Vulpine Galaxies (Old VI Thread)

[Jeshal the Ironclaw]

(It's here, the original Vulpine Galaxies, the VI sci-fi mashup spoof universe! Starring Brek Larks, Sokea Tyttonimi, Anithias Freedom, Rijard M. Chaos, Tomias Kirk, Armina Rogue, Jeshal the Ionclaw, Tanya Rainblade-Ryalor, K.I.P., JRME, Vyrsa Rysk, Padraig Kesey, Xhavek Mokorai, and Willhelm (Wisp) Wanderpaw).



VULPINE GALAXIES

First post Thermidor 1, Yr 1729 – though it don’t be mattering when this be sci-fi nonsense



Brek Larks
The lights to Brek's room turned on, red lights flashed in sync with a loud emergency buzzer. The ship rumbled as guns from an enemy ship fired at the Golden Hull. Over the ship's comm a mechanical voice spoke. "Attention all personnel, the ship is unfortunately under attack! All beasts to their stations! This is not a drill, repeat, this is not a drill!" The phrase repeated as Brek tumbled out of bed and on the floor.

The boy was only in his undergarments and sleeping shirt. He grabbed the sheets of his bed and pulled them over his body and covered his ears with a pillow. The lights, buzzer, and comm kept him from sleeping, but he didn't want to leave. Then one part of the phrase caught his attention This is not a drill!

Brek's eyes shot open and he jumped to his feet. He tumbled to his dress unit as the ship rocked underneath. Once he was there he leaned on the unit with both paws on the cold hard plastic, his one paw searched for the button. BEEP. The dress unit opened and a drawer rolled out, Brek pulled on his normal brown T-shirt and grey pants. Then Brek pulled on his navy-blue pilot's jump suit and put his utility belt on from shoulder to waist. He holstered his A.X.E. (Artillery Executing Engager) gun and strapped his life support onto his back.

Then he grabbed his black space helm and rested it between his hip and paw. He stumbled to his door and pressed the red button. BEEP. Swoosh! He walked into the hall with beasts running through the Golden Hull to fight off the Asteroid Hoppers. Brek started his own run to the hangar bay, there his fighter squad was waiting for their commander. Brek pulled out his comm from his helmet and strapped it to his ear. "Brek Larks, Commander of Squad 11, reporting for briefing."

"Welcome Commander Larks," a female mechanical voice said. "Here is your briefing."

Brek listened carefully as he ran for the hangar. After the frenzy of pushing through panicking beasts the fox made it to the hangar bay. Sitting in front of their fighters was Brek's squad. "Squad Eleven," Brek greeted his crew, “we are under attack from a rebellious group of Asteroid Hoppers yet again. As you know from our past experiences they are ill equipped and easy to take down. Our goal is to fight off their fighters from our ship until they give up or die off. If they do try for retreat then we go after their ship, The Nebula. If they go into hyperspace before we take them down, return to the Golden Hull. Any questions?"

Brek scanned over his squad as silence stilled them. They each were proven pilots, Brek’s personal favorites were his two friends. Vyrsa who was a season younger than he was almost better than Brek, if it weren't for her young age and lack of experience. Then there was Rijard, friends since Brek was a teenager, they met in Bully Station long ago. Though the two were very different, somehow they were still friends. Perhaps in a different universe they would be enemies.

Then there were a handful of others Brek never got to personally know, and the squad was finished with each pilot's droids and Brek's personal computer specialist JRME-17, who he found rusting in Bully Station when he first joined the navy. The droid was modeled after a cat and was covered in black metal. His previous owner was Brek's uncle Tok, who disappeared and erased JRME's mind to leave no trace where he was.

"Alright, I see you have no questions so let's get going!" Squad 11 turned and climbed into the Bolt-63 fighter models. The small ships had a jagged shape with the cockpit then a slight incline to the wings, engines, and weapons. Brek's own had a bigger cockpit with room for JRME since he was a bigger model, the others had smaller less similar appearances and some didn't even walk but rather rolled. JRME-17 was more flexible than other droids, with many joints and functions. He could jump impossible heights and run at speeds as fast as real beasts.

JR jumped into a seat behind Brek's and the fox got in his own. "Strap yourself in JR!"

"Yes Commander Larks!" the droid said lifelessly.

Brek put on his helmet and waited for the life support to confirm ready. "Alright fellas, power up your engines. I'm getting the green light that we're the next squad to get out."

Responses flooded the squad's channel as Brek powered up his ship. The fighter hovered above the hangar's floor as he turned and slowly floated to the door, a line of his squad in pursuit. As each of the passed through the shield doors the main engines ignited and they flew into space. "Squad 11 this is Squaw Flakes, sign in!" Brek used his code name in case of comm hackers from other ships.

"D-13 'ere," Rijard's voice came on the comm.

"VY-5 signing in," Vyrsa said.

"K-leb-9 signing in," Caleb Moore from Squad 11 said. Then others signed in one after another until Brek knew each of his crew was with him.

Then Brek logged into the Hull's channel. "This is Brek Larks, Commander of Golden Hull's Squad 11, Command Base do you read me?"



Sokea Tyttonimi/Anithias Freedom
"This is Lieutenant Tyttonimi of the T.E.S. Golden Hull," a female voice responded over the radio channel, trying to speak as loudly as she could over the blares and chatter of the bridge. Which unfortunately wasn't very loud, considering at her maximum volume the soft-spoken ferretess was closer to what most beasts considered normal speaking volume. The ferretess had been granted the position of communications officer mainly due to a lack of other suitable candidates and her own technological advantage in the role.

The ferretess put her paw to the spot where her visor met her head, twisting the knob to divert communications directly to the captain's chair. The visor was one of the miracles of medical technology; born blind, Sokea had been fitted with a special wrap-around visor capable of reading the visual spectrum and broadcasting the signals into her brain, allowing her to 'see'. When she was assigned her role as Communications Officer, it had been a simple matter to install a signal relay control switch in the frame of the visor, allowing her to control the ship's communications system from wherever she was.

A small beep from the arm of the captain's chair signaled that the captain had priority on the communication channels. A paw, covered in fine gold fur, pressed the square marked "SPEECH", ending the beep and causing the earpiece microphone to automatically twist itself, adjusting to the optimum position for the captain to speak. The captain, his gaze intense as he stared ahead at the viewscreen, spoke deliberately, making his every word carry over the radio channel.

"This is Captain Freedom. Squad 11, you have a go for engaging asteroid hopper fighters." His eyes remained fixed on the screen, which showed a tactical map of the current system overlapping a video feed of Squad 11. The captain's gaze followed the fighters carefully, not leaving his beasts in the field for a moment.


Brek Larks
"This is Captain Freedom. Squad 11, you have a go for engaging asteroid hopper fighters."

"Copy that, Captain Freedom," Brek responded. He switched back to his sub channel for his squad (which allowed both orders from the bridge and communications from his squad to both come through).

"Alright squad, we have a go from the captain. We're taking the top side of the Hull, they're probably trying to take out the shield generator then the main battery.”

The phrase "copy that, Commander" was repeated through the comm. Brek pulled his controls back and his Bolt spung up above the Hull, then he turned the controls and twisted the ship so the bottom was face the top of the Hull. The rest of Squad 11 followed his example.

"Alright, I want three of you to head after that flank of three fighters heading for the bridge's end." Three of his squad left as told. "Then, D-13, I want you and three more to take out as many as you can over by the shields. The rest, stay near the ship and take out as many as you can, protect the perimeter of the Hull and make sure nobeast is able to do more damage than what has already happened. And make sure you watch out for our gun towers – I know the computers won’t let them fire at us, but we can still run into their line of fire. These engines are faster than these computers still."

Rijard took his three beasts and headed into the swarm of Asteroid Hopper fighters near the shield generator. The rest split apart after chosen targets. Brek went after his own target in the diverse options in the Hoppers fleet. From its style it seemed to be an older model of a Reaper, a slim ship made with black metal and featured a stealth system – this fighter's stealth system was obviously broken.

"JR, set the computer to lock on that Reaper," Brek said as he began to follow it into battle.

"Yes, Commander." As soon as the red circle appeared over the screen Brek pulled the trigger on his controls and the Reaper was immediately destroyed.

