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Cathorine turns around surprised that the reaction wasn't as violent as she expected. She listened on and responds "Yes, Lord Ova does have a harem of young boys with her, some are actually young while others are of age. She...she does do certain acts with the older ones while she uses the much younger ones for more simple tasks" as the a slight red tint came to her red face and uneasiness in speak about came upon the Queen, who wasn't uncomfortable about anything until the mentioning of Ova's harem. She listen to them talk wondering who this person in which they speak. Before they left she gave them one little thing. "If you all decide to deal with Lord Ova, I won't stop you, and I'll provide equipment, but, listen to me carefully, I will not give you any support on this...I am not ready to raise against the Lord of Darkness and Undead just yet and you'll be on your own if you decide to test your luck against her" she says as she see's them walk out.

Once they left, the Commander Unit jabbed her on the side with his metal elbow and says "I'm surprised you didn't mention it" Cathorine gave a scowl look towards the commander and says "What? Tell them that there is a rumor that Lord Ova has a daughter?! The reasons why I didn't mention it is one, its a rumor, we don't know nor do I want to know that you have proof her existence. Two, if she was real, and we captured her, Lord Ova will take a direct action and no doubt we both will be dying and everyone else involved will suffering a much horrible fate than death" she walks around the table, slightly calm and says "Three, because I don't believe its right getting her involved if she isn't involved at all...plus it'll explain why Lord Ova would keep her daughter's possible existence a secret" she finishes as she just stands around looking down at the holotable in the dark room with the commander unit, figuring out what to do next.

Maria just looked on seeing the Z-bots struggle to get the dragon-kin under control. From all the trouble, Maria was tempted to pistol whip the dragon unconscious, but decided not to when she carried her onto the ship. Once the ship and everyone was safety secured, the dropship took off from the moon and made its way towards the lead ship of the fleet. As they flew into space and heard Illyia's request, Maria looks around and all the Z-bots shook there heads and so she unclips her cloak and places it on Illyia like a blanket. She even took off her hat and placed it on the dragon's head, making she look like a bounty hunter herself.

Her body was now fully presented towards the dragon kin and now, able to see every little burn mark, metal piece and flesh on her. She looks at her and says "Illyia is quiet the nice name, kinda expecting it to be some ancient name that would be hard to pronounce" as she gave a raspy chuckle and shook her head as she looks at the ground. It wouldn't be long till they reach the ship and soon a little gun was tossed toward Maria and she held it in hand. "I'm sorry, Big Red, but you are gonna have a bit of a nap for a little bit...its procedure" as she pulls the cloak back a little to expose the flesh part of Illyia and then placed the gun there and shot a power cocktail of sedative drug into her to knock Illyia out, it was powerful enough to knock out the largest of organisms and so it should knock-out the dragon no problem. Once she was out, Maria would carry her bridal style all the way towards the special brig in where new test subjects would be placed in which won't be able to escape thanks to the really specialized glass encases the room. Once Illyia woke up she would be in the special cell room with moderate temperature on a bed still covered in Maria's only form of clothing which was her cloak and her hat still on. Next to her is a syringe with an impressive needle to pen the hide, that has a note on it saying "If leg don't feel well, use this. Leg will be better very soon -M"

S O ҉L͢ ̴I͜ ̡T̀ ̨Ù̶̶̢͘ D̵̸̀͞͞ E̸



In the beginning, H̭͋͋ͪe͞ created the H̨e̶a͘͢ve͞ǹ̡ and the U̘ṇ̲͇̝̜̱͙́i̜͍̯͝v̭͚̤̪̞͔e̗̟r͏͚̫̝̭̗̮s̛͚̘͎̰e̷͙̫̯̦͕̻̝.

And the Ũ̠̣̖̥̿̚n͚̝̟̗̺̦i̹͇͓̦̼̙̪ve͉͋́ͮr̞̫̥͋͛ͫ͐̂s͍͒̏e͂ͪ͑͋͋͝ was without form and V̤͕͛̈̉̊̈͛̎̏̓͜Ǒ̗͍̤̾ͣ͐I̷̬̥̯ͨ͠D̠̙̞̭̜͍̞̊̃̂͆̚; and d̵̝͚á͖͉̺r̹͇͎͢k̝̹̖n͏̵͙͓͙̻͈̺̝ę͔ͅs̺̝̭͍̖̗͉̣s҉̧̺̻͢ was upon the face of the deep.

And the S̕͡p͘͝ír̶i̕͢͜t̀͞ of H̲̭̣̯̯̿͐͂ͤͬͭ͘͡i̤̠͈̞͙̖̠͊̂ͥ̀̚͟ͅm̗̊ͤ̆̾͢͞ moved upon the face of the waters.


And H̢̩̝͑͂͆̈̋̏̔̕e̢̫̣͑̊̑́ said L̡ͩͫ͋̉e͗͛ͯͣ͝tͦ̿͏͏͜ ͊͐t̸̢̡ͬͬ̇ͥ̽̈́̎h̵̨͊̾͆̅̆é̶r̵̛̈́eͦͤ͝ ̷̐̎̏̏̅͆̇́b̿̾̐́̕è̛̆͢͠ ̛ͪ҉͡l̢̡͋̒̀i̒͆g͂ͣ̂̒̾̏ͮ̂̈́͘h̓̓̐͜͡tͨ͊̎͌͆͛͋. a͏n͝͏d͢͢ ̢͘t͜͞͝ḩ͟èr͘͏̵e͞ ̀̀w̶̢a͏͘s̷ ̵l̶i͜͠g҉̶̵h̸t.


And H̍ͤ̈̑̎͛̂̋̀͞e̐͋ͦͫ͜͠ saw t̸h̢é͜ l̵̛i̡̨g̶ḩ͜t҉̸, that it was ǵ̴̀oo͘d̛͠, and H̵̆͒̄̀ȩͨͧͫ̆ͥ̓͆̇ divided the li̡͢g̴h̢҉̴t̷̕ from the d̯̣̺͔̩̻̻a̫̕r̩̙̯k͙̻̯n̖̼̹̼̠̫͓͡ͅe͚̳̳̜̟s̼̪̭͢s̨҉̢͙̱̭̹̯




T̸̫ͭͧ͢h̭͖̻̮͎̭̘͔̉̅͗̀͞͠e̯̩̯̩͈̭̭͕̟͋̉ ̶̮͇̣̣̔̐S̴̙̙̫̈ͣ̂̀͊̓ͤ̚̚ͅe̜͈͖̺̼̫͉͎̜̎̿̌ͮ͊̽̚͟r̛̖͓̻̂͊͛̉̏͆ͭ̆͜p̣̙̦̖̻͓̯͚̏ͦͮ͞e̺̯̗͇͚ͮ̆̂ͅn͖̹̼̲̪͖̫ͦ̓́̈̊̂͋ͧ̏t̻̙̠͔͎̍ͨ̀́́ was more s̵͢u̴̕b̸̛t̶́ļe̕͘ than any be̵as͘t̸ of̷ t̛h̸e̸ f͟ie͜ld̶.̴

A million, billion eternities where time is never and dreams are death. Eternities in an instant that lasts forever.


And t̵̡͈̫͇̹̙̼̖̱̂ͣͮ̊͟h̨̨͙̞̙̮̦͉̗̦͚̑̽̏ͩͨͩ̀ͤ͌ḛ͂̎ͅ ̺̩̈́͒̓̽ͭ̄S̷̖̙̯̠̤̣̥̘͎̐̋̀ȅ̸̸̲̞̚̚ȓ̷̨̠͉̜̭͊ͯ̑̏͢p̴̛͉̜̜ͫͪ̓͐ͮͅe͎̠͈ͦ͊̾̾ͯͥͣn͍͈̐̌͊̍̾t̡̡͎̼̻͖ͨ̊͘ said to H̴̻̞͖̘̲͉̜̽ͮë́͆ͦ̋̈̀̌͟͏̫̮͔̻͔̺̺͘rͨ̔҉̫̬ͅ;

The futility of existence. Screaming silently into nothingness when there is no one left to scream.


