion bit his tongue. He was being chastised for flying into an asteroid field. Of course, it was active, but they treated it as if he had absolutely no idea what he was doing. Sure, you don't just fly into one, especially one in this condition, but these people had miners who regularly put themselves in the danger of the field, and automatically assumed that an outsider couldn't navigate it! After all, he had Nivera, who's original sole purpose was to supply him with tactical and navigational data on the-

Matter at hand Larion, lest you start shooting something out of frustration.

His visor tipped itself to glance at this short woman, little girl, what ever she was. Frankly, Larion didn't give a damn. A pay master was a pay master. They gave you an objective, you completed it flawlessly.

In the end, he decided it would be best to just treat her as if she was a mature member for her species, what ever that was.

"Pilot Larion Lithen." He began his speel in his gruff, vaguely accented voice, hopeful he can get through it quickly enough to retain her attention. "I'm an /experienced/" He lifted his visor briefly to the representative at this word, as if to hammer home a point. "Combat pilot, Specializing in dog fights, and large scale ship crippling."

He bowed just a bit out of habit, before continuing. "I am also experienced in foot-combat, with advanced training both in, and out, of armor, and have years of such work speaking to my name. I am capable of boarding hostile craft in coordinated efforts, and take pride in being a capable Personal Body Guard, Search and Rescue and Recover, and Search and Destroy. You may find further details in my public records."

====================

Nivera observed as the fleshlings crawled about her ship, cautious at their probing and cataloging. She had no qualms with keeping the interior turrets active, even if they seemed agitated at their constant droning and blinking. She much preferred the quite, occasional inquisitive manner of Larion, not this yammering of voices clamoring to ensure the ship was in 'tip top shape.'

She kept to herself, and simply resisted any attempts for these 'techs' to inquire anything from her, as she was told, and instead occupied herself by configuring the drives and systems for the additional load the new equipment that would be loaded.

She had calculated that there would be no substantial difference when the StarKiller launcher was loaded, though thought the idea of Larion charging anything bigger than a frigate with one of these things rather silly. While their capability for damage was enormous, the corvette was more built to decimate and obliterate groups of fighters. The launcher would probably be used simply as a way to inflict damage on ships subsystems rather than actually make an attempt to destroy hull, which the mere thought of elicited amusement for the AI. It would take an amount of missiles they simply couldn't store for the launcher.

Then there was the point defense, two lasers which would be mounted at the hard points, which held themselves at the apex of both sides. 51-MX "Boomer Stopper" they were affectionately called, where their sole purpose were to target missiles locked onto them, and force their warheads to explode, or their tracking systems to malfunction, from thermionic damage.

There was also the Cargo scanner, which was something mounted into the internal components, but it was rather negligible on her things to consider.

In the end, she decided with what amounted to the equivalent of trepid thinking, she'd do a full systems diagnostics, to make sure these 'Techs' didn't leave behind something as absurd as a listening bug. Not even her decision, Larion would order one the moment he was back. That creature was paranoid when it came to his ships, to the point of freaking out other creatures...

Case in point, those active turrets, she figured.

Avun'Lait looked around her as all the marines and soldiers began tensing up. When Stevens mentioned opening fire she smiled at him. "I am truly sorry Konugr Stevens but I believe this misunderstanding is a bit more... simple, than you claim." She said, gesturing at the screen behind her, where she continued to stand aboard her ship. "Perhaps if I explain. Your people appear to use these constructs and macheena to perform various functions that we have simple adaptations of magic for. I assure you the presence on your ship is nothing more than a psuedo physical avatar, meant to allow me to be aboard your ship while not actually being aboard your ship." She paused them and pressed a finger to her lips thinking. "I uh... Ventu lorien, it is hard to find the words that we do not have in common, but I am not just the captain of the Righteous blade, you see. I am also it's power source. Without me present aboard the ship, it would be rendered inert and incapable of self defense. Therefore it is forbidden for a Konugr to leave their ship." She shrugged at him. "As doing so would mean putting the lives of their crew at risk. So in fact by inviting me to board your ship you left me at a rather troubling problem. On the one hand, I am not allowed to turn down an offer made by a fellow Konugr, lest I intend to challenge you for control of your nasgoroth. Yet on the other, I am not allowed to leave my vessel."

She chuckled then, and the crew aboard the wastelander would detect the Righteous Blade departing. At a distance the other ships had already begun to warp away, yet the "avatar" continued to speak, even as the Righteous Blade went out of range of normal communication. "To be sure, we only came close enough so that the Avatar could be sent. In this way, I can assist you by... Ah what is the word? Filing? Freeing? Eh?" She paused as she thought on it.

