[justify]Packets of digital information carried themselves effortlessly through the void of space. When an entire craft used such transmissions for communication — and none of them were organic — it meant that a craft could run without a lot of systems. Life support, atmospherics, hydrodynamics. All of this meant that there was a crew boarding a craft which was for all intense and purposes dead.

“Captain,” the WiFi chattered.

“Aye?” Rusted and dilapidated joints flexed to drum fingers, a facsimile of a man sat upon a sun-bleached chair that swivelled to look at its target. A scrap-parrot cocked its head to look at their ‘guest’, one of the myriad crew of the ship known as the ‘Sailing’); DROP TABLE Ships’.

“There’s been some chattering on the waves,” the crewman spoke through digital transmissions. “I think we have our next target.”

“Where’s it to?”

“Take a listen—” The crewman brought forth a PDA from the pockets of his stereotypical pirate’s attire. Metal fingers passed it across to the captain, who picked it up and flicked through the records to take note. [b]Bounty[/b] and [b]booty[/b], all in one convenient asteroid. The Captain would have smiled, were his eyes not red lenses and his mouth not a metallic grill.

The Captain finally rose from his chair, striding forth towards his crew of robot pirates who milled away at odds and ends while they floated in the depths of space. “Anchors aweigh and all hands hoy, me hearties!” The crew buzzed to life, radio chatter flaring active as The Captain strode down the ‘deck’, gazing through a hole into the inky blackness.

“Boot up the old hyperdive and set course for Asteria, lads.” The Captain turned away, picking out his favourite tricorn and gathering his laser pistol and cutlass. His crew worked in kind, several of them grabbing gauss muskets and their own technologically advanced melee weapons. The radiation levels spiked as the fusion reactor booted to full capacity, a death sentence for any organic, a perfect cover for this crew.

“We’ve got work to do.”

[hr]

Some time later and the ramshackle corpse of a ship floated within a lagrange point, masking its presence via shutting off all systems and drifting as a lifeless derelict. Heat signatures were minimal, and radio chatter did not extend beyond the ship’s reaches.

The chunk that broke off from the main ship could have been misconstrued as just another piece of scrap, at least until it changed its yaw and started to gently accelerate towards the distant and well defended asteroid. A crew of five, hustled in this minute craft as it slowly drifted towards the home of the Amazons.

“Try and not cause a ruckus, least until things kick off.” The crew and their gracious leader, [b]Captain Metallo[/b], swivelled their ship and prepared a series of minor retrograde burns. They had to  prepare for landing as quietly as possible. A straight up firefight would’ve been suicide, but pirates were not known for playing by the rules.[/justify]