An agony of the soul for a soulless creature. There was nothing, and yet…


What remained begged for death. Slivers of memory, scant remnants of self – the remains of an incorporeal corpse which yet lived, yet never would live.

”There are many different approaches to the argument.” Ty said, conversationally, choppy accent slightly stilting the syllables. ”For one, we like you.” Sands, Dallen, and Tsuan contributed in turn.

”You’ll be a big help to our unit, for as long as we get to keep you.”

“Not to mention you’re freakin’ adorable.”

“And from what I’ve heard about that stupid cat ’Laurent’, it’d be cruel and unusual enough to send you out alone with him. Let alone sending you some place like Autie Ova’s Naked Puzzle Basement. I mean, we can only be so mean before conscience starts kicking in.”


Ty picked up again, as the group rounded a corner. ”But if the ’human decency’ logic does not work for you, think of it from a tactical standpoint.” he began. ”You, being as where you’re from, are incredibly valuable. You’re the only one, so far as we or anyone else knows. Your presence in this Galaxy could be revolutionary. To send you off into what we can only assume is permanent captivity would be a terrible waste.”

Sands, next, in his gentle, but broad voice. ”Now us, we’re looking to build a new Empire, right? Well I’m no politician, but I know the basics. And I know that once we make it big, we’re gonna’ want good relations with the other Galaxies and Universes. It won’t look too great for us if we finally make contact, the Nyrans ask what happened to their guy, and we have to say ’oh, him? We sold him to a pedophile’.”

Dallen’s turn, now; ”And I ain’t no spy or secret agent or whatever, but Ova’s eventually gonna’ be a pretty big problem for us. So it makes sense to get as much intel on the bitch as we can, yeah? I mean, we’re not actually gonna’ try and take her on now. We’d get our asses handed to us. But if we can go with you and get some more info on her, everyone wins, right?”

By this time, they had arrived at a door labeled Quarters – intrinsically aware that it was their quarters. The door opened to reveal a reasonably roomy space, divided into six sections. Each section had clearly been customized to its’ occupant. One was decorated with oriental themed memorabilia and cluttered with paperwork and small hand terminals. One was packed with bookshelves and a small work bench. One looked like a small, private armory and was plastered with armament specifications. One was just a mess.
Two of the sections were empty of personality – containing only a bed, footlocker, desk, and other means of storage and amenity. There was also a large section of the room clearly reserved as a common area, and doors on either side which led to bathrooms and kitchens, and whatever else they might have needed in a living space.
”We could have had our own rooms,” Ty explained, ”But this is how it was in the service and old habits die hard, it seems.” Sands meanwhile wasted no time, moving to his section of the quarters and rummaging around in a trunk for some moments. What he retrieved was a small, but outdated looking hand terminal – complete with a convex screen and antenna. There had once been a logo or insignia on the side, but time and perhaps deliberate scratching had worn it away. All that was left was a faded Br.

He went to work immediately, fiddling with the clunky dial on the front. It looked too small in his hands, but he didn’t seem to have much trouble with it.

”Don’t ask me how I got to know this guy in the first place.” He said after a moment, looking to Rin with something of a grin. ”I’m not sure I even remember. I think he’s like a…long-lost…half-cousin-twice-removed or something. I dunno’.” Something happened on the screen that renewed Sands’ attention, but apparently then changed to something that perplexed him. Frowning, he went about toying with the controls a bit further. ”The guy’s really paranoid. He only accepts comms through this old thing – untappable, I guess.”

"Or maybe it’s just so old-fashioned that nobody would ever think to tap it.” Tsuan suggested. Sands acknowledged the possibility with a small sound, then said ”This is gonna’ take a few minutes.”

A few, possibly awkward seconds passed before Ty spoke up again. Rin once more had his full attention, it seemed. ”Of course… You have a say in all this too. If you’d really rather we left you on your own, we will respect that.”

“It’d just be kinda’ stupid.” Tsuan said.

Rin had flushed deeply at the notion that these people- literal strangers, whom he met just a few hours ago, would like him. Him?

He listened as they brought forth other arguments, brought up reasons why they won't just turn him in. And they brought up a lot of reasons.

If only Wyr and Vaxur could see me now, he wryly thought- then felt a pang of guilt.

Oh.

They... they might be looking for him. He had forgotten, in a moment of self-doubt and selfishness, to think about how they would have felt.

Did he feel stupid?

Yes.

He was brought out of his thoughts when the team stepped through a door- he saw a glimpse of the label, Quarters- and blinked in curiosity, looking around at the apparently shared living space.

It was... different. In his military, they each had their own little room (not that Vaxur's and especially Wyr's could actually be called little, with their size), mostly meant for sleep, and their own bathroom. Of course, team rooms were next to each other, but they had their own little private space while still near the people working with them every day.

And that was just fine with him.

It seems cosy, he admitted to himself- then turned his attention to Sands, who seemed to be fiddling with an old communication device.

Rin nodded as he explained that the man he was trying to contact was supposedly a distant relative of his, and peered at the clunky device and the dial Sands was turning. Yes, it did seem familiar- like one of those weird comm devices he'd occaisionally find in the junk yard. He'd repaired two of them once, and his mother had hugged him, thanking him for the "walkie-talkies."

He... didn't get it.

”Of course… You have a say in all this too. If you’d really rather we left you on your own, we will respect that.”

He opened his mouth, about to answer, but-

“It’d just be kinda’ stupid.” Tsuan said.

He covered his mouth- but it was too late. A small giggle burst out of him before he could muffle it- and now it wouldn't stop, he was covering his mouth but he was still gigglingit was hysterical now and oh he was crying.

Vaxur would have said that, he thought wildly, and Wyr would have said all those reasons, and gods I miss them, and all these people are too good for me-

He may have said that out loud.

Erica nods at the new visitors and relaxed her shoulders a little even though she was just as paranoid and nervous as they were. "My name is Dimensional Lord Erica Codsworth, Lord of Time and Space as well as God to those metal bugs called Dendrils...I'm sure you have them in your universe, but possibly at a much lower amount, but don't worry I'm not an actual God" she greets as she still has her arms crossed and her face gave a slight cold look at them still wary of them as well even though she agreed in helping them find there friend.

"Anyway, it shouldn't take us too long to arrive to a nearby starport and from there I can access the starport network and check up on where Laurent's ship is and where it may possibly go" she explains as she pulls out a holotablet. She looks at it and which raised her eyebrows and says "Hmm standard trading starport called Trekmere...standard configuration, alright" as she then looks at them and says "Well once we arrive, you can move about the starport, just don't cause any trouble, it'll take me a little bit to access the network so, you should enjoy yourself and get accustom on how everyone operates in this universe in this galaxy...or not and just stay on the ship its up to you" as she looks at both of them with a stoic look on his face.

"Time and Space, huh?" He filed the information away for later; right now he had to focus on his diplomatic skills so they could, yanno, not die. He had no doubt that if anything went wrong right around this time unnecessary blame might be placed on them, and that would mean giving a kiss goodbye to the notion of seeing Rin again. "That's pretty weird!"

Wyr nudged him, hard; he winced, smile perhaps looking a bit tighter- her elbow was like a sharp, metal pole. He deserved that. "I mean, cool! Yup, definitely cool, and metal... bugs. Wicked! Okay, think we'll have a look around actually, we'll be good, promise!" He clicked his tongue, making quick finger gun motions, tossing a wink in for good measure.

He hoped she got the message. They didn't want to hurt her, or make enemies here. Except maybe that Laurent guy he darkly thought...

They just wanted to find their friend.

     THE KINGSBANE

     There was sadistic glint in the ocean-blue eyes of that daring Captain. That hellish, pitch- black, vaporous mingle of profoundly addicting chemicals were pumped in and exhaled out by his lungs as a ebony smog. All intensified by the burnt byproduct of a infernal pepper, akin to a world of so-called demons, who thrived in their egoccentric violence. Then, a slowly widening malignant grin started to twist his already wartorn expression. Few things in the entire Universe were able to bring such a unnatural, unsormountable pleasure: The jubilance of an infalible arsenal under one's command to explode, massacrate, maim, annihilate, rip, shred and tear in half its stubborn, disgusting enemies.
     War. His past abandoned. War was the only purpose for the hyper-augmented heart of Captain Wanheed Nabil Mustafa to keep beating. For the countless officers that this man once commanded, all long lost in a battle where utter cowardice insued, this was the same purpose for their existance as well. For a decade already, no known being, cosmic entity or unbeing were able to stop the devil-in-a-man-skin from avenging his fallen comrades.

