Sayeed coughed violently blood splattering the inside of her helmet with an opaque mist. Unlike the outside there was no static charge to keep dust and corruption from smearing the inside of visor. A groan escaped her lips and she made an awkward grab for an olive tab on the side of her armor. Weakness and pain spoiled the attempt but Neil took the hint and pulled the tab down firmly. THere was a barely audible hiss as integral injectors stabbed into Junebug’s body, flooding her system with analgesics and trama cocktails.

“Fucking amatuers,” Junebug weased and then went limp. The steady rise and fall of her chest proved she was still alive, but even with the force of the blast and the fall distributed by her armor she was in a bad way. Her combat pants were blackened and scored and stained with blood from a dozen minor injuries and the amor itself had new pits and scrapes to add to its battered testament to a life spend in violence and danger.

“Junebug?” the radio crackled in Taya’s voice. The girls panic of minutes before had been replaced with the sort of terror that overtakes people who are far outside their depth.

“Junebug, I have a Terran ship closing on me, its locking… Lony says that… may not…” the transmission trailed to static as high powered jamming flooded the circuit, leaving Neil alone with the critically injured captain.
@POOHEAD189

A fucking Imperial ship!? Neil thought, more confused than afraid. They either came covertly or with a massive fleet because this area of the galaxy was far too chaotic for Imperial control. He couldn't fathom why they would show up, particularly now while they were on planet. "Fuck," he cursed, and he gently draped Junebug's arm over his shoulder and lifted her up as gingerly as he could, though she nearly blacked out from the pain.

Using his left arm to pull his and Junebug's body weight up into the mech, he set her down in the seat slowly. "I'm getting a raise for this, aren't I?" he asked her, though he didn't expect a response. It would be a tight squeeze in the mech, so he decided he would stand in the cockpit, hoping not to bump into her as he closed the cockpit and got the MH-350 moving. The machine whirred to life, standing upright and stalking down the alleyway. As he walked, he unholstered the weapons now that he had a breather.

Down three various roads, moving as covertly as he could, they made it to Nicias. Turning the corner, he wasn't sure if he was happy or distraught he saw both Saxon and Sven in the rusted slum. Nicias had once been a thriving side market, but it had been left in disarray the last few years after one of the larger gang wars had torn the area to shreds. Neil opened the cockpit and lowered the mech, stepping out of it.

"We have a problem." Neil replied.

Saxon growled, while Sven gazed at Neil as coldly as ever. "What?" Sven asked.

"The Imperial Terrans might be in system and our ship might have been taken or destroyed." He closed his eyes after relaying the news, not wanting to deal with their threatening and displeased gazes. Junebug would be able to see and hear everything they were discussing through the open cockpit. Sven was currently calculating the probability of such news and Saxon was weighing his next options, poised to move at a moment's notice.

"And the Aestomibium?" Sven inquired, holding the hilt of his weapon. Neil held his hands up, smiling. "I got it. I got it. Let me grab it from the mech." He turned around and went to check on Junebug while he got the treasure out to distribute.
@Penny

Junebug lolled in semi-conciousness. Although the cocktail of drugs her armor’s trauma pack had delivered meant that she wasn’t in pain per se, the disruptive pharmacologics meant that her experience was fragmentery at best. She had a confused impression of Neil talking to a giant lizard and to another man she felt she should have known, but that seemed less important than whether or not she had reloaded her plasma rifle. The Colonel would tear a strip off her hide if she didn’t lead by example with a fully loaded weapon. Motivated by this abstract impulse she tried to move her arms only to discover that neither of them seemed to cooperate.

It was the trauma pack. She must have been hit. That didn’t seem important, though she really should ask Munroe to show her how to cut the basic trauma cocktail with combat drugs. Better to go out swinging anyway.

“What was that Captain?” Neil asked, his face almost comically concerned hung a few feet away from her, free from any context. Had she spoken aloud. Where was she?

“Careful,” she wheezed and closed her eyes shut as waves of dizzying nausea swept over her. She wanted to tell him not to trust the lizard man, and also ask what the lizard mans name was and what he was doing here, but the thoughts and words swirled together in the chemically induced haze that lay over her mind. If she didn’t get to a medicomp or a doctor shortly the trauma meds would give out. Unfortunately that was as impossible to communicate to Neil in her present state as astrographic mathematics would have been.

“How did you get us into this again…” she murmured before blackness swallowed her.

Taya hauled furiously at the controls, but no matter how much she struggled the Highlander didn’t deviate from its course. Tears of frustration burned in her eyes, Junebug and Neil were depending on her and she didn’t know what to do.

“Aye thars nay yise tearin the control yoke oof,” Loney advised in his irritating brogue.

“What else can I do!” Taya shouted, the Terran Cruiser had come out of the shadow of the gas giant as they lifted. The massive capital ship was half a kilometer long and bristling with weaponry. Reinforced black hull plating made it a shadow against the stars though its electronic signature screamed at any vessel large enough to mount a sensor suite.

“Are the vessels from the planet still closing?” Taya asked looking down at the attack board. As if summoned by her words four lances of brilliant white blue energy erupted from the cruiser. At the end of each beam an explosion blossomed as the fleet grade weapons tore Gnorlac hired gunships into thinly dispersed ion sheets.