Brek let out a whoop, then he went into pursuit with another ship, a W-7 by the looks of it. "JR-" But before he could finish the computer was already locked on. Brek pulled the trigger but the pilot dodged and did a flip through the empty space above Brek. It zoomed far behind Brek, the todd did a flip of his own and followed the W-7.

Brek was far behind and couldn't possibly catch up, then, the W-7 did another flip and now was heading for Brek head on. Something rocketed from the front of the enemy pilot's ship. "Missiles, oh dear!" JRME cried in his droid voice.

"I see them JR!" Brek tried to stay calm. The computer couldn't target something that small, so Brek shot manually with his laser cannons. Fire after fire he missed, all the while the missiles were getting closer. Brek kept firing and when they were just about to hit his ship the missiles exploded, only about three meters from his ship. Dust clouded around the Bolt, Brek shot out of the dust and suddenly fired at the W-7 before it could react. The ship exploded in a bigger cloud than its missiles did. The Bolt was too close and going too fast to dodge it, Brek had to fly through it.

As he flew through the ship rocked shortly, then messages came on his computer that they had taken damages. Brek sent the Bolt above the fighting, then he set his fighter in "anchor" mode to hold himself still. "JR, see if you can fix those damages," the commander ordered as he pressed a button to close his part of the cockpit from JR's.


Tomias “Kirk”
Tomias was sleeping soundly in his quarters, half in, and half out of the bed. He was still clothed in last night’s attire. Due to the lateness of his arrival back, he had collapsed onto his bed exhausted, and thus had slept through the initial alarms that went off, alerting the crew of the Asteroid Hopper attack. However, as the alarms didn´t cease he was eventually roused, but sporting a medal winning headache. He groaned as he was on the clock, and pulled himself out from under the covers.

Tomias made his way to the sink, where he splashed water onto his face to waken him up. After drying his face, he dashed back to the main part of the cabin where he took off his off-duty attire, and donned his navy issue black pants, and the red shirt of his rank, cadet. The shirt was one size too tight for him, but he preferred his clothes this size, as it complimented his muscles, and made him, in his opinion, quite good looking. He quickly gelled his headfur into messy spikes, paused briefly to admire himself in the mirror, before grabbing his utility belt and running out the door, and to the bridge, where his duties were.

His utility belt was probably one of his most precious items he owns. It had attached, the following items. A miniature flashlight, his handheld PDA, his comms device, and had space for a handgun and holster (if the need was to arise).

He ran down the brightly lit hallways, and past other crewbeasts, running hither, and thither to their various duty stations. He almost ran slap bang into another cadet. Tomias barked a quick apology as he continued running down the hallway, his deck boots thudding off the grey metal of the floor. After about five minutes he reached the doors to the bridge. He pushed the comm screen button beside the door to let the captain know of his presence.

"Cadet Tomias Kirk reportin for duty sir," he flashed his roguish grin as the captain´s face appeared on the screen, "if´n you could be so kind as to let me in, that would be just peachy."


Anithias Freedom/Armina Rogue
The captain's intense gaze flickered in annoyance as a beep indicated an internal communication. A small pop-up window appeared in the lower-left corner of the view screen, showing a grinning red fox. Cadet Tomias Kirk reporting for duty sir," the cadet announced. "If'n you could be so kind as to let me in, that would be just peachy."

Without speaking the captain touched a single button, opening the bridge doors. When in battle the bridge was commonly kept sealed off, safe from any hull ruptures that might occur. It was said that the bridge was the safest place to be when in battle, and it was true – the entire bridge was protected by its own titanium-alloy armor, making it virtually impenetrable to enemy fire. This was as much a curse as it was a blessing; if the ship were critically damaged the bridge crew would be cut off from all escape, forced to die of either starvation or suffocation.

The doors hissed open, allowing the cadet inside. The captain was not quite sure why he had assigned Kirk to a bridge position; he figured it had been an impulsive decision based upon an unknown set of merits on the part of the cadet. It was certainly unheard of that a cadet should have a bridge position, but everything about The Golden Hull was unorthodox: its crew, its officers, even its captain.

The captain watched with intensity as the green triangles intermingled with the purple triangles on the monitor, twisting in complex attack patterns. Each one of those ships out there held a crewbeast, one whose safety was the responsibility of the captain. The captain was well aware of that responsibility, and did not take it lightly. All of the bridge crew knew that the captain would not relax until every one of those fighters was back in the hangar.

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

Pilot Third Degree Armina Rogue bit on her tongue as she twisted her fighter upwards into a corkscrewing flip, sending the gravity levels spiking. She felt herself pressed back in her chair, pinned to the padded surface by an invisible force until she straightened out, trailing after a W-7. Her pawfingers tightened on the controls, hovering there as the same doubt overtook her. Was this right? Did this beast deserve to die? But before she could answer that question the gap closed between herself and the trigger, launching a bolt of high-energy plasma at the fighter. By the time the metal fragments frosted over in the sub-zero temperatures of space Armina was already on to the next fighter.

In the back of her head Armina could feel Narima moving around, shifting her snaky body to gain a better view. It still felt strange, and it caused the fox a great deal of discomfort. On PJX-499 Armina had become infected with a morphacite, a snakelike parasite with no specific personality of its own. The pale, fleshy invader had nestled itself on Armina's brain, absorbing its characteristics from its host. The morphacite had absorbed all of its host's negative characteristics, from anger to libido, weaving a personality from the vixen's many faults and vices. When the resultant personality had emerged, it had been disaster. Armina was lucky to even still be a pilot – it had taken a great deal of convincing to persuade the captain that the symbiote in itself held no agendas that Armina could not create for herself.

Armina pulled back on the stick again, dodging a blast from a hopper fighter. Today was going to be a very long day indeed.


Jeshal the Ionclaw
Meanwhile, about a light year away (which was probably only a mile in terms of space-jumping), the mother ship of this clan of Asteroid Hoppers loomed in deeper space. It was operated mostly by H.A.R.E.s, Hovering Anti-Rat Entities, which looked a lot like their acronym’s namesake but for the fact that they were entirely cybernetic and jetted around the ship several inches off the floor.

Jeshal was glad he hadn’t had to come face to face with their leader yet. He had heard tell that it was a Bad A** Dangerous Grub-Eating Roarer. Those kinds of Hoppers tended to get cranky. Instead, the rogue trader Ionclaw (yes, the ‘r’ is excluded on purpose, folks) was being poked rather viciously in the ribs with the h.a.r.e.s’ patrol sabres in their torture room. Metal straps pinioned him to the wall in a splayed out star, leaving him unable to reach the bionic gauntlet that had replaced his left paw.

“Yah, gerroff! Wot d’yer think ye be doin’ pokin’ me wi’ them pointies? ‘S positively Dark Ages usin’ that stuff. Me an’ me matey, ‘ere,” Jeshal nodded to the undersized polar bear sitting in a cage nearby, “war jus’ cruisin’ by ter makes a deal over a few spices an’ the like. We’re respectable businessbeasts ain’t we, Dooey?”

“Snaaaaaarrrr!” said the runt bear.

Jeshal gave the unimpressed and slightly startled h.a.r.e.s his half grin. “There, y’see? Nothin’ ter worry yerselves about. We’re ‘armless. Incidentally, I wouldn’ go near tha’ cage with yer pointies or ye really will be armless, harhar!” A ‘pointy’ jabbed him in the stomach. “Ow! I be jokin’, I be jokin’! Best not poke ‘im though, ye can’ un’erstand ‘im leastways.”

The angry h.a.r.e.s chattered and bleeped at him.

“I don’ know wot ye be talkin’ of. I ain’t with those beasts yer fightin’.”

More bleeping.

“Aye I know I look like ‘em but no need ter be goin’ on racial prejudices be there?”

A bleep and a jab.

“Well it would look like I war goin’ toward ‘em. I was goin’ ter see if I could sell ‘em some’at weren’ I?”

The sabres made a disturbingly kettle-like whistle and began to fizzle with electric currents. The Ionclaw bared his teeth and frowned with anxiety. “Now, now, mates. Wot d’yer think ye be do- aaaaaaagggghhh!” White hot pain juddered through his body. The tips of his fur steamed as the sabres stabbed their shocks into him and withdrew before it could become deadly.

Bleeping.

“I…I don’ know anyfin’...I ain’t with them...aaaaaarrrghhh!”