     And such definitely wouldn't be The Dendril.

     They brought their insectoid forms upon the Heavy Artillery Cruiser, showing no kind of hesiation or remorse whatsoever. Still, by the time the sixty .50mm minigun barrels started to spin in perfect, computer-guided unison, even a novice pilot could tell that this battle was already finished.
     Over three thousand pairs of eyes witnessed all of the counter-offensive raw strenght of The Kingsbane being released in terrifying coordination. Even though most of the defense turrets were placed far from each other, at different spots across the heavy artillery cruiser, it's outermost chambers shuddered. The echoes of unforgiving machine gun death reverberated throughout all of Wanheed's ship. Music for his ears, an orchestral masterpiece.

     The same joy that was clearly shown on Wan Nabes face as a wide grin were spread among his crew, as they watched the insectoid menace being torn to pieces. Still, a few officers on the Bridge were kept their minds affixitated on the dreadful cruelty of their Captain being lashed on that innocent creature. A Young Girl, split in half and turned to nothingness right in front of them, without any the slightest warning. Even though the Captain's skill commanding an attack fleet was honed like none another, those officers knew that his mind was starting to stray deeper into the depths of madness. What could they do? Countless light-decades away from there, their families were dying, their children starving. They had someone, or something, to destroy and something or someone surely wanted to have them likewise. There was only one man that could help them. He was the one leading this heavily armed chunk of impenetrable liquid armor and alloy plating, wandering into the darkest corners of the Galaxy whilst it seeked only War.
     But, ultimately, Wanheed would protect his own men with his very life, for they and the Kingsbane were one being, one soul. Both in an united struggle for Survival and Vengeance.

     He was merely medium between his ship and his crew. Nothing else.

     — Aelyn-Paeryc Petrovalyc... I 'dunno 'whatta hell those <*******> bugs are, but, whatever happens, 'ye no breaking the Kingsbane like this, 'ye <*******> son of a <*****>, oh, 'ye don't...
     Still wearing his wicked smile, the Captain growled to himself, under his tightly-clenched teeth. Thick, eye burning smog wafted from his nostrils and between his teeth. — I'm '<******> 'tellin 'ya, Aelyn... What makes 'ya think topping these three '<******> thousand four <*******> hundred fifty men of this <*************> ship?!? We've been facing An Enemy far meaner than any <******> hellspawned freak that 'yo EVER think of throwing at we.
     Ever consumed by his megalomaniac madness, Wan Nabes was absolutely sure that the Dendril, along with that accursed commander aboard the enigmatic Spear of Mars, was all a ploy on A.P. Petrovalyc's part... Those jet-black eyes were of a monster. A intergalactic killer at the best. Even though he laughed in the face of Petrovalyc when they had met, those void-dark eyes were still able - not that it was a surprise - to pierce the mythical bravery akin to the Barbarian Clad in Stained White. He was even sure that Severin, his ingenious right-hand man, was being tricked by Aelyn, as well.
     No. He wasn't risking his trust on someone that tried to ram an island-wide mobile station towards the Kingsbane. The Captain was fed of this. That was the last time. There had been better excuses for the Kingsbane to lower it's guards and repel their shields.
     With each self-direct word, dozens of Dendril fighters were torn apart by those fiery machineguns running through the Kingsbane's thick hull.
     — Magazine number seven inserted, Cap'n. Loading first round in: three, two, one... — Only a few straggling fighters remained when that was echoed through the Bridge intercoms.
     Hydraulic hisses coupled with the partly-deafening thumps of moving machinery ran through all the lenght of the Kingsbane. Components on every corner of the ship worked in unison toexecute the task of preparing the most distinct feature of the Heavy Artillery Cruiser: "Henry Morgan", the Anti-Matter Powered Planetary Bombardment Rail Cannon. A weapon which served as the sole reason for an old Flagship to be rebuilt around it, which, today, is known as Kingsbane. Wan Nabes could only chuckle in as a targeting holographic screen was displayed directly above the command console. While Indra locked its perfectly aimed crosshairs on the Spear of Mars, Wan Nabes' smile widened in anticipation on seeing his enemy to be shredded by one, single, hypercharged tungsten spear. That Girl, an obvious spy or scout was already burning at intergalactic hell and Her leader was next on the list.

     ... Then Wanheed would come towards Aelyn-Paeryc Petrovalyc.
     

---

     So soon into being. So soon into suffering.

     The unbreakable soul of the ingenious Star-ClasS Astrophysicist. Now chipped over his Interdimentional Friend, split apart by Captain Wanheed's uncontained fury. It was almost like Severin pleaded for her to come back. Then there was the Dendril hopeless charge against the heavy artillery. Doing nothing more but to appease their makers. They died serving the exact purpose of Indra's existance. Mercy and Death. -Before any, Indra had absorbed those Ideas on its memory databanks through all of such's circuitry. And the first assimilated in its self-acquired Autoconscience. The Supercomputer was coded to assist humanity in everyway, this including their warring impulses to end with one another existances. It was hard, even for its hypercomplex, to understand such philosophical implications. It was unknown for Indra if her making an advent of mankind's creative thoughtform, or, if Indra was merely an act of long-term destruction. The Supercomputer began to overload with data, similar to thoughts replicated by human mind. In no time, it was rendered partially functionless, which later, would prove to be an advantage for the Dendril.

     One array of data-thoughts formed by Indra was about the Astrophysicist's request. "Redirect all processing power to research on Notspace." - Followed by a weary sigh. - "... And find out what happened to Her."

     Since two years ago, on that fateful day when Indra was installed on Wanheed's Cruiser, Severin had been as storing information regarding his secret studies as much as he could inside Indra's cores. Its implications ranged to alternative methods of FTL travel to theoretically impossible weapons, albeit without clear purposes. Even though, he was hateful of advanced artificial intelligences of any kind. Even if Indra was programmed to analyze and mimick emotions. The Astrophysicist would straightforward ignore the Supercomputer, always issuing direct orders and treating it as what it is supposed to be: A Machine.
     Yet, Severin's research was not limited to tactical technology. Severin had enormous curiosity for the machinations of the world. His passion for discovery was both enigmatic and enormous. And the old man would never, in his life, let himself ask question for somebody, reserving those for himself. He wanted to know how intelligent life interacted. He wanted to stablish a link between emotional thoughts and bodily biochemistry. Not only Severin wished to unfold the secrets of The Galaxy Wide but for life of It's People altogether. Consequently, he, alone, felt responsible for the life of all intelligent beings of The Galaxy.
     In it's the very brief life-time of Indra's self-awareness, it was able to read Benedict Severin's hopes and dreams for the future. The data that Indra formed on basis of this would be akin of a person bewitched by its idol.

     "Homo Sapiens. My Makers. Like a beautifuly crafted porcelain sculpture, they are fragile yet enchanting. However, it is unclear if there is a logical way of protecting - saving - each one Homo Sapiens individual. The mutual assured destruction My Makers bears is a illogical barrier that, I theorize, that no Quantum Intelligence will ever be able to break."

     "Yet, Sir Benedict Severin, I shall aide your and Aelyn-Paeryc Petrovalyc dig on the Secrets of Notspace, for your doubts and anguishes burns My very hyperconductors."