“Thatd be a no lassie,” Lonney stated without inflection. The notion that such a beam could have ended the Highlander was as plain as it was chilling. For whatever reason the Terran’s had locked her with a graviton beam rather than a targeting array. Lesson learned Taya let go of the controls and let the Highlander fall completely under the sway of the big ship. THere was no point in tearing the freighter to bits trying to get out of a beam that could have moved a good sized asteroid with ease. A slit opened in the side of the cruiser and the Highlander, like a piece of krill in some ancient ocean, was drawn into the things maw.

"Sayeeda!" Neil exclaimed as she faded into unconsciousness once more, shaking her as hard as he dared. He closed his eyes and sighed when she wouldn't move. At least she was alive. He tried to get Taya on the Comms again, but all there was, was static. He tried patching in to Lonney, though predictably that led nowhere either. He had no idea what to do. And he wondered why he cared, other than basic altruism. He'd had to escape tricky situations before, and he'd helped those he could and those he couldn't well...he couldn't. But he'd been through too much of this shit with these girls to give up now.

"That and you got a goddamn teenage crush on this chick." He muttered, not knowing if he was being brutally honest with himself about Sayeeda or just goading himself to running.

He'd stay.

"Why are you two still here?" Neil asked Sven and Saxon. "Having second thoughts on the treasure? I can keep your share if you're afraid of rampant greed."

Neither of them were the joking type, and Neil did not receive any banter back, or even disapproving looks like he would elsewhere. Sven seemed too busy with a portable device of his, made of old metal he had no doubt scrapped from items on and offworld. Saxon was reaching into his utility belt, pulling out a small vial and uncorking it. A small hiss escaped the bottle, and he approached Neil. "I still wish for your death. But this place wishes the same for me, and you will not move until this woman is helped. Give her this." He said.

The pilot looked at the container. Of course there would be no label. "What will this do?"

"Minor healing liquid. You would not be able to pronounce its name, but it will relieve pain and relax the muscles for swifter healing." he rumbled, shoving it into Neil's hands so hard it would have been considered a punch to anyone save a Hexanagallion. Neil grunted, coughed, and patted the Alien's forearm before heading over to the Captain and pulling her head back slightly. "Alright, you'll need to swallow a bit. Just..."

After two tries, he managed to get most of the liquid down her throat, and tossed the bottle back to Saxon. He caught it in a jerking motion, like a monitor lizard would jerk its head when tearing apart prey. Suddenly to the side, Sven's device beeped aloud. He unhooked the plug that Neil suddenly realized had been inserted into Sven's temple, hidden behind his long hair. The man cleared his throat, and spoke in his gravely, emotionless voice. "There is a shipping yard not too far from here, 12 miles to the southeast. There is a beacon tower within."

"We can contact my ship?" Neil asked.

"Or steal one there. Yes." Sven replied. "We should remain together until we are offworld. We are still being hunted."

"GodDAMN I love your bedside manner, let's get to it!" Neil exclaimed, hopping into the mech.
@Penny

The shipping yard was a large square of ferocrete, ringed in razor wire. A half dozen freighters stood in various stages of repair. None of the ships was as large as the highlander and several were laid open completely, an indication of major fusion plant rebuilds. Only two of the vessels looked vaugely serviceable. Worse still, as they approached, the large billboards that seemed omnipresent, normally reserved for advertising some sleazy bar or junk shop began to shimmer and shift. Poor quality holos of the four of them appeared along with text reading: 2 million credits dead, 4 million credits alive.

"Maybe I should turn you all in," Junebug said, her voice wheezy and cracking from the drugs and her injuries. Neil started surprised she had spoken, and then laughed.

"Yeah well I see your picture up there too," Neil chuckled.

"Should we lose the mech?" Sven asked, "not exactly incon-fucking-spicuous now is it?" Sayeeda began to laugh but it trailed off into a racking cough that sprayed a fine speckling of blood. She was glad Neil had the presence of mind to remove her helmet.

"A bit late for that," she replied and nodded her head at the shipping yard. The mech would be a major disadvantage if they were planning to stay on planet any length of time, but if they didn’t get off shortly then there was no way they were leaving. With the reward offered, ever person they met would be another chance to get turned in.

"Charge!" There were as many different millitary doctrines as their were soldiers but Junebug had learned her trade in an armored unit. There was nothing subtle about the use of an armored spearhead, you hit hard, hit fast, and kept hitting to the other guy quit. WHen times were desperate, it was always best to attack as ferociously as possible. Neil smashed through the fence without slowing a stride. The flimsy chain link recoiled to its posts with a musical twang and a shower of sparks. Workers screamed and ran in panic, abandoning tools and equipment. Several guards emerged from barracks hefting weapons but one look at the rampaging mech sent them fleeing. Neil fired a burst of gun fire into the air to encourage their hasty departure.

“Ok, now we just need to fly a junk freighter into orbit passed the stars no how many hostiles…”
@POOHEAD189

Normally the guards...lazy-inclined mercenaries would be a better term, would have put up some initial resistance against an aggressive foe. Unfortunately for them, their foe was consisted of a hulkingly feral Xenos, a tall and methodically deadly Cyborg, and the most dangerous of all, a young pyromaniac operating heavy machinery. It took less than a minute past the fence and five men dead to get the group to one of the junkers that lay in the lot.

"Securing perimeter." Sven said with pausing, immediately patrolling the vicinity in the hanger to make sure there were no more enemies lying in wait. Reinforcements would no doubt be minutes away and they would likely be overwhelming. Not to mention AA guns would be coming online shortly after that to send them all to hell. The MH-350's cockpit opened, and Neil picked up Sayeeda as carefully and as quickly as he could and stepped out, her body draped across his shoulder with her legs at his front.