Fzzzzt...

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

Some time later, Jeshal woke. His aching head raised enough to give his eyes the pleasure of seeing that he was still in the torture chamber, still fastened to the wall. He groaned. Dooey whimpered and scrabbled at his bars, trying to lick Jeshal’s face from his distance.

“Mornin’ ter you too, Dooey. ‘Gates if I could reach me console we’d be off this junkpile and I’d’ve blasted ‘er outta the void. If I ‘adn't been stuffin’ me nose down the back o’ yore seat lookin’ fer that gickblobble wot fell off the screen, we wouldn’ ‘ave been taken off guard. Me darlin’ Imperium Seagull be the fastest, meanest vessel ‘alf o’ this lot ‘ave ever clapped their blinkin’ ‘lectric eyes on.” Jeshal sighed. “Well if we ain’t the couple o’ princesses locked in a bloody tower. Where’s Prince Charmin’ when yer needs ‘im, eh? O, that’s righ’, ‘e’s bloody strapped to a bloody wall!”

“Snrggle snarf...” Dooey replied sympathetically.


Tanya Ryalor/K.I.P.
Whilst the attack of the 'Hoppers seemed to be being enacted in a rather routine fashion out in space, the modern blasters of the Hull clearly more than a match for the weapons of their opponent, down in the Engineering hull, things weren't going so smoothly. Scratching the mess of fur and braids at the back of her head as she circled the warp core with a frown, Chief Engineer Tanya Ryalor flicked her over-large mechanised ears irritably as the younger engineers continued to bring her information, eyes slightly glazed. She had been lucky that the captain had allowed her to seek refuge off of the outpost at that freezing planet before anything else was frostbitten, but she had to admit that the ears had their advantages – she could always hear exactly when something was amiss down here, and in the murky blue half-light of the Engineering hull, sound was even more vital than sight to work efficiently. Tugging the blue and white spotted kerchief from around her muzzle down around her neck to speak more clearly to the beast beside her, she eyed the swirling colours within the Warp Core as if it was trying to communicate with her.

"Have we tried switching to the plasma gels and taking some of the stress off of the Core? It looks somewhat overheated to me."

"Yes we did, but it didn't seem to have much effect," the scruffy engineer responded, whiskers twitching, "and we tried searching the systems like you asked – nobeast on the main deck has noticed a change yet, and we can't find any backup systems. Perhaps we could shut it down altogether and reset the Core?"

"Nah, shutting it down altogether could prove worse – we might not be able to start it up again at all. Well, if it sprang on us out of the blue when we attacked these darn 'oppers, it sounds like they've gotten some kind of new technology," a vague smile tugged at her thin lips, "bully for 'em, I'll have to get my paws on that tech-"

A sharp crackling fizzed through the pipes overhead of the pair of beasts, alerting them to imminent danger, swiftly followed by a sharp snapping and Tanya scrambled back towards the Warp Core railings in time to avoid a jet of high-pressured steam shooting down to the galvanised flooring from a fault in the pipe.

"Too much pressure in 'ere..."

Panting for breath as she waved the smoky substance out of her vision, the scent of burnt hair made her glance down and she spotted the severely burned engineer cringing on the ground. Releasing an exasperated sigh whistled from between her chipped teeth, the diminutive fox weaved between the boiling mess of scrambling engineers as they rushed to fix the pipe, and tapped a button on the portable holo-emitter upon the wall. Moments later, and the doctor phased into existence exactly two feet to her left.

"Please state the nature of the medical emergency," the holographic marten K.I.P droned, expression set in a light frown as Tox rolled her eyes at the image and pointed to the floored feline.

"Burns on Engineer Blake is all."

"I shall have a mild sedative applied to avoid shock, but he will need to be brought to the infirmary for a full treatment," he intoned dryly. "I'll have him sent up right away."

As K.I.P scurried off to deal with Benjamin and the small gathering he had acquired, Tanya tilted her thin face to the Core again and her ears flattened with a mechanic buzzing. This was serious. Ducking under another fallen pipe as she crossed the deck, Tox approached the small comm screen and hit the button.

"Captain," she stressed above the hissing, whirring noises of the engine room, flinching at the dim sound of a minor explosion in the reactor as she blinked at the screen, "I think you had best consider the possibility that these Asteroid Hoppers are a little more advanced than we hope – I think they're doing something to our warp drives. The entire system's going nuts down here, and if we can't find out what’s wrong, I don't know if we could effect much of a getaway, or even carry on without repairs."


Brek Larks
JRME climbed back into the Bolt. Brek took a glance at his time keeper. "Well done JR, record time." The todd started to power up his Bolt again and watched the reading for any damages JR might have missed.

"We're all clear," Brek announced. "Let’s get back to business!"

The growing impatient fox pushed his controls forward, sending the Bolt into a nose-dive back into the battle. Brek started picking his targets, a group of Hopper fighters were ganging up on one of the Hull's ships. The Bolt zoomed in, blaster fire shot from its guns taking one down. Brek twisted the controls, sending his ship into a somersault away from the wreckage.

The fighter's computer locked onto another target, Brek's paw fingers squeezed the controls. BOOM! A second ship exploded into debris. Now the Hopper fighters were turning on Brek's ship, the Hull fighter zoomed away from the enemy fighters to the hold. The fighters started firing, blasting laser at the ship. Behind him Brek heard cries from JRME about the apparent danger.

Brek pushed the controls again, causing his ship to accelerate. The force from the sudden speed pushed Brek to his seat as he pressed the triggers to send a fury of lasers into the other ships. Brek's own fighter and the remaining two enemies were flying at high speeds threatening to collide with the other, both firing blindly past the clouds of zooming lasers.

Just before the collision Brek pulled the joystick back – the ship shot straight up from the other fighters. The two fighters did a flip of their own and headed up after Brek's ship. "JRME, prepare for an immediate power down."

"Sir?" the droid said in his mechanical disguise of worry.

"Prepare for an immediate power down!"

"Yes sir, waiting for your order sir." JRME started to work on the computer's controls. As the two other fighters were flying in fast. Brek played with the controls – trying to confuse the enemy by creating the illusion that he was running out of fuel. The fighters sped up, taking the bait. Brek kept flying slowly, letting the fighters catch up. As they caught up Brek set his ship to speed up. He turned the ship and set a new direction. The two ships followed like a cat chasing a mouse that changed its path.

As they came close Brek watched a screen, waiting for a gap between the two fighters. "Get ready on the power down JRME," Brek said as he watched the screen.

The two fighters seemed inseparable. "Let all the empty fuel tanks loose JRME."

"What, sir?"

"JRME, we're running out of time for your questions! Just let the empty fuel tanks loose!" Brek's voice sounded irritated, but his tone meant nothing in the droid's sensors.

"Sorry commander," JRME said as he pressed buttons while mumbling something about how foxes were so ignorant. The back storage doors opened and the tanks flew out. Brek kept his eyes on the screen, the two fighters came close to the tanks, they dodged the tanks opening a gap – "JRME, Now!"

"Make up your mind, first this then tha-"

"JR!" The droid pressed a button and the ship stopped in space. The Hoppers flew past unexpecting the stop. Brek powered the ship back up and started firing. Before the fighters could react they exploded into dust and scrap metal. Brek let out a "Yes!" and returned to his controls.

The Bolt flew back down, over the comm a thank-you came over from the pilot Brek saved. After responding Brek changed back to his squad channel. "Squad 11, this is your commander speaking. I want a full status report on the double!"

Rijard's voice came over the comm. "D-13 here, me and my pilots fought off those Hoppers from the shields. The three you sent to the bridge have cleared everything there, with the loss of one ship, the pilot was saved and rushed to the infirmary though. And the rest of the squad, we're still fighting these rebels off."

"Give me an enemy count that's still 'round here," Brek said.

"About one and a half squadrons."

"Alright, if any beast needs repairs head to the hold. D-13, you and some others stay here and help fight off the rest. I'll see if I can get permission for the rest of us to go after the mother ship." After his squadron affirmed him they got his message Brek switched back to his commander's channel. "Golden Hull this is Commander Larks again, we have fought off most of the enemy fighters from the ship. We are planning to go after the Nebula at your order."


