A ship, once sleek but now many times patched and repaired, sat nestled between two ships in even worse condition. This was the Debris Zone, sometimes called The Shoal. Here hundreds of Ahab reactors still produce both power and gravity in the destroyed shells of hundreds of ships and mobile suits. The ship in question is the only one in sight that is still truly space-worthy, and it rests here to avoid being seen while the crew recover from a recent fight. The side of the hull is painted with the name: [i]The Mercurial Witch[/i].

~~~

Captain Brun sat in her personal cabin(the only one on board) massaging her temples and enjoying the silence. It had been a successful raid on a smaller pirate ship, but celebrating with her crew was never her way. Her satisfied reverie was interrupted by the comm bleeping, as a message came through from the bridge. 

"Captain!" 

Her head tipped up to look at the speaker box on the wall; it was Mick, the sensor technician. Little as she wanted to have a conversation, Brun knew what a call from him could mean. "What is it?" she barked toward the wall.  

"There's a new Ahab wave reaction. It's moving." 

"Could it be loose debris?" she asked impatiently, "There's so many reactors out here, what's special about this one?"

"It's not moving in an orbital pattern, it keeps changing directions. Like it's... looking for something?" he sounded uncertain, but Brun knew Mick well. He had good instincts, and had analyzed a lot of flight patterns from his chair on the bridge.  

"A salvage ship? We can send a sortie to discourage them." 

"Too small, Captain. I thought a mobile suit, only it's strange it's out here alone." 

Brun sat up straight for the first time, and spoke in something close to alarm now, "Who is flying a mobile suit out here? Widen the range, find the ship that it launched from. And order a sortie [i]now[/i]. Get a look at it, and catch it. If it's out here alone it might not be able to send a message back." 

Even as the captain stood to make her way to the bridge, the alarm for battle stations sounded.  

~~~

In the mobile suit hangar, the various suits of the Jolly Rog crew were undergoing minor repairs. Most hadn't gotten more than a few nicks and chips in the nanolaminate, and the cranky old mechanic was preparing the depositor to make the repair.  

"Lefty!" A girl floated down from the catwalk(not much use when the gravity was off), and the mechanic in question closed her eyes and clenched her jaw as she summoned what little patience she was capable of.  

"You're underfoot, Holly," she growled. 

"I'm above you. Actually, neither. There's no up or down here, y'know. But listen, make sure you paint the scratch on my mobile suit's head the right color! I had to trade so many favors to get that, don't ruin it!" 

"First of all, this ain't [i]your[/i] mobile suit. If anything, it's mine, and if I wanna paint it white with a target on the head I'll do that. Now go have a ration or something, you're not wanted in here." 

"Come on!" Holly weedled, "I'll... polish all your wrenches? For a month!" 

Finally Lefty looked at her, a scowl on her face, "If I want 'em polished you'll do it, whatever color I paint [i]my[/i] machines. Now get-" 

She was cut off by the battle station alarm. Lefty rolled her eyes, but kept on working. She was interrupted again by the arrival of the Bosun. 

"Mouse," he addressed Holly, "You're gonna sortie, get in your suit before I throw you in myself."

"The repairs aren't done," Lefty cut in. 

"I didn't ask, crone. If she didn't want a damaged suit, she shouldn'ta got hit, right?" 

"Crone, am I? And here I thought you cared if you could rely on your repairs..." 

The Bosun's hand lashed out in a wicked strike, but it was Holly that he struck, right across the face. She clamped a hand to her nose and kicked back off the deck to float up to her cockpit, blood floating behind her.