She patted his back. "Weapon." She said to him. He blinked, not knowing if she was awake enough for that. After a slight hesitation, he handed her his 10 mm pistol. "You're the Captain." He said.

The Hexa had done his best not to rip onto the doors to the Junker, the metal screeching as it slid open. He entered the Junker with Neil following tentatively behind, trying not to stand too directly in the middle of any walk way in case the avalanche of an bounty hunter decided to wade his way without looking. A part of him still feared that Saxon will just 'decide' that they had partnered long enough and he would casually snap Neil's neck. He hoped there was a way he could bring the mech.

As they stepped inside, the walls themselves looked ruses and lightly bent from constant use, but upon a very very quick inspection, Neil designated that the structure of the ship was good enough to risk a flight, considering the alternative. Across the ship, he heard Saxon's footsteps halt for a moment, and then a very human scream echoed across the halls before it was suddenly silenced, and the heavy footsteps continued. Neil bared his teeth in a grimace.

The door in front of him burst open, and a mangy, grime ridden man holding a rifle stood there, eyes wild and his barrel pointed at Neil's face. The pilot was glad he wasn't holding a weapon. "Hold on, I have a wounded person here." Neil said, slowly raising his hands. The man's hands shook, and Neil wasn't convinced he wouldn't accidentally shoot Neil out of sheer shuddering. "T-Turn around. Slowly." He ordered him.

Predictable, Neil did so, and the man found himself on the wrong end of Sayeeda's pistol. He dropped even before the crack of her gun had faded. Neil had only heard the shot, but judging the fact that he hadn't been hit and Sayeeda was reloading the weapon, it was a safe bet she killed the guy. "Nice shooting." Neil said. Sayeeda smacked his ass, causing him to jump. "Get to the cockpit," she ordered hoarsely.

"You got it."
@Penny

Sven clanked up the access way as Neil began flipping switches in the cockpit, the cyborg was cleaning a bloody dagger with an oily rag he had evidently picked up amongst the detritus of the shipping yard. His eye tracked from the smoking pistol in her hand to the dead guard who lay on the concrete, blood slowly spreading from the neat hole in his sternum.

"Not bad for being half dead," Sven said grudgingly. Sayeeda smiled, her olive skin uncharacteristically pale and baring her white teeth.

"I like to think I could make that shot even dead," she said through clenched teeth. Sven grunted and continued on his way. From somewhere outside the ship the 20mm cannon that Saxon wore sputtered a short, ugly sounding burst and was answered by a hail of return fire and a half dozen clangs against the hull as stray small arms fire struck the half derelict freighter.

"Time to go," Sayeeda said or at least tried to say. The lizard man came stomping up the ramp before slapping a control to close the hydraulic ramp. The cannon in his left arm still smoked though clearly the burst had jammed the weapon he had spent the past half hour trying to unjam it. Kink in the loading tube, Junebug thought as the engines roared to life.

"I should kill you both now," Saxon hissed looking at the gun in Sayeeda's lap. He rightly guessed she didn't have the strength to raise it. Sayeeda laughed a mocking laughed that flecked her lips with blood.

"Please," she sneered, "You going to fly us up out through whatever anti-air they have, passed whatever merc ships they managed to scramble and then deal with a Terran warship?" Saxon's nostrils flared but he stomped passed her towards the cockpit, tali flicking back and forth. The hull plating kicked up as the engines roared to life and the freighter began to lift. It obviously was too small to bother with grav plating which meant the ride up to orbit promised to be punishing.

"You sure you can drive one of these?" Junebug asked.

Neil carefully flipped every switch he believed he needed in order to get this ship out of orbit, at least moving as if he knew what to do. "Well," he began, yanking the throttle that happened to be hanging above him in the form of a lever grip. "It's no Highlander, but I've flown things like this before back on Signus Prime, when I was there for a few months and sweet on one of the loading worker girls. I spent my time flying a small loading-"

Saxon cut in. "Spare us the stories. Can you fly this or not?"

Neil gave him an intensely sarcastic side-eye look. "Yes." He said with emphasis. To hammer in the point, the entire ship jumped for a split second and sent everyone, even the heavy Xenos off the floor for a moment, causing everyone except Sven to give a small cry of a alarm. When they righted themselves, there was only a small but incredibly uncomfortable juttering across the entire ship. Saxon's growl caused Neil to turn around. "Might wanna fasten your seat belt, bit guy." He turned to Sayeeda. "By the way, what kind of weapon was that guy you killed carrying?"

Sayeeda coughed, holding her stomach as if to keep each rib still in line. "Looks like a slug-thrower M90." she said.

"Wow, don't see much of those anymore." Neil replied, secretly hoping it had been a las-carbine. Those were usually best when trying to board a ship. Very good against personnel, but gave little damage to ship plating. Still, he doubted the slug thrower would do much to a ship hull either. By Good Gideon, he wished he had his other guns. He didn't even know if this ship had a honing sensor that could lock onto other ship frequencies.

Sudden wind currents caused the ship to rock to the side in a way that felt very much like they were freefalling, but after a moment the cargo ship righted itself. "Ho ho, thought I'd killed us all for a moment."

"Wouldn't," she coughed. "Be the first time."

Neil grinned at her, and helped her sit back a bit so she could keep still and not get hurt further. "Only a few more minutes and we'll be out of orbit. We'll find it." He said. And he was right.