Anithias Freedom
Captain Freedom frowned as his Chief Engineer appeared on the view screen, her metallic ears flicking to block out the explosions and blaring sirens of the engineering level. For a moment the noise was almost deafening, carrying over the comm circuit in a terrible squeal, before the filters finally detected the many noise signatures and muted them to a low hum.

"Captain," Chief Engineer Ryalor urged over the comm screen, "I think you had best consider the possibility that these Asteroid Hoppers are a little more advanced than we hope – I think they're doing something to our warp drives. The entire system's going nuts down here, and if we can't find out what's wrong, I don't know if we could effect much of a getaway, or even carry on without repairs."

The captain frowned darkly, bringing his paw to his snout and resting his knuckle against his lips. He considered the monitor from his seat in the command module. The fighters did not appear to be facing any troubles that could not be put down to the simple mechanics of war; nor had the Hull sustained any serious damage from the enemy fightercraft. Yet Captain Freedom had been around long enough to know to trust his Chief Engineer, who could coax more out of those engines than the boys in Headquarters claimed was possible. If she thought something was wrong with the Warp Core, he would be a fool not to listen to her.

"Understood, Tox," the captain nodded to the engineer. "Check if the Warp Core can sustain a short-term leap, then report back to me. Lieutenant," Freedom hailed the Communications Officer, "order an immediate recall of-"

He was cut off by an electronic crackling over the comm circuit. "Golden Hull, this is Commander Larks again." The young squadron commander's voice broke through the static. "We have fought off most of the enemy fighters from the ship. We are planning to go after the Nebula at your order."

"Captain?"

It was Lieutenant Tyttonimi, somehow managing a questioning look from her visor. The captain pressed down on the comm button, breaking into the circuit himself. "Negative, Commander. All squadrons, return to the hangar in preparation for tactical withdrawal." Retreat, the captain couldn't help but think. "I will explain everything as soon as it is made clear to me." He released the comm button, ending the conversation there.

"Helm, low impulse drive until all ships have boarded," the captain ordered. Ensign Urel nodded, adjusting the lever to set the low power engines in motion. "Navigation, chart a course out of this system and await my order." He leaned back, awaiting the return of his crew and a response from his Chief Engineer.


Brek Larks
"Negative, Commander. All squadrons, return to the hangar in preparation for tactical withdrawal." The captain's voice buzzed over the comm. "I will explain everything as soon as it is made clear to me."

Retreat? The battle was almost over, and the Hull beasts winning. Then why would the captain order retreat? Brek let out a sigh, then passed the order to his squadron. "Change of plans, the captain has ordered all ships to the hangar. Repeat, all ships to the hangar." The ships started to dodge the remaining enemy fighter's laser cannons. There was blaster fire from enemy ships while some of Squad 11 tried to enter the hangar.

Brek started barking orders, trying to stop the problem "Every beast that’s not already in mid-boarding, try and fight off all those attacking boarding fighters! And don't let a single Hopper through those doors! Keep them as far away as possible, run them off if you can!" Bolts from all around Brek's started to take aim at the attackers.

Rijard's own fighter started plowing through the mess of ships and blasted the fighters. Brek's ship went after another group. "Don't take too long, we can't hold these guys forever! Quickly get in those doors! We don't have the time for laying around every ship inside! Go! Go! Go!" His orders might have caused panic, but he had to get all the fighters inside before the Hoppers could fight them off.

The Bolts tried to speed through the crowded doors. Some pilots even out of their squadrons were getting anxious and threatening to push through the line. Metal scratched metal as Bolts got too close to each other or the entrance. Brek and a few kept shooting down targets. A few Bolts were lost in the madness as they either crashed into another ship or were shot by the Hopper's many different fighters.

"D-13 here commander, you'd better get inside before it’s too late. My guys got this. Don't worry," Rijard said over the comm.

"Thank you D-13, don't stay out too long," Brek called back on the comm as he flew into the doors. Inside the hangar was crowded with ships trying to land. Brek put his ship in hover mode to keep from rubbing the bottom on the floor. After he landed he opened the hatch to the cockpit. "JRME, receive a report from each of my squadron. Make sure they all sign in and give me the names of anyone missing."

"Yes Commander Larks," the cat droid replied as he ran off into the hangar with his mechanical tail swaying behind his metal body. Brek marched for the bridge, he wanted an answer and hoped one beast on the bridge could give him one.


Rijard M. Chaos/Brek Larks/Vyrsa Rysk
"Excuse me, Rijard."

The marten looked up from repairing his ship; his paws were filled with a flame gun and a tool gadget and a flame resistant visor over his head. Rijard was balancing on a ladder as he turned his head over his shoulder.

Rijard turned off the flame gun. "What is it JR?"

The cat-droid was a bit nervous around Rijard, mostly because the pilot though he should be disposed of since droids shouldn't have all the functions JRME had. Functions like emotions such as him being nervous, Rijard found them extremely annoying. "Well sir, I can't seem to find Commander Larks. I have a report of the 11th Squadron and you being in second command I thought it necessary to give it to you in Lark's absence."

Rijard groaned as he climbed down the ladder. "Very well let’s see it."

"Well sir, reports from some of the pilots mention that one of the squadrons became too eager after Lark's order for retreat and set a lightspeed course to the mothership."

"Why would the pilot go alone?"

"I was getting to that sir, but you interrupted me," JR responded harshly. "One of our pilots received a message from the pilot that ran off. He said that the pilot told him something about a distress signal of a neutral ship. Our pilot wanted to investigate and entered light speed before the order to retreat, the message was blocked out from the light speed and was never received. The ship signal appeared after light speed and got dangerously close to the Nebula. After a while the ship powered down and the pilot was supposedly captured."

"Which pilot was captured?"

"Right here sir," Rijard was handed a console and names of the Squad 11 pilots. They were all in blue except for one, beside the red letters was the current situation of the pilot. The situation read Captured.

"Wait here, rust-bucket, I'm going to inform the commander," Rijard said as he began for the exit of the hold, never taking his eyes off the screen.

Rijard ran down the hallways of the Golden Hull in search of Brek. He saw the brown fox marching on the metal floor and doubled his speed. "Commander Larks!" Rijard shouted.

Brek turned around to see his second in command running to him with a console in his hand. Rijard's voice seemed panicked which only made Brek worry. "Commander," Rijard said as he caught up with Brek, "I have some bad news. It seems one of our pilots never got the retreat order due to lightspeed interference. They went after the Nebula and never returned to the hold."

Rijard offered the console which Brek grabbed before the marten's arm was fully outstretched. The todd's eyes scanned through the list of names and stopped at the red letters. He read the name out loud "Vyrsa Rysk."

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

Vyrsa was being pushed and shoved down the rusty, smelly hallways of the Nebula by little Asteroid Hoppers. They each chittered in strange languages of their own, some spoke Vulpine only to order Vyrsa around – but in a weak attempt. They poked and jabbed at her with electro staffs in her legs whenever she slowed.

The little parade moved them along to an elevator system. One pushed a button and the doors flew open. They shoved her inside and another pressed a button for the prison level.

The ship seemed bad enough at first, but as the odors of the prison level reached her nostrils she had to think that this was the worst part of the Nebula. Cries of prisoners and filthy paws came from past the bars for each cell.

Vyrsa's furry guides led her to an empty cell, empty except for the rat skeleton inside. They pushed her in using only the electro staffs and shut the door behind her, almost crushing her tail. Beside her a rotting lizard lay in another cell, he was singing a terrible tune with the look of insanity on his face.

In the other cell were two other beasts pinned to a wall, one was a copper furred fox whose left paw was missing, the other was either a runt polar bear or albino panda.

The lizard made a comment on Vyrsa's looks, something that she looked "pweddy". Trying to avoid conversation with the lizard she tried to strike up a conversation with the fox.

"Wonderful host we have, aye?" she said sarcastically.


Jeshal the Ionclaw
When the new prisoner adjacent to his own cell addressed him, Jeshal opened one eye, having been playing dead to attract the guards.

"Aye," he replied, "yer can be sayin' that again, miss." The Ionclaw glanced the dark-furred vixen up and down. She was very young, arguably too young to be caught up in warfare. Then again, any beast was too young for it. Except when you reached the point past middle age... and then you were too old. War was generally not a good plan for anyone.

Jeshal attempted to stretch against his restraints to relieve the cramp he was getting in his arms before he spoke once again.

