Her ship is trembling. The barrage of weapons fire sends shockwaves down the length of the [i]Anemoi[/i] again and again, an endless flurry of jabs without an opening for a counterpunch. Bella can feel every little vibration rolling up her spine until her tail starts curling with the vague tingling sensation of a limb that's falling asleep.

Pchang! Clunk! She barely has time to hear the boarding cables impacting the sides of the ship before she feels the rattle in her teeth. Her ears twitch, almost as if they're annoyed at her other senses for keeping pace. Bella yawns, filling her lungs with the chilly air that's been sending goosepimples across her stomach since she woke up this morning. For some reason, it feels pleasantly refreshing where normally she found it irritating and distracting. Another dozen impacts shake the ship and set her Kaeri to surprised squawking. Bella rolls her eyes. Her ship is trembling, but it's trembling like the arm behind an invincible shield. Only a handful of these strikes mean fuck all, and those are... yes, toward the rear. 

Bella stretches and lazily pulls her fingers through her hair to smooth the tangles that are building near her tips. When she moves the over-wide, stretchy collar of tent-like shirt she's wearing slips mischievously off her shoulder, baring more of her skin and fur while the soft and well worn fabric brushes pleasantly against her exposed thighs. Her tail swishes all on its own just to feel the hem of the shirt brushing so teasingly against it and feel the rush of the cool and minute breeze travelling up her bare back and stomach underneath. The fur on the back of her neck rises as she shivers in response; every slight motion of her body ripples with power. 

She lifts her shirt up to adjust it to a more modest position again, but with the first shifting of her feet across the cool plastic-vinyl floor it flops right back off of her shoulder. She rolls her eyes again. This is, perhaps, a less than ideal outfit to be caught in for her first pirate attack. But in her defense, this was the only outfit she has left. 

"Cut the lights."

The lights stay stubbornly on. To her right, the proud Kaeri warrior droning through her status report as if giving a full run down on the state and composition of the [i]Anemoi's[/i] hull materials would save her from what happens next continues on. Bella's ears twitch and bend away to mute the noise. Unimportant, she can feel that in her feet. Useless, she can feel that in her spine. All around her, the most feared and fearsome warriors of the Empire flinch and shudder and frantically work at valves or levers. Idiots, the lot of them. She shoves her remora to one side and pads silently across the room to catch a servitor who's skirting the edge of the light. 

She's a tiny thing, maybe half Bella's size. Mouse breed. One of the so-called 'menials' that make up the bulk of the ship's crew. She half-squeaks when Bella snatches her by the arm, but stops herself by briefly burying her face against her shoulder before the noise can finish. Bella's palm twitches, and she can feel a complex pattern of raised dots and ridges that traces up and down the length of the gold band she wears around her arm. She squeezes tighter, reveling in the sensation. 

Bella huffs. The mouse-girl works her way to looking up at her Praetor, eyes trembling with fear. But unlike her warriors, it's not a fear that flinches and turns at every fresh rumble or echo of another boarding cable. It's not a fear of invaders or impending battle. This fear, almost worshipful in its singlemindedness, is directed entirely up at Bella. She sneers. 

"You a fast runner?"

No response. The girl half opens her mouth as though considering the act, but quickly closes it and shakes her head instead. A moment later, she blinks and starts nodding. A shake. A nod. A shake. A nod, more frantic than any of the other motions. Her greasy, sandy hair bobs and dips in time with her tiny head, and her long, thin tail coils itself around her leg over and over in a show of complete terror. Bella sniffs. Most days someone like this would be impossible to get a read on, but the Auspex makes short work of the puzzle.

"Good. Congratulations," she says with a grin, "You've just been promoted to the head of my defense force. Get word through the ship to the rest of your, uh, people and have them assemble in the hallways by the shuttle bay. I trust you lot more than these [i]dipshit[/i] owls right now."

More silence. Confused and terrified blinking. Bella hisses and lifts her claws above her head in total defiance of the modesty of her clothing. 

"Are you stupid [i]and[/i] mute? I said go, so fucking go!"

"...O-oh! Right, yes, of course! Um, P-praetor!"