Unfortunately, he only picked up the Terran ships and their cloaking devices were dicovered when they were within a hundred and twelve kilometers from them, and they were closing fast. "Sssshit!" Neil exclaimed, trying to get the cargo ship to turn. He knew then that they had to have captured the Highlander. He'd been following their frequency ever since they made orbit. "So Junebug, er, Captain. I think they have Taya..."
@Penny

Shots tore passed the freighter as it ascended into high orbit. Neil juked sideways, narrowly avoiding a spray of brightly colored plasma bolts. Saxon barred his teeth and Sven watched as impassively as ever.

“The Terrans are shooting at us?” Saxon hissed. Junebug shook her head weaky, her skin had grown very pale and she felt light headed.

“Nah, it has to be the locals, a Terran cruiser would swat this bucket without breaking a sweat,” Junebug explained.

“Neil didn’t mention local ships,” Sven pointed out. Junebug laughed bitterly, pausing to devole into a wracking cough for several seconds.

“This is an intra system tramp, I guess the captain didn’t spring for combat quality sensors,” Junebug explained. Most ships made do with very rudimentary sensor suite, radar and directed lidar for dangerous conditions. Neither of those systems were effective against fast moving targets at the kind of ranges space battles were typically fought at.

“Captan Cykali,” a voice crackled out of every speaker on the ship, rending the words in an uncomfortable stereo. Even the speaker on Saxon’s armor echoed the words. They must have been being transmitted by a tremendously powerful radio over every useable band. Smoke puffed from one of the vents and began to coil in lazy streams towards the underperforming ventilation ducts.

“Captain Cykali, this is TEF October Sky, respond at once.” Neil looked over his shoulder at her as though seeking direction. She tried to shrug but succeeded only in lolling her head to the side.

“Can’t… can’t hurt,” she whispered. Suddenly she felt immensely tired. If she could just get some sleep.

“She is crashing,” Sven observed without interest. The vessel rocked as something struck it, half the lights in the ship went out in an instant.

“This is uhhh freighter Edwardian, we have Junebug, err Captain Cyckali aboard,” Neil shouted. He shouldn’t be shouting Junebug thought sleepily, Saxon was leaning down over her shaking her shoulder.

“Is Neil Edwards with you?” the voice over the radio demanded. Neil’s response to the question was lost but a moment later he cursed.

“Holy fuck, the Terran’s just splashed everything in the air except us!” Neil shouted. Even without the sensor readouts, the sudden flurry of torpedos from the warship and the accompanying blasts, made this obvious to anyone with even a rudimentary knowledge of space warfare.Saxon was shouting something about Neil working with the Terran’s but Junebug was already slipping into unconsciousness.

"Proceed 320 Kilometers forward and lower any defense systems you may have. That is an order." the voice over the comm demanded. It was the wrong way to end a phrase when speaking to Neil. If he hadn't already sworn allegiance to you, he'll sooner shoot you than comply with any orders you had to give. He was about to tell the Terran's to go fuck themselves when he noticed a slight movement to the side, and realized it was Junebug's head slumping as she lost consciousness.

Neil's head began to burn out of a sudden spike of anxiety. "Fine, fine...yeah yeah." he agreed.

Saxon grabbed Neil and pulled him up to dangle over the chair, his mandible smelling of a fresh kill. "Are you insane? If you are not working for them, what do you think they're doing here if not to imprison you?"

"You're not wanted, are you?" Neil asked him, swallowing. His heart beat rapidly, though it was more out of worry for Sayeeda than fear of Saxon, unless Saxon saw to it they did not comply. "Do you really think we can outrun them in this junker?"

"He's right." Sven said, his gravely voice as neutral as ever. He simply looked forward, worry not present, but as always with a calculated pragmatism. "Judging by the limited information, I still gather we have a 1 in 870 chance of evading them, and if we did, where would we go? Our goal was to find their interstellar ship. Without it, we will be unable to survive."

Saxon dropped Neil into the chair, clenching his massive, clawed fists in barely surpressed anger. Neil ignored him. "We have wounded on board." Neil said over the Comm. The static disappeared and the voice spoke again. "Medical staff standing by. When the ship is docked, hand over all weapons and await further instruction."

Neil sped the ship forward with all haste, nearly frying the thrusters. Never in his life had he willingly gone toward the law until today.
@Penny

The November Sky was immense over a kilometer and a half long it dwarfed anything in local space. The vessel was shaped like a throwing knife with a thin tapered bow that came to a fairly narrow point, a slight bulge just aft of amidships and then a second tapering section around which her vast sublight engines were clustered in six housings which protruded from the midline. Unlike a freighter like the Highlander, the November Sky had never touched and atmosphere, having been constructed in one of the many orbital shipyards that served the Terran Navy. No ship so large could ever hope to enter a gravity well and leave again. The entire length of the ship was festooned with weapons ports. Turrented plasma cannons, missile batteries, mass drivers as well as dozens of launch bays which housed fighters, bombers and the various utility craft that the ship relied upon for its dirtside business. All of that was just window dressing for the ships real armament, a massive spinal mounted rail gun which ran the length of the ship. Such weapons were useful only in capital ship engagements or to threaten static positions like space stations or ground facilities.

The unnamed cargo lifter was directed by laser designators to a large hangerbay just below the port side bulge. Even before it touched down the Highlander was visible. Terran technicians in gray disruptive pattern fleet utilities were climbing over the ship, some were obviously engaged in repairs while others appeared to be taking readings.