"I'll 'azard a guess that ye be with that there Imperium battleship? Yer did well ter avoid their guns. What purpose did they bring you in, thinks I?"


Padraig Kesey
The space outside the Hopper Mothership was littered with stellar debris. Burnt starship chaises and asteroid fragments drifted slowly, occasionally silently colliding. Only one sweep of the eyes was necessary to realize the power of the Asteroid Hopper force; the destroyed starships numbered in the hundreds, their forms ranging from fighters to bombers to even minor cruisers. Throughout all of this the Mothership remained unmarred by the flames of war.

A slight burst of energy on the outer fringe of the field indicated a completed lightspeed jump. From this tiny vortex a dull-grey dart flew, more rectangular than triangular in form. The starship, much larger than the short-distance fighters employed by the Galactic Imperium, maneuvered in wide sweeps through the asteroid field, skirting the debris in careful arcs that held a dark grace about them. Every move seemed to be deliberate, carefully timed, as if the pilot knew the exact combination of moves necessary to reach the imposing form of the Mothership. As the modified long-distance patrol vessel approached, the hangar doors of the Mothership began to slowly peel open, their jagged forms and fluorescent green interior creating an eerie sense of foreboding about the craft.

A few minutes later, an armored vulpine walked down the corridors of the Mothership with two h.a.r.e.s at his side. It might have been illusion, but even the h.a.r.e.s seemed to be moving cautiously around him, and for good reason. The vulpine wore a plate armor made from the melted exoskeleton of a Metallic Ore Lunar Extractor, one of the most durable Asteroid Hopper units, and had reinforced the joints with couplings from Metallic Ore Universal Separator Engines, creating a titanium-mix alloy of fearsome design. His head was shrouded by an asymmetrical helmet, the right face a smooth curve that flowed unbroken until it reached the left face. Once there it became eccentric, breaking into flowing spikes which twisted about without order. Those who knew enough about the bounty hunter could understand the statement his helmet made: Entropy, the tendency of all things to move toward chaos.

The hunter stopped before a cell door, silently gazing in. His twisted visor swept over the crazed lizard, a captured she-fox, and finally rested upon his prize: the cyborg smuggler commonly known around the underworld as The Ionclaw and his ursine companion.

The geometric gates of cell door slid into the wall, allowing the masked marten to step through. He cradled his Crossbow-grade rifle carefully, deliberately, as if awaiting any violent action. Slowly he approached the copper fox, his visor-masked gaze staring up at the target. Even without seeing his face it was easy to see the bounty hunter was sizing up the prey, attempting to gage his value.

Finally, he turned back to the h.a.r.e.s. "This'll do," he spoke, his accented voice surprisingly crisp thanks to his helmet speakers. "Ah'll take 'em both. Four hundred apiece." The h.a.r.e.s argued metallically, obviously not satisfied with the low price. The bounty hunter sighed, as if he had expected their obstinacy. "Fine, thirte'n hundred fer the lot o' them." The h.a.r.e.s paused at this, and conferred in quiet chirping. Finally they straightened, nodding mechanically.

"Splendid."

The hares straightened, emitting a humming radio pulse. The shackles holding the prisoners opened, allowing the two foxes and the bear to drop to the ground. The bounty hunter approached, his rifle trained on Jeshal.

"Captain Ionclaw," Padraig Kesey addressed the fox through his mask. "Yer comen' wit' meh. Yeh have some debts t' pay."


Jeshal the Ionclaw
Whatever answer the vixen had to offer Ionclaw was swiftly interrupted as a bounty hunter flanked by h.a.r.e. guards marched down the corridor and stopped outside their cells. Jeshal's eyes narrowed. He did not know the beast's name but he had seen the armoured marten in passing during the course of some of his seedier missions. He listened to Kesey haggle with the robot bunnies until at last the shackles at his wrists snapped open and deposited him on the floor.

Jeshal was on the verge of reaching for his gauntlet console when he caught sight of the rifle aiming at his gut. He grinned almost charmingly at the beast whose face he could not see and held up his paws.

"Captain Ionclaw, yer comen' wit' meh. Yeh have some debts t' pay."

"Then it be lucky ye're 'ere ter see me fetch the money that our mutual pal be owed," he replied. "I were just on me way ter finish off a deal with the Imperium Navy vessel o'er yonder but these 'oppers fancied the delight o' me company." The lies were slickly, beautifully delivered. It made the rough-edged fox look irritatingly handsome. Jeshal took a step towards the cell bars and smirked at the h.a.r.e.s. "Ye'd be lettin' 'im get away with a steal if yer think


Padraig Kesey
(Autos permitted)
Kesey's smirk could almost be detected through his helmet as the smuggler thought better of attempting to utilize his multipurpose gauntlet, carefully holding up his paws and grinning his innocence. Kesey kept an aged eye on the Ionclaw's namesake. He had been in the game long enough to learn about the legendary contraband trader's gauntlet and its many functions, and knew to be wary. As was said in the underworld, "When dealin' with a cyborg, keep both 'is paws where you can see 'em."

The Ionclaw took a few swaggering steps toward the h.a.r.e.s, smirking at their ignorance. Kesey could not help but similarly smirk at the fox's bruised pride. The Ionclaw's behaviour was commonly known amongst bounty hunters as Smuggler's Insecurity; smugglers had a habit of priding themselves on their criminal value and became rather ruffled when that varying worth was slighted. It was really quite amusing.

Taking advantage of the Ionclaw's momentary distraction Kesey pounced, pinning the fox against the barred door. Above the fox's protests he quickly drew out a set of metallic binders, slapping the metal and vulpine paws together. Dooey roared, advancing on the masked figure who was threatening his partner, but staggered slightly as Kesey sent a high-energy stun wave in his direction. It barely seemed to faze the bear, large even as a runt, forcing Kesey to instead turn the rifle upon Jeshal. "Back oof," he threatened, "or Ah'll be collecten' on the 'dead' bounteh." Rumbling quietly, Dooey carefully stalked a few feet away, keeping his mistrusting gaze on the bounty hunter.

Kesey sighed. This was getting harder every year. The targets became slier and more elusive, and the bounty hunters became inexorably more 'past it'. Though Kesey would not admit it to anybeast, he was already well feeling the effects of his age; his joints were riddled with prosthetics, and they still gave him trouble. At 52 he was swiftly approaching either retirement or death in the field, and Kesey was having great trouble deciding which he would prefer.

Leaving the Ionclaw to himself, Kesey examined the vixen fox on the floor. He seemed to ponder her a moment, as if wondering what the extra chip in the discount deal would fetch him. Eventually he fetched out another set of binders, jerking her paws roughly behind her and clamping them together. "Mebbeh ye'll be a good dancer," he mused, hauling her to her footpaws and shoving her toward Jeshal. Leveling his rifle at the pair, Kesey nodded his head at Dooey. "Wit' 'em, runt." There was a note of warning in his voice.

Glancing toward the cell door, Kesey's gaze lingered on Jeshal. "Dunnae try anythen', Ionclaw," the headhunter threatened. "Go righ' down the hall, straigh' t' the hangar en' inta mah ship. En' remember," he tapped the flat side of his visor, "Ah'm watchen' ye."

With a hiss the barred door slid open. Kesey gestured once with his rifle for them to move before falling in behind them.


Vyrsa Rysk
The masked bounty hunter knelt down in front of Vyrsa staring past the helmet visor while trapping her paws in binders. "Mebbeh ye'll be a good dancer." Vyrsa took it as an insult, but before she could respond he turned to the albino panda.

The conversation between the two traders were out of mind, escape was her goal. She looked across the jail cell, and remembered every detail about the ship she saw before the prison level.

The bounty hunter ended the orders gesturing them to follow. Vyrsa got to her feet while being guarded by h.a.r.e.s holding her by the binders and pushing her from behind. "You will never get away with this," she shouted behind the vulpine. "I am an Imperial pilot, they'll be looking for me all over the galaxies! And when they find me then you will be punished unless you don't let me go right now!"


Jeshal the Ionclaw
Jeshal let out a hiss of pain as he was slammed against the door, binders clamping his paws together uselessly. He watched Dooey leap to his defence and saw the bear stagger back under the assault of a stun blast. Dooey made as though to leap at the bounty hunter once again but the Ionclaw found the barrel of a rifle in line with his nose. Dooey backed off.