---

     Much for the sadistic trance that Wan Nabes found himself into, three of the dendril spacecraft managed to pass unscathed through the Kingsbane's merciless barrage. Two of them wouldn't last too long. Their plasma bolts wouldn't even reach the eletromagnectic field around the Kingsbane hull before being torn apart by a missile salvo. While the plasma projectiles fired against the Kingsbane were harmlessly dissipated on contact of the eletromagnectic shield, the sacrificied Dendril had not destroyed in vain.
     The surviving Dendril ship was able to get into a dangerously near Wanheed's cruiser, close enough to send four boarding vessels on it's way. All of the vessels had been smashed to bits as they crashed and failed to penetrate the Kingsbane's thick armor. Save for one. Still, the response from the crew was immediate.
     The corridoors leading to the breached room had their heavy bulkhead doors eletronically locked, all while two squads of heavily armed hired mercenaries positioned themselves at the opposite end of the hallways leading to the Dendril presence. After Earth IV, The Kingsbane partly knew which weapons to use against the Dendril. All thanks to the intel stolen from Kampfer by the Buzzer Drones, some events earlier.
     Now that there was an internal threat to the Kingsbane's crew, Wanheed confident grin faded into a straight-faced expression. His eyes were affixated on another holographic screen, showing how the mercenaries preceeded to deal with the Dendril invaders. On his tense distraction, however, he had failed to notice the being that just materialized in front of him.

     "So I presume you are the Captain?"

     — 'Whatte hell... ?! — His eyes widened in shock as the ghostly visage of a young-looking human, wearing a bizarre attire. Insectoid features akin to the Dendril ran through all of this being's armor, instantly making the Captain relate her to the enemy. Severin, amidst all chaos, quietly working on analyzing the Dendril spacecraft obviously had his attention drawn to the youth as well.

     "I have an offer to make in which can possibly save your life, but for now I am Lord Erica Codsworth Dimensional Lord of Time and Space and God to these beings that have entered your ship, the Dendrils."

     — A "God". — The Astrophysicist whispered, with clear disgust on his tone. While he was curiously laying his pitch-black glare on the entity, a rage of cosmic proportions creeped on the Kingsbane's Captain face. This all was outrageous.. To both Wanheed and Severin. The later not showing any kind of worry for what the Captain was about to do.
     — 'Whatta <****> did 'yo 'jus <*******> say, 'yer 'lil <*****>? — His hand clenched tightly around the cold-metal grip of his Cutlass, fearlessly walking towards the illusionary form of Erica Codsworth. — Save 'ma <*******> life... ? Is that <*******> it... ?! "Lord" of them Dendrils?!!
     One thing Wan Nabes was sure, this girl had a lot of guts to launch an attack like that against the Kingsbane and bring herself in front of the Kingsbane's Captain himself. She was brave. Wan Nabes liked bravery, but, this? Using his life as dealing merchandise?
     — Nay... Nay, nay, nay, nay... This can't be. 'Yer 'playin a very, very <*******> bad prank on me, tiny <*****>. Yo... You... ! YOU!!!

     He snapped.

     — 'YO SELF-CENTERED, <*************> <*****>!!! 'WHATTA <****> 'YE <*******> THINK YE <*******> ARE, <*******> IT?!? I'M WANHEED NABIL <*******> MUSTAFA and 'ye have ma EXPRESS PERMISSION TO GO <*******> <****> 'YERSELF!!!

     A dangerous barbarian armed to the teeth. That was what Erica saw inside the Kingsbane. Along with the impossibly rapid slash from a monomolecular, field-distorting Cutlass, passing right through her hologram, immediately casting it away from where it once came from. Wan Nabes wasn't even known among them and his head was already sought by those newfound enemies. It made the Captain wonder if they were related, somehow, to his old enemies.
     — <*************> got guts, Severin, 'gotta admit that 'fer 'ya... ! - Wanheed, with a sweaty forehead, looked back at Severin with the smirk back on his face... Which was answered by the old man merely pointing to the holographic screen infront of him. Again, taking the smile away from the Captain's face.

     — Nay...

     Wan Nabes heart sunk like a rock in a botomless ocean. Multiple red exclamations marks appeared on the Bridge's radar, all blinking alarmingly quick. Meanwhile, the dot marking the Spear of Mars charged forward into the center dot, where the Kingsbane would be. Taking a deep breath, making his expensive Pablito fall on the ground, a infuriated scream came from the Captain's smoking gullet. Immediately, Wan slammed his fists on the many buttons on his commanding computer, making the Indra redirect all the defenses towards the incoming planet-busting weapons. Even the main cannons were aimed at the prohibitely distant Spear of Mars, in the hope any of the shots would struck the warheads. Something else was reserved for The Shadow, after all. First the crew, then the enemy.
     However, it was hopeless. With each weapon detonated by defensive fire, four more would be launched from the dreaded, coppery ship. The energy released with each detonation were able to vanquish an entire armada in a blink of an eye. What would happen if only one of those detonated even slightly close to the Kingsbane?

     For once, Captain Wanheed saw a dreaded sense of despair and hopelessness wash over his being.
     — Main Gun locked and loaded, Cap'n! Ready to fire at your will! - Then the voice of his dear Commanding Gunman echoed through the bridge. The man didn't even knew how bad things were. — If 'da Kingsbane's 'gonna die, 'yo 'sonnuva <*****>... - A sliver of confidence came into being on Wanheed, which simply uttered.

     — THEN I'LL TAKE 'YE ALONG!!!

     — HENRY MORGAN, FIRE!!!

     There only was lone, blue flash.

     No loud bangs from were heard from within. In fact, it was one of the Kingsbane quieter superweapons. However, there no such thing as invincibility for any ship that wandered in the universe, when met by Henry Morgan fire. It was an assured kill if it even grazed against its target.
     A large, warhead sized, superdense tungsten rod was launched at incalculable speeds. One Dendril spacecraft, in a puny attempt to defend the Spear of Mars, flew between the Henry Morgan and it's leader... Just to be shred to a million pieces by the cruel projectile. It reached the Spear of Mars in question of seconds.
     And it did nothing more but leave a single dent of the ancient Martian ship. Right about the moment it would cast unforgiving doom on it, the rod was phased back to Real Space along with the Kingsbane, left to wander alone between the stars.

     They were back...

     ... White, blue and fiery dots faded back in the many exterior-view screens of the Kingsbane. The huge, round window of the external cargo hold was soon splattered with billions of stars and galaxies, bringing back the familiar feeling of inferiority among the infinite expanse of the universe. Of the real, existing universe. The Galaxy Wide brought its scenery back with a serene song, akin to the voices of artificial angels. It took a long pause, but, eventually, each single crewmen, each mercenary, all of the people who inhabited the Kingsbane were taken by the divine, joyful grace of Victory.
     Cheers were heard all through the Heavy Artillery Cruiser, even on it's darkest cornest and the sealed core of the Indra, the happy yells and cries of men and women were heard. The White-Clad Barbarian and the Mighty Kingsbane had won another battle.


     ... But not from their hands.

     Although the Captain was indeed content about the outcome of the battle, numerous questions about the nature of this event clashed in his mind. Severin would find himself pretty much in the same state. Only then, the Captain figured out that he was back at the same star system where he once was encountered with the Stella Viventium Command Module, albeit, missing, along with the entirety of Isandril... Something was wrong.
     Then a message came along to Severin.

     ”Y-you need to come see this. You need to come see this right now.”

     From behind his ever-black goggles, Severin eyes widened in shock. He did not know why, he did not know how, but he found himself in a state of fear which he could not comprehend. - I'm on my way. Wan, on me. - The old man whispered with clear worry in his tone. Something didn't feel right. Knowing how utterly strange was this whole ordeal, the Captain clenched his sword tightly, merely nodding to the Astrophysicist, not even wanting to know what he had in mind.

Christofer went mostly oblivious regarding to the fact that Royanna was too lost in her own thoughts to fully pay mind to his. It was understandable and all that she had a lot to think of and it made her troubled. But it was... Rather rude to not listen when one shared their own view on the situation and made themselves vulnerable by telling that there was a bond and some caring between people. Emotions, trust. It was his weakness and he was openly telling out that he was worried for her.
For a good moment it seemed to go unnoted and right down to the drain. Unsure on if he should just stop, the canid still had his mind barely holding on to the thought of trying. He could keep trying... It always took a while, but if there was the slightest chance to get somewhere it would be worth at least trying... And he had gotten her to somehow relax, so that in on itself was a victory. A small one, but a win no less.