Meanwhile, in the conference room, Maiori pulled a chair from the table and then propped it's back against the same. She then climbed into the seat, and from there onto the table, here she turned and looked at Lithen. She still didn't match up to his height however, and bit her bottom lip at this. "Your tall is what you are, but all this tutin you have covering you is kinda silly. Can you step outta that thing? Or is that literally your body?" She asked him, but before he could even answer she continued on. "In any case I don't really care for all the hubub and fumeni, And don't get me started on paperwork. So let's make this very simple. I have three questions for you." She hopped off the table, the landing causing her to fall flat on her face. She seemed unfazed however, and simply climbed back up before continuing. "First, can you fly? Second, can you shoot? And third, I'm hungry."

She looked over to the rep after her statement. Tapping her foot with the rapidity of a rabbit. "No seriously, I'm hungry and this isn't making it any easier."

Stevens closed his eyes, taking a breath, and gestures to one of the security officers. "You want to help? Alright, Ensign Davis will be escorting your... avatar... to guest quarters. I don't want a foreign commander getting a personal look at the command center of one of our flagships. We'll have someone to talk with you eventually." With that, the security officer opened the door for Avun'Lait, escorting her to any non-essential part of the ship she wanted.

The SMC representative murmured into an earpiece, and within a few minutes, a man, dressed in the yellow jumpsuit of an enlisted engineer, rather than the bulky read suit of the security personnel arrived with a cart of food. When all was said and done, this ship was designed first and foremost as a mining vessel, even if it's modular nature let it be configured to almost any task. As such, while not bad by any means, it was the sort of food that would satisfy people who spent their entire day cramped in hot, tight mining ships, sweating like pigs. Simple food. Generally cold food. A large, meaty sandwich, and ice cold water. In this case, several sandwiches, as they hadn't the slightest clue what this woman ate, or how much. For all they knew, the woman was feeding a micro-singularity. It never hurt to have a lot of food when dealing with an unknown species.

On Larion's ship, the techs had finished their initial sweep, and were getting ready for the order to start the upgrade, mostly running more detailed scans on the ports so the machinery would need less input when installing the equipment. Of course, being part of a professional military, there was plenty of things about mercenary ships that could slow them down.
"Captain... uh... mind coming here for a second? His sensors are hooked up all wrong." The engineer was in the cockpit, a tool pointed at the interface. The Captain in question groaned, and walked in to take a look, clearly more used to custom rigs than his team. He looked at the screen, confusion on his face for a moment before it registered. "Oh, yeah. Don't worry about that. You see that a lot with tech-savvy mercs. They gut their computers and remove some of the throttlenecks to get a little extra juice out of sensors. Needs more frequent maintenance, but if you can't get your hands on military-grade gear for whatever reason, and if you know what you're doing, real helpful. We don't do it because engineering teams would throw a fit at the increased costs, especially since we can afford to pour money into designing better sensors."
An engineer inspecting the generator spoke up. "Captain-" "Boy, if this is something I can figure out in under thirty seconds, you're getting your ass transferred to a swarm frigate! See if you have time for asking dumb questions then when you're inspecting hundreds of goddess-damned drones!" He shouted. The engineer paused. "Uhhh... right." He said, going back to scanning.

Larion watched whom he was convinced was some sort of Child Protegee attempt to match his height, fail, and then listed off how she didn't have time for any of the official nonsense, and just wanted to know that he could do his job.

Well. He figured he'd might like this child. Maybe he could get a return trip job.

"Can't say I can run circles around fighters in a corvette, but I can make my girl dance with the stars and guns, and dish out whatever they fail to shoot me with."

He glanced over as a trolley of food was rolled in, and pointed a low finger towards it. "As to your third question, your friends here have answered your most dearest prayers." He said, with a rare hint of friendly humor.

There was a yammering of Nivera's voice over his calm, and he lifted up one of his hands to signal he was busy, turning to the side to listen to Nivera. She mentioned the tech's combing the ship, and rather amusingly noted their interactions with their officer on deck. He muttered a few thank yous to her, and then turned back to the conference room.

"I come fully equipped for any combat job you need me for. I might be expensive, but I guarantee you I'm well worth it."

Avun'Lait smiled and nodded to him, following the ensign assigned to her. She declined a tour of the vessel, instead asking that she be escorted to the room provided. "My Nasgoroth is about to make the return jump and I need to devote all of my focus to it. When Konugr Stevens is ready for me, I will be here." She said as the Avatar turned to solid stone, a statue standing in the room.