"Easy, Dooey," Jeshal whispered when Kesey's attention had averted to Vyrsa. "'E's just a lackey in a tin can. There'll come a time when we can open 'im up an' see whether 'e's really gone rotten, but bide yer time, says I."

"Snnrrghh," the bear snuffled, reluctantly.

Within moments, the vixen was forced to her feet and pushed in Jeshal's direction. Dooey was also instructed to fall in line. The Ionclaw merely sneered at Kesey's warnings.

"You will never get away with this," the young vixen snarled. "I am an Imperial pilot, they'll be looking for me all over the galaxies! And when they find me then you will be punished unless you don't let me go right now!"

Jeshal winced at the sheer defiance in her voice. "Yer'll 'ave to 'ope that Navy o' yours 'as nigh on infinite reserves. This bigwig 'as planets in places we can' even pronounce let alone know of their existence. Still, one o' these days I'll get meself a nice fancy belt... an' it'll be made out o' yore tail! Hahar!" He nodded at Kesey before he was shoved out of the cell. Bitterly, the prisoners were marched on their way to the bounty hunter's ship.


Brek Larks
Commander Larks walked into the bridge command room. D-13 was following close behind with the pilot's report. The room was filled with beasts with their paws working and shouting to each other to inform the rest of the bridge crew about current situations. Brek ignored them, of course all the problems on the Hull needed to be taken care of, but a pilot was captured and needed support.

The two vulpines stopped about five feet from the captain's command station. "Captain Freedom," Brek announced. "I need to speak with you about the issue about our fighter's retreat."


Tanya Rainblade-Ryalor
"That can wait, Brekkie – I think you'll be going back soon enough at this rate."

Again, the face of the Chief Engineer (albeit a little more singed-looking this time) flickered on the comm screen, the bright green of her eyes dimmed by the unnerving size of her expanded pupils, the result of working in the low light conditions. Blinking, she tapped a few buttons on a panel to her left and frowned at the diagnostic as she explained.

"Captain, I've run a few calculations: we could probably sustain a short-term leap, but I wouldn't fancy us standing much chance of another afterwards. This thing's pressurised like nobeast's business and all the vessels are struggling – pipes supplying the place with coolants are starting to fail and we'll be burned out of this deck long before the thing actually blows. It needs a full shut down to cool off before we can even get close enough to figure out what's causing it, which means either docking or taking a risk of being sitting ducks. I've had them try to r-"

A thunderous hissing and low pop echoed in the room before a resonating 'whoooorp' made the Chief engineer jump as a flash of virulent blue sparked behind. Whirling around, the fox barked at the shadows behind her "-I said the left core, master Sifal, the left!" She turned back, muttering.

"Good 'Gates you'd think an engineer would know better... Anyway, I think they have something pretty nifty over on the Nebula that's messing with the Warp Core-we'd do well to find out before this thing goes kablooie, or run a full retreat and hope they don't capitalise on the shutdown."


Brek Larks
"No! We can't shut down!" Brek shouted trying to keep the captain from giving the order. "Sir, I was going to tell you this but Tox interrupted me. During the battle one of our pilots never received the retreat order and is now captured by the enemy. I need to set up a rescue team to head over to the Nebula and retrieve the pilot.

"We need to get over there before shutdown. If we go to power down then the bay shields will deactivate and shut the doors. Just give us enough time to get over to the Nebula, retrieve our pilot and head back. I'll even set up a rendezvous point if you need to power down before we get back," Brek breathed deeply. "Sir, it is my duty to make sure every fighter gets back safely. And as long as that pilot is out there, my duty is incomplete."


Anithias Freedom/Padraig Kesey
Anithias' brow furrowed deeply at the confusion of the bridge. From the outside he would seem to be ignoring both Commander Larks and Chief Engineer Toxxy, allowing their valid arguments to slide past his gaze. Still, the crew knew the captain well enough to discern that he had simply stepped back from the conversation, viewing it no longer as the central focus but as a spectator. It was an old captain's trick for removing oneself from the problem, allowing a more equal, justified decision-making process.

Silence reigned after the young Commander finished his plea. The captain did not move, his thumb and pointer pawfinger still cupping his chin as he rested on his elbow. Tension hovered in the air as the bridge crew awaited his decision – to save the Hull, or save his captured pilot?

Finally the captain straightened, his gaze locked straight ahead. "There may be time to save both. Commander Larks, assemble a volunteer complement for a retrieval operation. Those pilots who choose not to volunteer, send to guard the Hull. Toxxy," the captain's eyes locked on the pixelized image before him, "I want you to shut down the Core the moment Larks' complement exits the hangar. Take whatever time and supplies you deem necessary – we do not want to rush the repairs.

"Cadet Kirk," Captain Freedom called to the newest bridge crew member. "I want you to divert communications, both internal and external, to auxiliary power. I want to maintain constant contact with both engineering and the away squadron. Understood?

"And Ensign Urel..." The large foreign fox twisted in his chair, his crisp Alnerian uniform moving stiffly. The captain considered him for a moment before deciding, "Lose the mustache." The fox nodded, slightly regretfully fingering the Imperial mustache he had so carefully cultivated.

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

Kesey smiled maliciously beneath his helmet as the soon-to-be dancing slave vigorously protested her capture, proclaiming her enlistment in the Galactic Imperium Navy. He chuckled slightly at her foolish belief that the Imperium could save her. The Imperium carved its way through only a fraction of the galaxy. A good portion of the galaxy was controlled by the Asteroid Hoppers, not to mention the Alkamarian Sector and the powerful Vojna Holod Union. In amongst these warring factions the crime lords weaved their silky webs, tying the paws of the powermongers without their even realizing it. Beasts disappeared on a regular basis, feeding the growing slave trade. The Imperium would be lucky if they could ever discover which system Vyrsa had disappeared to.

The hunter's smile widened as the smuggler explained as much to the vixen, throwing in a laughable threat to his captor. He merely prodded the cyborg along, leading them further away from any hope of freedom. Thankfully they seemed to be offering little resistance, apparently sensing the futility of their situation. Kesey felt a welling of satisfaction within him. He did not care what became of them, though he could easily guess. The smuggler and his ursine companion would suffer whatever agonies Kesey's employer felt would befit whatever slight the Ionclaw had made to the crime lord. The vixen would become the debauched boss's newest slave femme, serving him in a variety of ways. Perhaps twenty-five years ago he might have felt some guilt concerning her fate, but he had passed the point of caring for such trivialities long ago.

Abruptly the dark, irregular passage opened into a wide area stretching for nearly a half-mile, ending in a shimmering forcefield separating the hangar from the vacuum of space. High overhead dark pipes and tubes twisted in bizarre symmetry, concealing the shadowy ceiling from view. Seeming almost insignificant compared to the room around it the large wedge-like form of the Mercury Cap'n rested in the center, its ramp extending to the dull black floor. Kesey prodded his captives forward, guiding them from the rear across the open area.

The inside of the Mercury was much like the outside – a dull rust red, purely angular in form. The rearmost section was simply two recessed sitting areas only a few feet across from each other, allowing spartan comfort for the passengers. Kesey swiftly pushed past the prisoners, disappearing through the forward passage as the ramp sealed behind them. A dull thud indicated they were truly trapped, as did the glittering forcefield which shimmered into life across the passage door. The mercenary had taken no chances with his prey.

Abruptly the compartment began to vibrate, a whine growing as the engines ignited. With a heart-shaking tremor (Kesey obviously did not put much thought into his victims' comfort) the ship rose shakily from the ground, hovering before suddenly rocketing from the hangar. The prisoners were thrown about as the ship made a rough exit through the asteroid belt, putting slightly less care into its exit as it did its entrance. Gradually it began to slow, leveling out onto a steady course. For a moment the passengers could breathe.

And then they went to warp speed.

There was a stomach-turning moment as the ship abruptly accelerated past the speed of light, throwing all molecules toward the spectrum of energy. Just as abruptly the sensation stopped as the matter realized that it did not need to compress itself; rather the universe was compressing itself around the ship. A journey which would have taken millions of years otherwise was now a simple half-hour jaunt.