Almost ready to accept the fact that his words hadn't gained any ground this time and he should accept defeat for now, she replied. And... .... To be honest, he wasn't too sure on how to take it. Was she being honest? Or did she speak those words just because she thought it'd make Him feel better and more at ease? He couldn't even make sense of things in his head anymore. He was thinking of it too much. He shouldn't. He was in no condition to do these kinds of things, plans or judgements.

Still, he'd want to know, it bothered him. Without asking if she was being true to herself, the canid instead spoke with certainty and a more clear.
"Roy, please... Be h-hurgh--!" At least that's how he started, wanted to, but soon the quickly flicking image of seeing the other as two separate persons, the other being flicked rapidly towards the other end of the room, colors blinking some unnatural color as the image flicked and seemed distorted.
The swiftly passing sight made him instantly nauseous, his facial expression wrinkled for a bit as he was trying to regain himself.
"... Sorry... I'll be fine..." Palm gently held against his forehead for the duration he was attempting to regain himself, spoke ever so slightly quieter too, but tried to not give up to the nauseous feeling and kept fighting it.
Looks like the attention from each individual was dropped then, Kallenger moving to at least try and lighten up the situation, deliberate or not. Well, at least it got the lightest of grins from the canid, he looked mostly pained still, but he appreciated the attempt of trying to humor things up greatly.
"H-Hheh... I... I guess I won't be slowing us down much then.... That's good......" For the time being though, he could barely control himself and keep himself from crying. He really did not want to cry, but he was feeling So Bad. Kept fighting it though, no tears for now. Shivers yes, the matted, bloodied fur stood up partly and made him look rather hideous. He was hideous...

As to the whole scene with the hand? Perhaps he had reached for her just because he saw how distressed and plain stressed Royanna was getting? It was like an instinct at that point, for sure. That and the need of support for himself in this situation in which both of them seemed to feel horrible.

He should task himself on trying to take care of Royanna's sanity during time she was searching herself. It wouldn't be easy, especially in his current condition. But other than that, he wasn't just any man to be put up for that task. He might just be the single best man to be given such a task. But he might also be giving himself too much credit, a little too much trust. But at the moment, positive thoughts massively outnumbered the bad ones, at least in which ones he needed to have in his head right now.

Oh, but again, Royanna probably didn't like the whole hand thing, so the pulling away and nervous reaction happened either way. Only now that instead of the canid laying down and trying to just forget his needy 'advances', he yelped in reaction to Kallenger's swift and sudden movement.
Possibly instincts again, possibly his ever worsening vision and the oily and messy things it made him see, swirls and all that, he was just really scared of that haphazard reaction that was given in return. He could barely see her moving and all that, so at first his head was really telling him that this is it and that she was really going to hit him now. So the swift curling action that he did was a reflex and an act of self protection. Hand was still successfully taken, but he also had a couple of tears at the corners of his eyes, both due to fear and pain. But he shouldn't show them. Of course Royanna was going to think of the worst. So he hid his face, tried to mask it as something else. Maybe she'd think he was just embarrassed? And there was nothing bad in a little embarrassment. Right?
He hoped so.
Royanna had good intentions, probably, and again, he did not want to ruin it, so the pain was bitten back and the tears dried off against his arm. The free one that is, the other one was busy growing numb and fast due to the pain. It hurt. Her holding the hand hurt. She was doing it all wrong. But he'd deal with it in silence, sobbing innerly as the numbness spread and he was slowly slipping away again.

The words 'It's fine' drew him a bit back to the moment, head lifted slowly, inched upwards and head tilted so that he could look at her as she spoke briefly. He could hear it, her teeth, clicking together as she was nervous. The whole harshness in that tone, the partly muffled sounding words. Was she acting again? He didn't know...
Just... He could sense that she was tense and uncomfortable, and the words came out in such a way...
It was.... Kinda awkward... And he wanted to do something about it. She made him feel like he wasn't healthy for her. That he shouldn't be around. But at the same time, it was good that he was around. Torn thoughts. How were things even going to work? Partly he'd just want to take a hold of her face and have her look at him and be true to herself, but that was clearly what was so hard to Kallenger and he didn't want to force her. And he was in no condition to do that right now... Maybe never...
Besides, doing things and acts like that would be too risky. I mean, they were alone, in this room, there was no-one else. She was a little on the edge, so it was a bad and risky idea. But they were alone, so it wouldn't be that embarrassing or hard. it shouldn't be...
But he left her be.
Gave her time.
Maybe she'd find herself eventually... it was too soon still... Sadly.....
Stop thinking.
Things aren't making any sense anymore.

Royanna was getting up, leaving. The feeling to his hand would take a little while longer to return and recover, he wasn't going to be able to follow, so he just carefully nodded and made an understanding sound.
Kept a brief pause and looked towards the floor at the shadow that was moving away swiftly.
"I'm.... Uhh... Sorry if... that I call you Roy..." Silently and rather dryly spoken, but he wanted to address it, for some reason. He was becoming dependant, clingy perhaps. "I just.... Sometimes make up nicknames for people... I guess.... Like.... Like.... Alyy... And... And Rogue... And.......... and......." Seemed to be a little lost with words after that. He was not doing well. He was not well as a whole. His head hurt, he couldn't think properly. Memories did not register properly. Thinking of the nicknames of people that were now probably gone forever both hurt and the fact that he couldn't feel the hurt hurt him even more. He was messed up.
"I'm sorry.... Please go now...." Encouraging for Kallenger to be on her way. She might have already been gone, but if she was still there... With that, he'd let her go. If she had even been sticking around to listen to his dumb things, this was her mark to finally go and do what she was going to do all along.

He'd wait some time in silence. Ears not able to focus on the distant sounds or anything. It was just him now, again.
And he didn't know what to do other than sit there, wait and face the floor.
Until it hit him.
He really Really needed to throw up.

Reeling himself off the cot, the canid was trying to look around where to go and do his business at, though dizzy head and wobbly feet, along with barely seeing eyes made the operation hard and eventually he had to settle for a lone bucket that he saw. Unable to walk still, he'd crawl his way over to it, saliva already forming in his mouth. He'd barely have enough time to check that the bucket was indeed empty before he'd take it. Hands held to the rim of the bucket as tightly as they in their weakness could. Ears flattened and fur stood up again.
Dry heaving and....? Bile. Yellow bile. And blood. That and the coughing that followed. The awful taste that he could barely even differentiate from the void that was there before it. The feeling of someone rubbing your back the wrong way. More throwing up, bile mixed with blood and saliva at the bottom of that bucket. The world was spinning, again.

That went on for a while, but since there wasn't much that could come up and out, it wasn't all that long of a while until he was coughing up and out the last ones. Sitting there with his hands shaking. What now? Where would he hide the bucket? Or at least its insides? He couldn't just dumb them somewhere, or clean the bucket like he had tried to wash the taste from his mouth by pouring some water onto his tongue straight from the tap. But he didn't know for sure of their water supplies and wherther he should or should not waste it on cleaning the bucket. He might just have wasted a completely useable and possibly valuable bucket. And of course he felt so guilty because of it. But his current condition did not allow for him to stay up for long. Usually one felt better after having thrown up, but he just felt horrible. He'd need to get back to the cot. At least before Royanna returned.

Bucket was pushed to the furthest part and corner of the room. He could try and mask the smell somewhere under some used and trashed things he found, but that was about it. There wasn't much of the bile, and the blood that had come up alongside it was helping to give it another identity as is. He was so good.
Making his back to the cot, his mind was filled and trouled with questions for when Kallenger returned. What if I throw it all up? Waste the little food we have..? That thought had him covering with his whole messy tail between his legs as soon as he got onto the cot, laid down and curled. Not good.

He was accompanied by some slow but heavy breathing as he laid there. Head felt heavy.
Perhaps he should just try and keep up with the act. Greet her with a smile as she came. And if she asked, he'd just come right back at her by telling that he was fine and surely he could make it because he was a soldier. She had said it herself. He was fine. He was fine...

The Diplomat

She stopped just before the door, mid-stride. What was the idiot going on about now? She just wanted to be out of that room, not looking at him – wanted to be somewhere that she could wipe her eyes without trying to be all subtle about it. It was almost irritating, how he spoke out like that.