“The Terrans are friends of yours?” Saxon sneered.

“Fucked if I know,” Neil responded as he tapped the attitude jets to slow the decent. Several point defence batteries, designed for shooting down enemy missiles but more than capable of shredding an unshielded freighter, tracked their descent. The ship touched down with a gentle clang. Neil tore his harness off and ran to the ramp slapping the activation switch. Junebug lay on her side, extremely pale and breathing in short shallow puffs that stirred her dark hair. The ramp opened with glacial slowness to reveal a phalanx of Terran Marines suited up in vac-armor and carrying bulky vacuum rated rifles.

“We need medics!” Neil called down, looping his arms beneath Junebugs and dragging the unconscious mercenary to the mouth of the hatch. A smallish man in an immaculately tailored uniform snapped his fingers and a trio of men, each wearing armor marked with a caduceus on the right shoulder pad and bearing a grav stretcher rushed forward, lifting Sayeeda and laying her on the grav stretcher. A large hoop like device flipped upright and ran over her at the speed of a brisk walk. Holographic screens sprang to life showing detailed scans of internal organs and bone structures as well as dozens or hundreds of vital statistics. One of the medics, his armor marked with a lieutenant's bars, watched the data scroll passed for a moment.

“Keep the armor on, there is significant swelling we don't want to risk a crash before we get to preop” he snapped in the precise accented galactic typical of the Terran military.

“Get me a tatrobane drip and three large bore IV access points. Med bay prep for a level one trauma with…” the medical babble trailed off as the stretcher rushed down the ramp and towards one of the blast doors that granted access to the hangar. Within a few seconds it was gone beyond the doors.

“Mr Edwards,” the suave looking officer called from below. He was a handsome man with dark hair and an immaculately trimmed mustache. His voice was rich and cultured and sounded friendly, although his eyes remained still and cold. White piping rimmed the rank tabs that identified him as a Major in Directorate K, the legendarily ruthless Terran Fleet Intelligence.

“Would you and your friends come down please, I would take it as a favor if you left any weapons aboard your ship,” he called in a pleasant cultured voice. The marines flanking him didn’t bother with an amateur theatrics, they merely kept their weapons leveled.

“He is no friend of mine,” Saxon snarled irritable. The officer shrugged his shoulders as though the point didn't much matter to him.

“In that case we shall be happy to escort you to the nearest airlock.” The fellows jovial tone didn’t shift even a fraction, but there was no doubt in the world that he was willing to do exactly that if anyone made any trouble.

Neil breathed a sigh of relief that Junebug was now being taken care of. He knew he could trust them to keep her alive. After all, she was the one they probably wanted to speak to the most. He didn't worry about being caught in the middle of a Terran ship. He had escaped plenty of fortified areas in his life. It was all about playing along until he didn't need to anymore.

Neil held his hands up. "Don't worry about me, lads. My weapons are on the freighter that you had so conveniently procured." He said, speaking in a facestiously posh accent, before instantly switching back to his normal voice. "Oh wait..." He pulled out his 10mm gun, and gave a guilty smile. He took out the clip, and then pulled out the slide, and the bullet that was in the chamber was ejected out. Neil caught it mid air, and then presented the weapon and ammo to the officer, who, to Neil's surprise, was now surrounded by guards aiming rifles at him.

"They don't like sudden movements." The officer explained.

"A wise policy." Neil admitted, and handed over the weapon. The officer took it gingerly, and two guards received the weapon's on Saxon's person, much of them too heavy for a single man to hold carefully. Neil shook his head at the sight of the flechlette ripper gun being handled. One wrong move and those men would kill half a dozen of their comrades. Suddenly, a loud and incessant noise could be heard from Neil's right, and a man calling for the officer. Neil turned to see Sven with his hands up, and three men with lasrifles trained on him.

"Sir! This one has readings all over the place! Possible Cybernetics!"

Neil snorted. "That is an understatement."

Minutes later, and with Sven in multiple energy powered shackles based upon a metallic core at the center to focus the restricting beams, they were led deeper into the ship. Every doorway, every hall and window was shaped perfectly and with a utility befitting a military craft. Neil suddenly had a very eerie feeling. This ship looked much like a militarized version of the Ghost ship he and Sayeeda had traversed when the Xenonids had invaded Fornax. He knew it was just bad memories, or at least adrenaline pumping memories, rearing their ugly head.

Down three corridors, with heavy guard escort in the flank and vanguard, the three were placed into a white room, with uncomfortable looking steel chairs that were rooted to the floor, and a large desk that looked to be both an average work desk and a military operations/observation channel. But what Neil was surprised about was that Taya was in the room, and her face lit up when she saw Neil. "Neil! Thank Gideon you're ok!"

She got up and ran to him, too excited to care if she was acting younger than her age. She must have been worried sick. Neil embraced her with a grin. "We're fine. Sayeeda too. She was hurt but she's in medbay. She'll be out here in no time."

"Medbay?" Taya asked, pulling back for a moment, though she seemed convinced. Neil was convinced too. If something happened to Junebug he would be far less cooperative. The happiness in Taya disappeared when she noticed Saxon and Sven enter the room, and her face drained of blood. "W-who are they?"

"Oh they're uhhh my old friends!~" Neil said, arms out.

She didn't seem convinced. But she decided not to push the topic further. "So, do you know why we're here?"