A thump came from the passage ahead, then the rhythm of heavy pawsteps. Light fell on a smirking face as Kesey stopped just short of the energy field, his now helmetless gaze drifting over his prizes. "Weh'll be at th' Palace en 'alf an hour," he reported lazily. His eyes lingered on Jeshal, one eyelid half-closed leisurely. "Ye'd best hope yer boss be en a good mood, Ionclaw. Lord Anoitos dunnae like t' be skimped on, aft'h all."



Brek Larks/Rijard M. Chaos
"Yes sir! I'll get a team on the double sir!" After a salute Brek turned and exited the bridge. He broke into a trot as he ran back down to the hangar bay.

Upon his arrival the young commander walked to the bay command station. "Excuse me I have to make an announcement," he told a communications droid at the station. The droid wheeled away from the command board and let Larks by. The entire hangar was crowded and noisy with droids and beasts alike trying to make repairs for each of their ships. The todd grabbed a comm connected to the bay's PA. "Attention all pilots," Brek's voice boomed over the hangar as it went silent. "A pilot has been captured by the enemy vessel and immediate action is needed. I have been given permission to pull together a team of volunteers in a rescue mission. All beasts who want to join in this mission report to me in five minutes in front of the command station for a debrief. Everyone else is to take their fighters once again and do whatever you can to fight off enemy fighters. Get to it!"

The bridge went loud once again as chaos broke. Beasts scrambled to get repairs done before they went back to space again, some even were appearing to the command station, while others were already preparing to exit the ship.

"Master Larks! Master Larks!" JRME's metallic body wobbled through the pushing beasts. "Master Larks, I just heard you were going on a rescue mission. Is this really necessary? After all, she is just one pilot."

"Not just one pilot, she is one of my pilots." Brek stomped off to face the assembling pilots for the mission.

"Oh dear," the cat-droid moaned as he followed his master.

"Pilots, thank you for volunteering for this mission," Brek counted the beasts in front of him. About twenty-five stood before him. "We are going to do a basic invasion on their ship. Get in, rescue our pilot, get out. We are to do nothing else, you find the engines, do you think you should blow them up?" Some of the rescue party cheered and others shouted agreements. "No! We do not have permission for that, neither a big enough party.

"We will take three shuttles, V-Irus models. They will engage the Nebula's hangar and we will exit them and head for the prison level." Brek took out a holocron system from his belt and turned it on, an image of the Nebula appeared above his paws while turning slowly in front of the team. A red dot from the hangar started a trail and made a route from there to the prison level. "We start here at the prison level and head down this hallway. We enter these elevators here and go down to the prison level. Once there, we will hack into the prison computers and try to find where our pilot is. We retrace our steps back to the hangar and head back to the Hull. Any questions?"

One beast raised his paw slowly, Brek nodded at him to speak. "Sir, what if we can't even hack into the prison computers?"

"Then we will have the crew to help us. Any more questions?" After none of his team spoke he ordered them into their shuttles after being equipped with proper snout to snout combat.

Brek stood by his own shuttle as his and the other two were being filled with volunteers. As the last beasts entered the shuttles Brek started up the ramp. "Larks!" Brek turned around half way up the ramp. Rijard came running, already wearing his combat equipment including his pistol blaster and a beam sword he found somewhere. "Mind if I come along too commander?"

Brek gave a small grin at his pilot "Sure, we could use somebeast as good as you with a blaster. Get in, we'll be leaving soon."

"Thank you commander," Rijard said as he climbed aboard the shuttle. Brek strapped his A.X.E to the back of his belt and climbed inside.

The silent hum of engines starting sounded inside the hangar as the three shuttles hovered above the bay floor. One by one the three ships turned a slowly floated out of the hangar.

After they all got into space Larks sat down in the captain's chair, his droid JRME was already sitting in the chair opposite to him at the flight controls. "Jay-Ar, prepare the shuttle for light speed. Hang on back there," he called to the small portion of his team as they each strapped themselves in.

"Oh dear," JRME said as he pressed the buttons activating the light speed. Stars melted across the screen window as they jumped through space toward the site of the Nebula.


Xhavek Mokorai/Willhelm Wanderpaw
Xhavek Mokorai began to clap his claws together singing a wordless song. What could one expect of a beast who had been imprisoned for so long? After nearly seven years of being transferred from one Hopper ship prison to another he had thoroughly given up on ever being freed. There had been some recent activity in this particular ship but he had been having one of his 'moments' so hadn't been fully aware of what the hullabaloo was about. It was pathetic his state, at one time he had been one of the most respected infantry commanders in the Space Navy and now he was barely more than a shell.

His adamantium claw nails clicked together as he clapped, those deadly implements which had torn more Hopper units apart in claw-to-claw combat than any other active soldier. His cybernetic body enhancements had long since fallen into disrepair and his once cold blue eyes were now dulled. However, the occasional spark of his old battle frenzy rose up to frighten his guards. Little did the unfortunate lizard know that a one time member of his infamous Death Squad was coming to the same ship he was being held in.

********************************************************

Willhelm "Willowisp" Wanderpaw adjusted his safety belt as they sped through space. He had been one of the first to volunteer for the rescue operation. While originally he had been a primarily ground and ship deck fighter he had since learned how to be a pilot. Ever since the Death Squad had been disbanded that is. Now those had been the days. He, Conall Nederaz, Glimmer Dirgefinn, and Xhavek Mokorai had been the Golden Hull's best infantry squad in its long history. While many modern ships no longer used on-ship soldiers instead of having fight ready pilots, the Golden Hull had kept on using ground units but had also added soldier pilots. Will had been his paticular unit's small arms specialist rarely using anything larger than a customized AXE blaster he called the Shredder.

He still carried the old thing but he no longer acted as a solely ground fighter. The loss of his blood brother and commanding officer had been too much for the team. For five years after all three of them had jumped at any possible info of the reptile's whereabouts but they had given up. There was no hope of every finding their beloved war nut.


Brek Larks
"Ready yourselves boys," Brek yelled over the comm to all three ships. They had just come out of hyperspace just a few moments away from the Nebula.

The shuttles started to fly close to the Hopper ship, and did a mid-space flip, leaving their back ends to the surface of the rusty hull. From around the door to the back of the shuttles drills started to pierce the hull. The sound of metal scraping against metal was deafening for both the Hoppers and Hull beasts. Brek looked back at his hand full of soldier. "Helmets on!"

As they placed their helmets and stood up with weapons ready a red light glowed throughout the cabin. A good time after they were prepared to board the drills stopped. A green light glowed and the back hatch door open with a hiss. The beasts ran from the shuttles right into the Nebula. Some woodlanders lay on the floor dead from the vacuum of space entering their recycled-oxygen filled ship. The doors from the room they had entered were sealed.

"Everyone except Herman, Vazel, and Dray go with me. You three watch the ships. Every one get away from the wall, and get a shield up to block the vacuum. We want as many alive to get our prisoner!"

Two rat soldiers ran to the holes they had entered and started to hook tiny shield generators to the wall. With a click of a button the shield activated. A bomb squad ran to the sealed door and set up charges. A quick explosion and the door left a huge gap in its center.

Immediately after the door was gone laser bolts flew in and out of the small room. One beast from the Hull pulled out a grenade and threw it through the hole, sounds of explosions and dead Hoppers came from the other side. "Go," Brek ordered as he shoved beasts through the hole.

They ran along the hallways to the active elevator. They ran into no more Hoppers as the headed to the elevator, just the occasional droid. Were they that small that they only had a few soldiers, or were they somewhere else? Once they arrived Brek pressed the button to prison level. As a screen showed where each elevator was laser blasts flew by them as another group of Hoppers arrived.

A few of each team of creatures died or were injured by the time the elevator shaft opened, and Brek left without a scratch. The soldiers filed in the tiny compartments that were meant for smaller creatures. The doors closed and the elevators dropped down to the prison level.

As soon as the doors opened Brek found where all the Hoppers had gotten to. They were met by an army of angry Hoppers ready to kill the invaders. But they were no match for the Hull beasts, a few grenades and blaster bolts did the trick and before you knew it they were done. They made their way to the prison cells, and it seemed they had taken care of every beast on the ship.

"Wanderpaw, make sure no enters the cell area," Brek called as the Hull beasts entered and one by one fired at the last of the guards. "Jay-ar, get to that terminal and find where she is."

"Yes sir," the droid waddled to the terminal. "Sir! She is in cell 352!"