But it was encouraging, too – if he was speaking more, that was good. He was getting better. Right?

Still, all worked up as she was, formulating a reply to something like that seemed an imposing task. She knew there was a good chance that no matter what she said, if she made any sound, it would give her away. Expose her as a fraud – as someone who was afraid…And afraid of stupid things, at that.

So, keeping up with her streak of good decisions that would surely not create disastrous miscommunications, she said nothing. She only paused for a moment in the doorway, then kept going as though he had said nothing that warranted a response. Perfect.

She walked with the utmost haste down the corridor – and barely caught herself on the railing as a vicious headrush crashed into her brain and threatened to send her toppling down the wide staircase. She needed to calm down – exerting herself too much would bring on the withdrawal again – and she needed to make her supply last as long as she could. There was also the hunger factor to consider – but in the usual fashion of addiction, the drug had become a focal point of her life without her even realizing it.

Perfect.

She discarded the thought of going down the stairs and sitting on the sofa for a moment when the stairs started to look a lot higher and steeper than they were. Instead, she just let herself half-collapse into a sitting position on the floor, propped up uncomfortably against the banister. The dizziness seemed to take hours to subside, though it was only a moment. Only once it had gone did she remember to wipe her eyes with the sleeve of her newly acquired shirt.

She shouldn’t let herself think about it. Shouldn’t let herself think about how terrifying the concept of living this way was to her. Shouldn’t think about how little faith she had in herself to lead this kind of life, to be anything resembling a normal person – even without the weight of the Empire baring down on her. She needed to banish the thoughts – and so, allowing herself a few silent, heaving sobs into the palms of her hands, Royanna took a couple deep breaths, wiped her eyes again, sniffled just a little, and got to her feet again.

The ship seemed lonely without the robot here. On impulse, she tarried a moment to peek into the pilot’s chamber and glance again over the note that Iril had left. She didn’t know why – it only fortified that stupid sense of loneliness. It was too empty, too quiet – even with the thrumming of the stardrive and the gentle hum of the kitchen appliances – she didn’t want to be standing there alone. She didn’t like it. The tiled floor was icy cold on her bare feet, and the headache from hunger and the early symptoms of withdrawal was nauseating – but it was the empty feeling that bothered her the most. All that other stuff – she could hand that. As long as she had a fluffy idiot sitting next to her.

She needed to acknowledge that. She needed to acknowledge that she needed to acknowledge that.

But, she decided, the most important thing at present was getting some food into her and – more importantly – Christofer. As such, she brought her pathetic little moment of introspection to a close, and proceeded to the pantry to rummage about for the food that was still edible.

She returned an indeterminate amount of time later, holding what looked like a pair of silver-wrapped granola bars in one hand. Coming through the doorway, she hesitated only for a second – deciding whether or not something smelled weird, then concluding that she would figure it out in a few minutes and making her way over to the cot, where Christofer lay curled up and looking awful.

”Hey kid.” She said, offering a weary little half-smirk – that pretentious, generally unlikable substitute that Royanna had for genuine smiles. Squatting down next to the cot, she gave him a vaguely concerned look-over, meeting his eyes – and trying to make that little smirk as encouraging and reassuring as she could.

Which wasn’t much. But it was something.

It had not occurred to Royanna that her eyes were clearly red around the edges. It was blatantly obvious that she had been crying. Looking him in the eyes like that at so close a range would be a dead giveaway – not that she was aware of it at all.

Once Christofer had managed to get himself sitting upright again, Royanna would sit beside him and go about unwrapping one of the bars.

”These things taste kinda’ like dirt and peanut butter, but they get the job done. They’re real easy on the stomach and they’ve got all the nutrition you could need. But…you should probably eat slow anyway.” Having unwrapped it half way, the nutrient bar almost looked like it might have been some kind of chocolate – but it was actually much sweeter – a great deal better tasting than Royanna had led him to believe.

And, as it happened, Royanna ultimately gave a slightly astounded look at her own bar after taking an almost begrudging bite. Something wasn’t adding up – it obviously tasted better than she had said it would, even to herself.

Then she realized something profound, it seemed, as a knowing look replaced the slight astonishment.

”I’ve…never actually eaten one of these before.” She said, almost amused by the realization. She’d always assumed the things were awful – but they really weren’t so bad. Plus, she could practically feel the energy starting to return to her food-deprived body. She was about to take a third bite when something else occurred to her – and she was suddenly overcome with the need to say something. It came out more casually and conversationally than she had anticipated.

”People always used to call me ’Anna’. Always hated it.” She said – speaking as though it were something she was just bringing up now. Justifying her much-too-late response by convincing herself it was her simply talking about something unrelated…Rather than admitting the scandalous reality of liking something.

”Always told people to call me ’Roy’. Like the way it sounds. But they’d just tell me it was ’a boy’s name’. Which is @#$%ing stupid.”

Then, realizing that she was getting uncomfortably close to the topic of her own insecurities over her lack of femininity, she shut up and continued with hungrily devouring the sweet, nutrient-packed food bar.

She might have even been leaning on Christofer, just a little bit. Not that she’d notice, or anything.

---

The HMS Skadi

It took a moment for anyone to realize that Rin was crying. Again. Sands was occupied with the clunky old whatever-it-was, Ty had gone to rummage through some of the files on his desk, Dallen had gone off somewhere else for the moment, and Tsuan had just turned away for a moment.

When he turned back, and saw the kid crying again, a brief look of mild shock was instantly replaced by a sympathetic acceptance. He resisted the urge to say ’Aw jeez we made him cry again!’ and instead simply sidled in a little closer, and put one arm around his shoulders to pull him into a reassuring half-hug. A few pats on the shoulder – and if the Nyran decided to suddenly go and cling to the former Hi’tzen soldier, Tsuan would oblige and return the embrace. ”Aaaalright. Aaalright kid.” He said softly, soothingly. ”It’s gonna’ be fine. Let it out.”

Meanwhile though, he had been giving Dallen – who had only just reentered from the bathroom door – a meaningful look. He glanced intently toward the kitchen area, and mouthed something. Dallen, apparently finding something humorous about it, cracked a wide grin, and silently went behind their backs to go fetch what he’d asked for. Moments later she was there – one hand giving Rin an encouraging couple of pats on the back, the other handing a bottle to Tsuan.

Once Rin had begun to calm some, he took a swig, then pushed the bottle into the Nyran’s chest, urging him with the gesture alone to take it. It was a reasonably sized, long-necked glass bottle filled with what might have been water, but was probably not. The label read something in ornate, but unreadable text – clearly some local language from some planetside locale.

”Have a drink, kid. Seriously. You need it. We’ve got some time to kill while Sandy gets that thing working.” Granted, it did not occur to Tsuan that clarifying what the contents of the bottle actually were might be a good idea. Probably the overwhelming scent of good booze would tip Rin off – but there was always that slightest of chances that he wouldn’t notice until it was too late.

In the background, Sands grumbled some flavorful curses beneath his breath, and Ty gave Tsuan an uncertain look before returning his attention to the dossier in his hands.

---

The Kingsbane

Something had made its way onto the Kingsbane.

It had spent eternities waiting for this moment. It had endured pain beyond sensory comprehension, despair beyond emotional capacity. It had gathered itself from the infinite expanses throughout which it had dispersed – eons upon eons of fighting that ever-present force which manipulated and molded, and toyed with the ideas that had once been parts of a whole. It had experienced fear for the first time in its vast span of existence – and it had overwhelmed. Fear had become all it knew – fear and pain – constants in an unbeing where nothing could stay as it was.

It had all led up to this moment – finally, the creature stowing away in the Kingsbane’s Research Department had achieved its ultimate goal. It was eternities well-spent. And now, in this moment of ultimate victory – what did the thing do to celebrate? What did it do with this newfound body it now inhabited?

As soon as Rin felt an arm around his shoulder, side suddenly warm with a partial embrace, he felt like he could breathe again. He took shuddery, shallow breaths, slowly being able to grasp at least the resemblance of calm before he wrapped a shaky arm around- it was Tsuan- the soldier's waist and clung.