"I thought you did." Neil said, and he turned around to face the officer. "How about enlightening us?"
@Penny

“Ah,” said the Intelligence Officer, “ I should be delighted.” With an unhurried grace he made his way across the room, and took a seat behind the console. With swipe of his finger he bought a holographic display live. The display focus at the eyes of its user and was just a blur of light to anyone else trying to read it. The terminal might have been displaying data, stress readouts, or it might just has easily have been a ploy to make them feel like they were less important than mundane work.

“Firstly my name is Major York,” he said in his tone of faux gentillity, smiling at them like a snake with particularly perfect teeth.

“You are here, because Mr Edwards and Captain Cykalii are wanted for the murder of a team Terran archaeologists about three years ago.

“What!?” Neil spluttered coming to his feet with a look of shock on his face. If York was discomforted or surprised by the reaction he gave no sigh.

“You mean that team of commandos you dropped on us back on Savran?!”

York cleared his throat delicately and turned the display into an omni-directional mode.The screen flashed into holographic images of Neil and Sayeeda with biographical notes in galactic including charges of murder and conspiracy. The photos ranged in quality, old photos from an I.D showed a younger Neil, and a twenty something Sayeeda Cyckali in an officer cadets uniform. More recent footage was of grainy poor quality recording equipment like helmet recorders and gun cams.

“Those would be the archaeologists yes,” the officer continued a note of wry amusement giving his voice a richer tone than before.

“The Directorate was very insistent you be picked up after the incident,” York continued, “You wouldn’t believe how much time and resources they spent coming space around Fornax for you. Of course you were off taking your little cryo nap at the time. Funny how the universe works.”

The console made a beeping sound and York looked down at something before brightening.

“You will be pleased to know that our surgical computer predicts that Captain Cyckali will make a complete recovery. She should be combat effective by the end of the day. Excellent news!”

“So you shot down all those ships and captured the Highlander to arrest them?” Taya asked, looking back and forth between Neil and York in confusion. York reached up and fiddled with his musache for a moment. Then he clicked a holographic key and the image zoomed in on the strange tattoo Neil had picked up from the Ancient artifact on Savran.

“I shot down all those ships and captured your freighter so that we could talk about this.”

I am not photogenic, Neil thought to himself. He felt he was good, or at least ok looking, but he was that type where you'd need to be looking at him instead of taking a picture of him because something would get lost in translation. He shook his head, marveling how picturesque Sayeeda always looked, badass and combat ready while it just didn't work for him. He pondered this while trapped on a Terran ship, hundreds of guards with guns between him and any exit, for some unknown purpose.

The entire explanation of their murdering Terran operatives was unsettling to say the least. Neil almost called bullshit on that. He did speak up, at least. "Look, that planet was not a Terran planet and your boys were on the ground. We were just doing a job."

"Truly?" York asked, probably rhetorically. "Well, I suppose you might be right, if not for the fact that Savran was a criminal hive that harbored known terrorists, and was located in the Ptolemy system. I am certain I do not need to remind you what organization owns the Ptolemy system, and all system's connected to it? But I, and you, digress. Allow me to see your palm."

Neil paused for a moment, scrutinizing York before he opened his hand. The man approached, then looked at Neil with a neutral expression. "Your other palm."

"Can't blame a guy for trying." Neil said, opening his other hand. Taya shook her head, knowing full well Neil was being far too ironic just to be difficult. She would have hit him if she didn't feel that any sudden movement wouldn't be met with lethal force from hidden guns. York seemed to be satisfied with what he saw, however. He grabbed Neil's hand and examined the scarred tattoo. "This matches the Aelahyne designs we found elsewhere...what significance was this on Savran? How did you get this?"

Neil pulled his hand away gingerly. "It helped me access doorways and consoles. It hasn't been useful since, though it's stung in certain circumstances." he explained. "I...don't remember how I received it. Or I couldn't tell. It was dark in an ancient facility and I fell. One of the tiles I placed my hand on burned this into me."
@Penny

“Interesting,” York said, examining Neil’s hand as though he thought he ought to have it amputated. After a moment of uncomfortable silence he let the pilot’s hand drop and returned to his desk. The holographic display flickered into high resolution shots of Neil’s hand, clearly taken by recorders hidden in the walls or ceiling. Patterns of light, clearly a computer imposition flashed over the tattoo, but they seemed to lose resolution and fade out before every quite completing.

“There are some people, quite a body of experts actually, who would suggest we toss you in a lab for the rest of your life,” York said with a touch of dry amusement to his voice.

“If all you too are going to do reminisce about old times I dont see why we need to be here,” Saxon hissed, folding his muscular arms infront of his body. York nodded as though Saxon had made a good point. The intelligence operative raised his hand in a languid guesture. Two Terran marines in full battle gear stepped towards Saxon. The Hex hissed and shoved at the nearest guard, his companion drew a thick black rod from his belt. Snarling, Saxon shoved the first guard into the second, smashing the armored marine to the ground like a bowling pin. Taya screamed and ducked behind a chair as the Hex swung around and leaped at York, clawed fingers outstretched. The spy moved like a snake, he seemed to twist out from his chair like vapour, catching hold of Saxon’s body armor while he was in mid air and pivoting with his body, hurling the airborne lizard through the hologram and into the wall beyond. The bulkhead dented inward as several hundred kilos of Hex crashed into it. York was on him in an instant he drew his hand back and delivered a single sharp blow to the back of Saxon’s neck. The Hex spasmed and went limp. York stood up as though he was stepping out of a limo and resumed his seat. There was a dry alien sound that it took a moment for the occupants of the room to recognise as Sven’s laughter.