Back in the Conference room, the moment the food had arrived Miaori had rushed over to it on her short legs, climbed from the table right onto the trolley, and began eating. The sight was rather disturbing to see. Essentially, her entire face opened up. Her lower jaw split into three parts, each looking like a section of carapace, connected by a membrane to prevent food from falling out. The upper part of her split in half between her eyes up to her fore head. The result was a series of six plates connected to each other forming a rather large maw, with the sections all covered in reddish short sharp "teeth". Both of her arms then unraveled, revealing themselves to be in fact made of five vines twined together to form the hands. This monsterous appearing creature began devouring food on the trolly, until there was nothing left. Once all the meat had been eaten (she cast away the bread and anything else that wasn't to her liking) she returned to her prior form, smacking her "lips" and licking them with a disturbingly red tongue. her left arm rewound itself to resemble a more humanoid form, while her right arm remained uncoiled, the vines sitting in the pitchers of water as she "drank"

She looked at Lithen and said. "Huh? Oh uh, no my third question was whats your name?" in a far too nonchalant manner. It would do well to be noted that after she had eaten, Maiori was no longer a mere 3 feet in height, and in fact as she drank more water her body began to swell and change, taking on far more human proportions, and as they did so, her physical appearance also changed. The tail that had twitched before now grew in length, becoming more of a tendril than a puff of fibers, her antlers also ceased to appear stubby like those on young deer and now revealed themselves as the sharpened edges of the "mask" that was her face. Indeed her face had also changed, resembeling a bone white wooden mask, the eyes solid black except for the green marking the irises. her hair had grown longer out of her head, willowy strands with leaves budding from them. Her body was revealed to be made mostly out of a combination of plate sections interconnected by vinelike "muscles". The plates were the purple color that had seemed to be her skin, while the vines were a green with striations of red. This new form, though hard to tell from it's position on the table, was almost six feet in height.

The guards in the conference room remained impassive, evidently used to species just as messy eaters as Maiori. The Rep rose an eyebrow as Maiori changed her third question, but remained silent. Muffled voices came from her earpiece, and she nodded. "Excuse me, but the freighter you'll be travelling with will be arriving within ten minutes. The captain isn't exactly known for his patience, so if I may, I'd like us to be ready to leave as soon as he gets here."

The captain of the engineering team looking at Larion's ship paused for a moment, eyes unfocused. When whatever happened passed, he gave a sharp whistle. "Off the boat boys, we have the all clear. Get your ass moving, this ship's getting moved to the construction bay, and unless you want to risk being made a permanent wall fixture, you don't want to be here." The crew hurried off, and Larion's ship was moved by the docking rig, transferred to a massive room with heavy machinery. Within five minutes, Larion's upgrades were fully installed, machinery moving at a feverish pace.

Larion observed as the creature before him seem to meld itself into something oddly more preditorial, but otherwise held his stance, remaining silent as the creature feasted.

As she finished her meal, reaching what he assumed may not be her final height, nor form, and reiterated what her third question really was, he rolled his shoulders.

"Larion Lithen." He answered plainly, relaxing somewhat into his armor.

"As our current sponsors are paying for my services, I won't cost you a bit, and I give you my word, and cite my record, that I'll stay with the convoy under any circumstances, and defend your ship with my life, until my contract is both completed, and you are assured of your safety."

He figured that was a bit much for someone who piloted a heavy corvette, granted a large one for it's class, to say to someone captaining a freighter, but it was true none the less. So, he allowed that to hang in the air.

Miaori removed her hand from the pitcher, which was now empty, and rewound it to it's more humanoid shape. She then gestured at him and said "Don't really care about all that. But your kinda scary so that's good enough." She then hopped off the table and walked over to him looking at his armor. "Why are you wearing this thing, anyway?" She said as she reached out to touch it. She would pull back though, turning and walking a lap around the room. "Ugh! Whered they go, I'm tired of waiting." she groaned, her foot tapping at that rabbitlike rate again.

Her ship, aboard the landing pad, started making long slow song like sounds, similiar to a whale. As it did so it began to open up, the petals uncurling and the vessel opening like a massive flower. inside where several more red tinged bubbles, rooms of some sort, as well as any number of vines and coiling tendrils, which reached this way and that, either searching the air or just waving about like feelers. The Central stem stood straight out of the ship, about as thick as a human body and tipped with another reddish bubble. The bubbles glowed in time with the music the ship was making, and the vines stretched out across the platform and, whenever they encountered a living being, would wrap around them softly. The vines weren't grabbing at people or anything like that, they simply wrapped around them and slithered over them, as though it was trying to feel out what they were. Any person who moved while this was happening would find the vines recoiling quickly, as though to escape danger.