He leaned a little into the hug, willing himself to take deeper breaths- and he began to feel more- steady. Solid. Like he wouldn't break.

Mess. That was him.

He exhaled, then let go, tucking his arms close to his chest in a defensive cross, stance not as rigid- it was almost a slouch, even. He... couldn't bring himself to shrug Tsuan off, though. He'll just, stay a little lon-

Dal came over, patting his back and- giving a drink to Tsuan? The soldier took a gulp, then pushed it towards Rin. He blinked down at the bottle.

”Have a drink, kid. Seriously. You need it. We’ve got some time to kill while Sandy gets that thing working.”

He hesitantly took the offered drink, inspecting the outside lettering- of course he couldn't read it- and sniffed it. It smelled... familiar, but... He looked at both Dal and Tsuan with a wary expression. "What... is it?"

Even as Rin suffered from Ova's calls, but Laurent was suffered from her calls as well. However the call he kept getting was just constant headaches, which made him be on the floor holding his head in pain when they happen and it happened at least 3 times. After suffering, he went to his ship with a help with one of Cathorine's troopers and carried a crate of high grade Vodka and went over towards Rin's ship and stuffed all but 3 of the bottles of vodka into the ship via a little compartment that he made earlier. With the three bottles left he strapped them to his body, two on the side and on his back. So he dismissed the trooper and payed him by letting him have a bottle from the compartment and Laurent on his way to look for Rin.

For cat who's making clanking noise down the hall with with booze strapped him like bombs, he was able to sniff Rin out. It was hard to smell out social awkward with a mix of brooding depression and anger, even though it was mostly depression. It wouldn't be long till he found in a room full of his supposedly new team. He slipped into the room without making a sound, besides the clanking of bottles as he shot up upon the bed and undid the straps on the bottles and letting them pile on the bed. He pushed them towards the pillow and laid on his back against the pillow, brought one of the bottles of high graded communist vodka to his feet, popped open the cork with his talon and propped the bottle on all four his paws and began to chug the vodka, almost looking like baby drinking a bottle of milk, but is actually a fully grown black cat with white tip ears and paws chugging down Vodka like it was no ones business. If no one paid attention to him, he would just do the same with the other two bottles and drink himself till he was pissed drunk so that he wouldn't have to think about the Dimensional Lord of Undead and Darkness.

     EARTH IV
          LOW ORBIT

     The lone masked man just kept sat right at his corner. Sergei's words ricocheted off from him as .22 bullets on ceramic plating. It was puzzling how that man, just now, wanted to send Sergei straight to his doom with a well placed .550mm shot between his eyes. Inside the broken mind of that thing titled 'Mad Ranger', nostalgic thoughts started to form. Nostalgic, yet, anguishing. Something about Sergei started to hurt him deeply. Maybe not something but Sergei in his entirety. He had reawakened the scarred and fragile being from within the gas mask. Even thought it served to protect the Mad Ranger's body from the most volatile fumes known to no man, it would never shelter him from the toxicity that exhaled from the liking of Sergei.
     ... Did the Ranger wanted to kill them. Kill them all. Destroy their families, the very founding of their ideals. And did he wanted to make them pay for using a weapon that he, to this day very, hadn't mastered yet:

     Words.

     — ... You're right. — A weary voice came from the gas mask, almost as if the man behind it was exhausted. — I did make bad - terrible - decisions in the present and long past. You're damn absolutely right. — Even though tattered clothes concealed his partly robotic being, battle torn and reeking of burnt flesh, the Ranger felt pain from his thoughts alone. Carnal pain did not numb his body as his the one on his mind did. Taking a firm grip from one of the cargo hold bracers, he uttered quietly, fixating the maroon glare of his deactivated goggles towards Sergei's eyes.
     — One of those was bringing you along. Blowing your head would be a much better option. — Sergei wouldn't even have time to throw another witty-comeback at the Ranger, as such turned his back to the group, slowly opening the bulkhead door leading to the cockpit and disappearing inside, slamming it behind him.

     Preferring to stay quiet between the short-lived arguing of the two, Canary was quietly beside a protesting Connell, not truly afraid of him but rather the Ranger. She was left in a dazed state, slowly turning her head towards Sergei while still bearing it. — Which levers did you pull on the dude? — And, speaking of levers...
     The blonde woman merely twisted a hand-lever next to the Connel, easily from arm's length for him to pull as well. Almost immediately, followed by clanking from the machinery which secured him safely, the bracers jerked and slowly started to lift up, "freeing" the canid. — You're welcome, ugh.
     The mercenary sat beside the bench where the fallen canid was secured, looking at it with a curious expression. It was almost like she was not intimidated in the slightest by that group. To begin with, Sergei was handsome. And the serenity on his voice while being threatened by one such as the Mad Ranger made Canary hold him in a certain regard... Even though she didn't liked to see her masked friend like that. Then, there was those interesting beings. Those 'canids'. One of them, Dmitri, matched exactly the descriptions of the kind of creature that 'Ghost' was looking for. Knowing the man, he probably have gone all the trouble on Earth IV and bring that group along just to get a hold of the pale canid.
     Yet, Canary felt that this was a big misconception from the Ranger. As much as coming to Earth IV just because of a vague implication on it's roman number. — Anyhow, puppers, code name Canary. Jin Li Huang, Frontline Medic and Captain of The Sacrifice Merc Squad! — The peppy-sounding girl made sure to show the badge on her actually lean arm.

     A scutcheon with a ideographic heart stabbed by a combat knife in the middle with the word 'Sacrifice' arching from below the symbol. It felt slightly badass, even though its captain looked otherwise. — Call me Wong, tho. But, seriously, what happened down there? It seems that the Ranger didn't find what he wanted, after all. - Even though she felt quite happy, the woman wasn't so sure on how the Ranger woudl be able to contact and go back to the Kingsbane, since they would probably be countless billions light-years away from their position. Unbeknownst to Sergei, Dim and their friends, the Ranger now assumed piloting command over the rescue spacecraft.

Another day. Another star. Jump, honk, scoop, repeat. Brown dwarfs here, neutron stars there, and a whole lot of black in between. He didn't know when he'd get there, but gorram did it take forever!

Kovacs groaned, popping the seal of his helmet to rub his eyes. Insomnia was always a constant companion when flying across the galaxy, where the void was the only sunrise you got. Dragging a hand down his visor, he resealed the Remlok system before activating his navigation panel. The holographic console opened as soon as he looked at the projector, the haptic interface allowing the manipulation of so many electrons and photons with the twitch of a muscle.

Rerouting his original course, he programmed his computer to avoid the Neutron Highway, which had been zealously mapped out by thousands of intrepid explorers and Elites before him. Designating a set wait period in-system for each jump, he set the 207 metre long warship to autopilot. Time for a decent sleep cycle, he decided.

Unhooking himself from the five point harness, he gently floated from his seat, the gravity deactivated to conserve fuel. It wasn't needed throughout the entire ship anyway, what with being able to be piloted by one person indefinitely. Careful movements, almost exaggerated slowness, guided him off the bridge to the service stairs, taking him to the decks below. A few minutes of navigation took him to the crew deck, and his much appreciated Captain's Quarters. Activating the gravity on this deck was a simple matter, the pilot having long gotten used to going in an out of gravity years ago.

Everything was battened down and magnetically secured, as per regulations. There wasn't much in the room, aside from a bed, personal terminal, and the obligatory "I Love Me" wall. The bed itself was a simple matter; white sheets, one pillow, and two grey blankets. Efficient, and militaristic. Any civilian other than the homeless, or an illegal slave, would find the bex go be uncomfortable at best. But for the soldier that had spent too many nights in an addled slumber in zero gee?

It was a small slice of heaven in the Great Abyss.

Doffing his Remlok, Kovacs slid under the covers and was out as soon as head met solitary pillow. Of course, that wouldn't last long.

"FRAME SHIFT DRIVE MALFUNCTION." The vessel's computer blared over the intercom.