The shame faced marines grabbed the unconscious Hex and dragged him from the room. A moment later they reemerged and escorted the still laughing Sven from the room. There was a moment of silence broken only by the click of keys at the Terminal. York, not even sweating, paused in his typing and looked up at Taya. The girl met his eyes, though she looked terrified. After a moment of eye contact York nodded and killed the display.

“Fortunately there will be plenty of time for that if things don’t go well,” York continued as though the interruption had never happened. He tented his fingers before him and leaned forward.

“Terran Intelligence has a project for you Mr Edwards,” York stated pleasantly.

“If this project goes well, we can probably find it in our heart to forget about a few convient archaeologists.”
@POOHEAD189

Neil winced at the entire display, and even the act of putting Saxon down. Clearly the man had some augmentations given to him. But Neil was wincing for more than any sympathy for Saxon. As the Hexa was being dragged out, Neil shook his head. York raised an inquisitive eyebrow, the barest hint of disapproval entering his pleasant visage. "You do not wish to take this offer?"

"You uh," Neil said, looking back at the door. "You made a huge mistake."

York blinked. "Explain."

Neil hesitated, as if saying the next phrase would summon what he knew to be coming. "You went and pissed him off."

York opened his mouth to speak, and then realized a sound in the hall was fading into an echo. Had that been a cry of pain? Neil scooted to the side and pulled Taya as well as Saxon re-entered the room. He did not seem filled with unbridaled rage. More a calm, stalking beast that had sighted prey. York blinked, clearly surprised Saxon had recovered so quickly. His body had been limp earlier. The Alien suddenly surged forward, and York moved like a whip, angling out of the way perfectly. He moved with a grace Neil could hardly comprehend for a human. It reminded him of the Aelahyne in his visions from the tattoo.

But Saxon followed his every movement.

The Xenos managed to duck, spin, and almost with a sixth sense, he caught the leg that had been aiming for his forehead. With a quick spin, he threw York at the wall. The man hit the steel hard, though something told Neil he wouldn't be down for the count. Saxon was on him in a moment though, his next step threatening to crush York's skull. "Do you think, puny human that you can-"

His entire body shuddered from an immense spasm of energy. His cry was an indecipherable garble, and some wiry strength pulled him back, so he was to fall backwards onto the floor instead of forewards onto the agent. The Hexa fell, crushing a table under his weight. As soon as the form of the Hex had left Neil's field of vision, the pilot found himself faced to face with York, the agent having already regained a standing position and his sidearm as if he hadn't been tossed like a ragdoll. Neil on the otherhand, nonchalantly held an electro-riot gun one of the fallen guards had dropped.

"What was this about a deal? Because I'm all ears." Neil said, dropping the gun and holding his hands up. York raised an eyebrow, and spoke into an earpiece for a moment, calling for more men to come and make sure the large Xenos was restrained.

"Very well Mister Edwards. You are with your uses, I will grant you that." he said, smoothing the two strands of hair that were out of place on his smartly groomed head. "As I was saying, you and your 'team', if you would agree, will escort a few key individuals and another team of Terrans onto Savran, where you will aid us, without question, with your specially emblazoned hand to help us excavate the Elder tech that we are certain lies beneath the planet's surface. Do that, and your team will lose its bounty and you can have a fresh start. What do you say?"

Neil looked over his shoulder. "Taya?"

The girl peeked over a fallen desk, and squeaked something. Neil nodded. "You heard the lady, we're doing it. May we see our Captain now?"
@Penny

Junebug had been in class one triage facilities on three prior occasions. Once on Temlek where artillery fire had gotten through the net of anti-ordance plasma guns and blasted the gun pits that she and her troops had been sheltering in whilst waiting for the reliving column to break through. A nearby vehicle had been hit and she had been sprayed with burning petroleum. Another time on Chadon’s World, a directional mine had gone off beneath her combat car. She had been riding in the left wing gun and had been tossed clear before the secondary explosions had slagged the vehicle. A third time on Chalcedon she had been shot in a rear area when a bar fight escalated unexpectedly.

Just because a sensation was familiar didn’t make it pleasant. The Terrans, like the Armored, used direct nerual impulse generators rather than anaglgesics once a soldier was safely in a med center. There were fewer side effects and they were more reliable. They also tened to scramble the mind of the patient when they were turned off. Light was suddely very bright on her eyes and she tried to cry out. Neraby a male voice said something and the light dimmed. After a moment she realised she was laying in a medicomp. Several nurses or doctors stood around looking at holographic read outs.

“Easy there Captain how are you feeling?” A man in a surgical mask asked. His right eye was covered with some sort of imager the clicked and whired. There was a powerful taste of antisceptic in the back of her throat.

“Just aces,” she tried to say but her mouth felt gummy and the words came out garbled and unintelligble. Frowning she tried again.

“Just aces,” she responded, clearer this time.

“Can I have some water?” she asked. Her mind knew she should be concerned with where she was, the last thing she remembered was shooting someone on a ship, though she couldn’t quite remember why or who exactly. SHe had shot alot of people afterall her mind rationalized.

“Not just yet,” the doctor replied, “we need to see how the resynths hold up.” As he spoke he glanced over at one of the techs who was cycling through a series of read outs.

