[h2]John[/h2] The instruments fed back decent stats for a hasty start up. John wasn’t too concerned; flicking a channel to the bay master while slowly dialing up the turbine to launch velocity. “Bay 12, Shamrock 1; Standing by for scramble launch.” [quote=@Dyelli Beybi] She pulled the helmet on, clicking it into place, scrambling to buckle herself into a seat, "Done!" she declared a split second after she had buckled herself in, "Lets hope someone on the shuttle is sensible enough to open the docking bay doors. I've never not do a space walk to try to open it from our side," she declared, continuing to voice her fears, "Tell me if you need me to do anything." [/quote] Velia’s voice came over the crew channel set to John’s left earpiece. John flicked a side display on his right; pulling up the shuttle bay’s feed. Velia had strapped in at the crew chief’s chair towards the shuttle’s front. The safest position in the shuttle outside the armored cockpit. “You should be fine. Just don’t mess with your seat’s controls back there. It’s our engineering and comms.” Not that he didn’t trust her with the communication given her professed occupation. But rather he didn’t want her playing with unfamiliar interfaces that could strand or disable the shuttle in approximately twenty three different ways. “Shamrock 1, Bay 12. Confirm scramble decompression in ten, nine, eight…” Lights lit up the bay beyond his cockpit. The yellow and black striped doors illuminated in the strobing orange flashes. Soon the stars would reveal- [quote=@Pragia12] “Lockman, going to need a steady hand outside the station.”. [/quote] John took a moment at the sudden female voice replacing the professional, steady countdown. A glance at his HUD showed the ID as “Sokolova, V”; the voice familiar but not in an instant manner. Then he remembered, the auburn haired ranger that had been part of the group. She had disappeared into entering with the combat engineer, Lopez. He was about ask why they needed a steady hand when the bay door’s cycled and the expanse of space filled the cockpit windows. Instincts, well honed, came into effect. Release clamps. Punch drive. Follow exit vector. A brief gut churning bit of acceleration as the force of the station and the launching shuttle conflicted for two seconds. Then, the station’s gravity fell away and the shuttle was clear. John banked slightly to clear a spoke. Prepping a flight path back to the colony ship. [quote=Pragia12] ……..bottom………..station…….trained ……..comm’s location.” [/quote] The Ranger-engineer’s next comm was broken. Static and interference eating the transmission John’s brow furrowed as he attempted to troubleshoot his comms. Not wanting to ask Velia, for fear of the aforementioned engineering problem. Though the beacon now popping up in his HUD, both cockpit and helmet, was clear of her intentions. At least what he thought her intentions were. [i] ‘Is she trying to get an extraction? A space walk?[/i]’ John tuned to the crew channel. “Velia, why is the Ranger telling me to head to the bottom of the station?” [quote=Pragia12]“Seven-Four-Seven-Seven-……… for …….. shot, Only …………. call.”[/quote] Another broken transmission. Though John at least remembered targeting beacon numbers. Strange they were usually five digits. Hey keyed in his targeting pod, letting the last number reset at its natural zero- “Scratch my last Velia. Why am I shooting at the station now?” A red crosshair moved incrementally on his screen towards the station’s “bottom”. He banked slightly to the attack computer’s optimized angle as the next generation system selected the best weapon for the target. His ship wasn’t too resplendent with weapons but it was between his nose mounted anti-armor heavy plasma blaster and one of his two MPSM-28 Loggerhead anti-craft missiles. The missiles were designed for fighting off orbital cutters and defense craft. They would crack the stations- [quote=Pragia12]“John, take the shot!”[/quote] John couldn’t say why her voice now came in loud and clear. Or how his finger instinctively jammed down the right bay launch system. The ship shuddering slightly as the weapon bay opened and kicked the Loggerhead missile into space before its engine ignited. Streaking towards the station in a blink of the eye. The explosion over the targeting beacon seeming small and anticlimactic given the distance and lack of sound in space. He was immediately flooded with requests from eighteen local agencies on the station. “Uhhh… Shamrock 1. CAS complete.” Because what else could he say for an instinctive, half computerized assault of a space station.