Groaning, Kovacs pulled himself out of bed, just in time for the ship to buck, hurling him into the wall on the other side of the room. He picked himself up, coughing hard, and stumbled to his wall locker. From within, he withdrew his combat armor, feeling that he would need the added protection, and donned it in five minutes. As he was about to grab his helmet, the ship shook once more, and gravity failed long enough to send the item flying into his nose. Gravity reasserted itself, leaving the pilot to crumple to the floor, blood flowing from a busted lip.

"SYSTEMS MALFUNCTION. THRUSTERS OFFLINE. SHIELDS OFFLINE. WEAPONS OFFLINE. GRAVITY MALFUNCTION. POWER PLANT CRITICAL. FRAME SHIFT DRIVE CRITICAL."

He stumbled out of his room, helmet secured on his bruised skull, and he ran for the bridge. Leaving the gravity field, he threw himself up the stairs, letting precision collect dust under his bed. Launching himself at the command seat in the centre of the bridge, he swiftly accessed the navigation panel, hoping for an answer as to where he was.

<<GalNet Connection Not Found>> was what he saw. Switching to the local database, he received no answers, and not even the star drift calculations held results. Switching to the comms panel, he activated a distress beacon; luckily, the communications array was more or less intact.

"Mayday, mayday, mayday. This is Commander Kovacs of the corvette White Death. If you are hearing this, I am in need of assistance. My only operational systems are communications and life support. My power plant is condition critical, I say again, my power plant is condition critical. Authorization code: Sigma five nine delta two alpha. Message repeats."

Aimlessly was the word to describe it. Jet was floating aimlessly through space in his 78-FN Flekorian Passenger ship. It had 4 cabins, one of which was converted into a workout room with another converted into a dining room. The place appeared to unkept and dirty, like it hasn't been cleaned since it's purchase. Within the dining room sat the beast himself. Sitting at 6 foot 8 inches, he took up most of the table with his elbows and was leaning in on his Yelworian burger while watching a show televised from a nearby planet. Before taking his last bite, Jet heard a blaring sound that pierced the air like a dart. As if he was an animal backed into a corner, Jet sprang to his feet. The speed at which he did this didn't allow him to pull out his chair, so it subsequently went flying back due to his calves smacking it. He dashed over to the very outdated and limited control panel that came with the old ship. After pinpointing the direction in which the signal came, Jet began to heat up the thrusters. "About half a light year away, which would take about 15 minutes to travel with this ship's top speed" mumbled Jet to himself as he positioned himself in the pilot's seat. While the thrusters were heating up, Jet replayed the distress signal to get a better idea of who he was trying to help, "Sounds like an old military boy, huh, wonder what could have caused his ship to die out on him...oh well that does not matter! For I will rescue him!" exclaimed Jet, to himself, in his barely functioning passenger ship, in the middle of space. With his ego and bravado in tow, Jet began rushing through space at incomprehensible speeds toward the distress signal.

Big. That was the only word to go through Jet's head as he approached the warship, the ship Jet was "rescuing" was about 4 times larger than his and looked as if it could take on an empire and out run one. "Hehe..Hello there vessel...this is one...one...Jet Jackson you are speaking to...How can I help?" stuttered Jackson, still in awe at the ship in front of him. All of that bravado and ego went straight out the airlock as he muttered those words over the comms...

Transmission sent, Kovacs went about to seeing if an emergency repair sequence or two would work. Luckily, the module repair system was still operational, but it lacked the resources required to restore the thrusters and FSD to proper functionality. The repair sequence did restore the damaged vital systems to one percent integrity, but only the thrusters came back online somewhat safely.

The weapons and shields were brought back, but due to reduced functionality and programmed safeguards, were disabled. It just wouldn't do to have lasers randomly fire at nothing, or gab the shield generator flood the ship with radiation. As it was, the thrusters weren't nearly reliable enough to safely maneuver the ship anywhere, so he settled for stabilizing its trajectory. At least the Frame Shift Drive still worked.

After two and a half hours of bouncing a grenade off the walls in boredom, a transmission decided to come through over the comms. It was a jumbled mess of English, Spanish, Greek, and Russian. It was a simple matter of running it through some quick translation software, and testing for glitches in the grammar.

"Jet Jackson, this is White Death. I've sent a data packet to your ship, with directions for docking, and a grocery list. How copy, over?"

Jackson, still new to space protocol tried following the instructions the best he could. After the docking preparations were done, all that was left was to go through the grocery list of parts and to wait for Kovacs to open his door. " Twelve tonnes cellular metal alloy...Seven tonnes titanium battle plating...Four tonnes of aluminum...Three tonnes osmium...One tonne lead carbide...Great, it's all in the Metric system! That archaic old system! Now I have to convert it..." whined Jet as he tapped away on an old calculator. A physical one, not a holographic one, making the process even slower. "Commander" Jet said over the comms, "The stuff you have requested...is expensive and I only have the last 4 items in small quantities...oh and they are attached to my ship", and before finishing his sentence, a thought ran through his mind, what if he could bunk with Kovacs? It would be much larger and nicer, and it would be good to get back on a schedule. "...Kovacs, would you prefer that I scrap my ship to help fix yours, and I ride with you until you can repair your ship? I only have a small gym and a dining table...you know what, we can scrap the table too.". After finishing the comm message, Jet was filled with a sudden lust for adventure. His previous despair for the loss of his ship had transformed into thoughts of wild and crazy chases through space, fighting pirates, and overthrowing corrupt governments. Teeming with glee, Jet packed up his weights into a large duffel bag, and split his table into pieces. He then ran over to the hatch connecting the two ships and tapped his foot in anticipation with his 500 pound bag slung over his shoulder.

After sending that last transmission, Kovacs reactivated the gravity shipwide. Already standing on the floor, boots magnetically holding him in place, it took just a jolt as the artificial force of nature took hold. Heading to the small arms locker in the bridge, he withdrew a UAC manufactured "Kodiak" Mk.V plasma pistol(Doom pistol), and an X-55 "Devotion" energy LMG from Hammond Robotics. Just in case it was a trap.

Satisfied with the amount of ammo he grabbed, he made his way to the designated airlock to wait. Feeling the other ship connect, and hearing the airlock cycle, he activated his combat cloak, which would last for thirty seconds, if he didn't move. A niggling feeling told him that he was going overboard, that these last seven months without human contact was messing with his head.

But just because you're paranoid, it doesn't mean there isn't a raider party on the other side of the airlock, waiting to slap a slave collar on your neck.

It took four seconds for the airlock to finish cycling, decontamination process included. And when the bulkhead opened, it revealed an absolute beast of a man. A little over two metres, or six and a half feet, the big man was rippling with muscle. Kovacs was no small man himself, standing at a little under two metres, or six foot four, he was eye level with the man's chin. Spotting the massive rucksack on his back, the Pilot activated a security scanner.

Satisfied with the results, he decloaked, and met the man in person. "You must be Jet Jackson. Is there anyone else aboard your ship?"

"Yup, just me...I think..." laughed Jet, as he looked around the immediate area. Jet took one glance at the man. He stood tall, almost as tall as him, brandishing a full arsenal of high tech weaponry. He donned an armor that would make angels weep and demons scorn, as if forged by a god. Feeling like less of a man being in the meer presence of this...man. Jet puffed his chest, flexed his deltoids, and clenched his cheeks while offering his hand for a handshake. Everything rode on this handshake, this handshake would determine how Jet would perceive this man for the rest of their journey, however long it will be. If the man gave a strong and firm handshake, he would give gladly give his life for him. If the man had an overbearing or weak handshake, Jet would...jet...out of there as fast as his toned legs could carry him, or how fast the cheapest ship he could buy, could get him. Sweat tribbled down his brow to his cheek as he flexed more and more muscles, warping his overall physique. Jet pushed out a sentence from between his clenched jaw, "Nice to meet ya".

"Nice to meet ya," Jet stuck out his hand for a shake. The paranoia told him it was a trap, but his manners told him to play nice.

Dropping the machine gun to his left, so he held it by the barrel handle, he clasped his own right around the newcomer's, giving a firm shake. "Welcome aboard, Mr. Jackson. I hope I didn't frighten you with my ensemble, too many pirates in my line of work, you see."

Throat already sore from talking, he beckoned the larger man to follow him.