“You were in quite a state, very lucky that the overpressure didn’t flat out smash any organs,” the doctor went on. He sounded proud, pleased that nature hadn’t been allowed to take its course.

“Sir I’m ready to return to my unit,” she mumbled. Judging from the confusion that clouded the physician’s eyes that wasn’t quite the right response either. He exchanged looks with someone too far out of her field of view for her to see. Junebug tried to turn her head but the medicomp wouldn’t allow it.

“Where am I?” she asked looking around. It was high tech for certain, probably better than most of the field surgical centers the Armored had used. State of the art without a doubt.

“You are aboard the Terran Vessel November Sky,” a voice said from behind her, a moment later a mustachioed man strode into view. He had a wirey dangerous look and his eyes glinted with intelligence. A Terran warship? She had a confused recollection of the Terran’s having captured the highlander. Adrenaline surged through her system and several alarms began to beep.

“Not to worry, you and your friends are our guests, your employers you might say,” the man went on. He clearly intended to say more but Taya pushed past him and hugged Junebug, even though most of her body was still within the medicomp.

“It is good to have you back Junebug!” the girl all but wept.

York gave a smile, though it was difficult to tell whether it was genuine or not with the impressive mustache. Meanwhile, Neil's smile was genuine. Not only Taya's affection for Junebug, but the fact that she looked like she would live. It was quick though, the smile. He heard various beeps and medical machines thrumming and he briefly wondered how such things work. He gazed intently at one of the contraptions, a tall cylinder with an oval head that read vitals through green waves on the screen.

"You should make a full recovery in the matter of days, Miss Cykali." York said. With her wits returning to her bit by bit, she began to realize the regiment she had believed herself to be in was not here, and she could afford to speak a bit less formally. "Captain Cykali," she corrected him. The man inclined his head as if to say 'fair enough.' "Where is my pilot?" she asked, a bit weakly after she had talked for a bit.

Taya waved Neil over, but he was too busy looking elsewhere. Taya then told Junenbug. "One second," and scurried over to literally push Neil over into Sayeeda's field of vision. Neil then got a good look at Sayeeda, and realized he had wanted to avoid seeing her so banged up. He played it cool though. "You feeling ok?" he asked her. "Next time don't slow me down." He joked. "When it comes to heavy weapons I get a little carried away."
@Penny

“Please,” Junebug said with a week laugh, “WIthout me you would be scattered across a city block.” She didn’t quite remember the specifics but it seemed like the thing to say. Her memory seemed to be clearing and a cool sensation was spreading down her right arm there was a quiet whir as a pneumatic pump delivered medication. There was a confused jumble of memories that seemed to seperate out into a half dozen battlefieds.

“It was nearly you who were scattered all over the pavement,” Neil pointed out. Sayeeda made a dismissive gesture down at her medicomp encased body.

“Everything still on the inside, mostly at any rate,” she said, “beside if I bitched every time I got a little blown up I’d never shut up.”

York, still hovering put on a patronizing smile.

“Well I’ll leave you to your reunion,” the spy said, fluffing his mustache with his hand in a way that was meant to convey comradely bonhomie. Junebug fixed him with a steady stare. She had seen men and women like him before. In what Andor’s armored euphemistically called ‘the field police’. They looked human enough at first but their work turned them into something else. He reached the med bay door and looked back over his shoulder.

“I’m sure Mr Edwards will be happy to fill you in on the details of our arrangement,” and with that he was gone. Junebug opened her mouth to ask what he was talking about when a calm female voice sounded over the public alert system. It sounded like a real voice rather than a synthesized computer simulation.

“All hands prepare for insertion.” All around them the medics grabbed hold of whatever solid surface was to hand. The medicomp tightened around Junebug’s body. A tone sounded followed rapidly by two more sequentials and then there was a sudden shuddering sensation and Junebug felt like she was about to vomit up her internal organs. Then the universe seemed to relax. They were in the RIP. Junebug arched her eyebrow at Neil.

“I’m sure Mr Edwards will be happy to fill me in on the details of this arrangement…”

Taya opened her mouth to speak, and then suddenly gained a small twinkle in her eye and a mischievous smile, and she stepped out of sight. In truth, Taya just didn't want to interrupt Neil, or explain that she sat back and allowed the events to transpire. She had gotten braver since they had all met, but she still felt wholly inadequate when it came to certain things. That and a few other sly reasons.

"Can I get a seat?" Neil asked, one of the last nurses that were exiting their section of the medbay gave a smile and nodded, providing a rolling chair. After they had made it into R.I.P. space, of course. Neil plopped down, and he was going to place his hand on the holster of his gun, but the familiar resting place was gone and he recalled they had taken it. Maybe he could get it back considering they were now working for them. Speaking of which...

"Well?" Junebug said.

"Well, the dapper fellow that you had the pleasure of meeting earlier is called York and he is our new boss. Or employer." He imagined Junebug would take the news better if he didn't make it sound so subordinate. "They took Sven and Saxon I don't know where. But they saved your life, and I think they trust me now because I helped this man York apprehend Saxon-"

"Spit it out. What could they need from us that they can't do themselves?" She asked.

Neil gave a guilty smile and waved with his branded hand.

She tried to laugh, but coughed instead.

Neil shrugged. "They want to get into the Ancient Ruins we were in. In exchange they'll give us our freedom. No more bounty, and some reward money. I think it's not a bad deal, and I accepted it. Hope you don't mind."
@Penny