Even through his armor, Dirk could hear the whistling of the wind as the gale tried to creep in through the hyper-steel fiber of his suit's seams. He crawled unsteadily onto the bow of the ship as the fallen man tried to collect himself, his face obscured in a helmet with a not too dissimilar shape to Dirks, though the armor was of lower quality. All Dirk had to do was move his front foot away from a swiping blade and then kick the man's arm that supported him staying upright. He hit the deck with a 'bonk' and Dirk's next kick sent him unceremoniously off the ship as the craft bounced along the waves. 

Another man landed, however, this time more gracefully. He hit the bow with a stomp of his feet and immediately the two squared up, Dirk and the mercenary, this one unhelmed with short, dark hair whipping in the wind, traded blows before Jocasta's eyes. The impacts of their punches were somewhat muted to each combatant from their protection, and Dirk upped the ante by pulling out his xarconian basilard, a blade just short of two feet with a high-durability steel that could pierce certain materials more effectively than normal high-carbon steel and even lasbolts. 

A smaller blade shot out of his opponent's wrist mount, smaller but thrumming with power. It was an electro-blade, with a small particle accelerator that helped the dagger-like protrusion pierce all but tank armor. Dirk cursed. Half of these guys were amatuers with basic weapons and the others had better equipment than even high-tier hunter. 

Dirk stabbed at him, aiming for under his armpit. He turned his shoulder and took it on a pauldron, shoving his left forward. Had Dirk not caught the wrist, it would have cut him in the spleen. Dirk heabutted him, his helm (and head) proving stronger, sending the man staggering back. The merc caught himself and swiped, cutting a small seam across Dirk's breastplate, and then stabbed again. Dirk sidestepped, grabbed the arm with both hands and pulled it down as his knee shot up. He didn't break through the plating, but it broke the man's arm. He screamed inside his helmet, but Dirk didn't give him a chance to readjust himself. He stabbed under his breastplate, the merc giving a feeble grab for the arm, but he was too weak and too slow. Blood began to pool along the prow, and as the merc fell to his knees, Dirk took his blade and shoved it under his chin, ending the man's life. 

Lasbolts shots every few moments, either glancing off the prow or more rarely clipping Dirk. One shot, just after he finished the jumper off, hit him square in the chest and nearly sent him falling off the bow. 

"Guess it can't be helped." Dirk grunted, grabbing the railing of the ship's nose and locking on to the other boat with his visor. Green circles appeared before his vision, and they flashed red as it pinpointed the object. After sheathing the knife, he raised his pressed his thumb four times under his palm and gave the word. A small explosion shot out of his wrist like a kinetically launched projectile, before a small engine roared from its back and it rocketed towards the boat that stayed with them. 

In the distance, an explosion the size of a truck erupted from the ship. It wasn't decimated, but it was hard to tell if everyone on it was dead or not. 

"Why didn't you use that before!?" Jocasta asked, yelling over the spray of the sea. 

"Those things are damned expensive." He said calmly, climbing back over to her side.