"You heard the bucket of bolts, cell 352!" Brek lead a group to the cell, but it was empty. "Jay-ar, cell 352?"

"Yes sir."

"They're gone. They must have moved her. You," Brek pointed his blaster at a lizard in the cell beside their targets' "where did they go?"


Xhavek Mokorai
Xhavek Mokorai was more than startled when he came out of his delirious state to find a beast he had never seen before yelling at him about somebeast going somewhere. Who was this guy and did he have any meat to spare? His arms looked particularly delicious. And as Xhavek's eyes traveled up said arm he saw a familiar patch on the shirt over it. What was it about that little design that intrigued the short lizard so? Then like a flash of lightning Xhavek understood.

This beast was a commander of Golden Hull pilot squad! This clarity extended and permeated his whole being. Xhavek stood, the previously unidentifiable rags proving to be the tattered remains of his field uniform, the Death Squad's skull on the shirt's chest the only truly clean part of him. "I am Xhavek Mokorai commanding offizer of ze Golden Hull Death Zquad. Commander ze information you require iz located in mine neural implantz. Unfortunately zey have to compenzate for a fractured zanity and zerefore I can no longer accezz it freely. You vill need to take me back to ze Golden in order to get vhat you vant." For a few seconds more the short monitor stood, dignity in rags and then crumbled to the floor intently examining Brek's boots as if they were the key to all the answers of the universe.


Brek Larks
Brek's eyes widened as he stared at the badge of the Golden Hull's most legendary squad. The Death Squad had set some of the highest records in complete missions in the Imperium! But they had been discharged after their commander Mokorai disappeared, and here he was in front of him!

"I am Xhavek Mokorai commanding offizer of ze Golden Hull Death Zquad. Commander ze information you require iz located in mine neural implantz. Unfortunately zey have to compenzate for a fractured zanity and zerefore I can no longer accezz it freely. You vill need to take me back to ze Golden in order to get vhat you vant."

Apparently the lizard wasn't going to make this easy. "Alright Mokorai, we'll take you back to the Golden Hull on Bully Station. As long as you keep your word." Brek turned to one of his soldiers. "You, get some shackles on this one!"

Brek's gaze returned to Mokorai. "I'm sorry we have to do this, but since I have no way to... trust... you, you'll be considered a prisoner until we return to the Hull. After all, you've been gone so long you might not even be Mokorai, how do we know you didn't steal his uniform?" Brek asked as the soldier placed the shackles around the scaled wrists.


Xhavek Mokorai/Wisp Wanderpaw
Xhavek of course complied with the polite request. However he didn't do so because he consciously agreed with the request, in fact he had no clue what was going on for once more his fragile mind had found one particular detail that fascinated it and stuck with that above all others. And that detail was his blood brother and fellow squad member Willhelm 'Willowisp' Wanderpaw.

".....Vizp...?" Xhavek's claws extended pleadingly almost as tears filled his normally cold and feral eyes. He stumbled forward his mind whirling with memories, both good and bad. "Mine little brother."

For Wisp's part he was thunderstruck. For the very first time since he joined the Death Squad his renowned Shredder handgun dropped from his paws. "Xhav? How? When? XHAV!" The slight rat dashed forward and gripped his long-lost commander and blood brother like he'd die before letting him go. "We thought you were dead! Why? Why didn't you let us stay and help you? Why did you make us abandon you?"

Both wept pitifully and for all this was a stunning moment, for not in a single story had anybeast ever heard of a member of the infamous Death squad cry.


Brek Larks/Rijard M. Chaos
Disgust came over the todd's face. He expected a little more "toughness" from two legendary star fighters. He knew what it meant to miss siblings, after all he had twelve back home, but these two weren’t even the same species. Nevertheless he made a mental note to keep these two separated until they returned to the Hull.

Brek rolled his eyes then checked his comm, "Vazel, come in."

Static silently hissed then a response, "Vazel here sir."

"Have our ships ready to leave in about twenty minutes. We have one extra passenger and a few injured. Preset your navcomputers for Bully Station. Larks out." Brek turned his comm off then turned to the "brothers". "Alright, reunion's over. I want two of you taking the prisoner. Wisp, I want you covering the back, I'm taking the front. We're going straight to our shuttles then heading for Bully Station."

Brek turned on his heel with his back to the troops. "Let’s go!" They headed off to where the shuttles were hooked onto the hull. No guards stopped them, as if they had finished all of them off.

They turned down the final hall and were met by a patrol unit of about five H.A.R.E.s. The team halted, Brek glanced back at them. "Get to the shuttles! I'll take care of these guys!" he shouted then charged the guards as they fired their own weapons.

Seeing Brek as a mad beast they stopped and ran around the corner at the end of the hallway. Brek kept shouting as he chased them. As he rounded the corner almost a hundred hoppers all sat in some kind of weapon closet. Brek quickly stopped himself and sprinted back to his team as the hoppers started firing at him.

As the commander came back around the corner he shouted to the remainder of his team still making their way through the hole in the door. "Hurry! Get in there now!”

Brek continued running as the team responded. He dropped a thermal detonator and set the time. Then he moved away from it and kneeled down aiming for the direction that the guards would appear. As the small soldiers came into view Brek aimed the detonator, he fired one shot and set the bomb off.

Dust clouds filled the area separating Brek's vision from the guards, but that didn't stop them from firing. Getting to his feet Brek ran down to the hole but was cut off when a giant plate of metal fell in front and behind him.

Blast doors Brek thought, one of the crewmembers must have activated them to limit his movements. "Vazel, if everyone is on the shuttles then get out of here, I'll meet you on Bully Station," he said on the comm.

Rijard's voice went through the comm. "Brek we're not going to leave you here. “I'll come and get you out of there and-"

"No time for that Rijard, besides, they got the place on lockdown. I promise I'll meet you back with the Hull. Larks out." He turned off the comm and scanned the area he was trapped in. He found an air vent and blasted it with his A.X.E, crawling through the hole he began his escape.

Moments later he found himself in the Nebula's hangar. He snuck around between boxes and ships looking for one he could pilot. The place was crawling with hoppers, busy working on damage costs from the attack on the Hull.

Brek came to one ship he found to his liking, a W-18 fighter. He hid behind the ship and scanned around the hangar looking for a way to cause a distraction. As he sat hiding he felt cold metal touching his shoulders. The todd spun around and had his blaster ready to destroy his attacker. Before him was a black droid with his paws up in defense. "Jay-ar? What are you doing here?"

"Well, sir, when you ran down that hallway I knew you were headed for a heavy populated area and I knew you would be in trouble."

"Why didn't you tell me that before?!"

"Well, you did seem to be very set in mind about your plan. But to be safe I left the group and found a terminal of the ship's architecture and found out that not only had you been trapped but your only escape would have been that air vent. I figured you would go to the hangar and try to steal a ship of your own."

"And why exactly did you come here?"

"Because I didn't want to see you stuck on this ship full of hoppers, they speak many different languages and you wouldn’t want to be left without a translator now would you?"

"Guess not," Brek said thoughtfully. "Well we're taking this one. It should have two seats for us so we can get out of here."

"Right sir, shall we board?"

"I guess so, climb up but be quiet about it." The droid climbed up and opened the cockpit and took the back seat, Brek followed and sat in the pilot's seat in front. "Now how about you say we cause a little diversion?"

"I suppose if you think necessary, sir."

Chuckling silently Brek started the main engines and set them to hover above the hangar floor. Blasts erupted from the fighter as the commander shot them through the hangar to sabotage the security systems. Small weapons fire shot up at the fighter but Brek had already activated the shields.

The fighter manuvered through the hangar and then shot through the blast shield. Out in space again Brek set a course for Bully Station on the navcomputer and a loading sign came up. While waiting he made sure the ship was headed in the right direction to avoid wasting time later with the auto pilot.

Then the Nebula's cannon batteries and fighters began chasing and shooting at the stolen ship. Brek cursed under his breath and started forward trying to get away from the ship as fast as he could before any fighters caught up. The navcomputer finally beep and flashed indicating the course was finally set. Brek pushed the controls to send the ship into hyperspace just as the fighters caught up with Brek.

In a short time he would end up at the nearest space port. He would make repairs for this fighter so it could travel the rest of the way to Bully Station.

​