[center][h2][b]The Indomitus[/b][/h2][/center]
[hr]
“Aye, Captain.” Lucia responded, smiling slightly as she relayed the live feed from the [i]Shrike[/i]’s bridge to the rest of the [i]Indomitus[/i]’ CIC. She had to give the former pirate some credit for her ploy, no doubt Onyx-9 and the Reavers could make use of the bridge feed's intelligence.

As for Lucia herself, the Phantom had put plenty of work on her plate already.

Lucia scanned the trove of communications intercepts Sharlin had beamed back to the Indomitus. The woman was curt to the point of rudeness, but she was effective - as an intelligence asset and, more visibly, as the Phantom. The wreckage drifting across the battlespace was testament enough to that. A part of Lucia felt empathy for the pilots, most of whom probably didn’t even realize they were being targeted before being struck.

Turning her attention to the pirates’ communications, Lucia was greeted by overt signs of panic and disarray. The chain of command was collapsing on the opposing side, with overlapping chatter flooding both open and private channels: pleas for support turning into curse-filled tirades as requests went unanswered, panicked callouts of the Lance’s mechs as they darted across the field, and even a few cases of weeping and sobbing over the radio. She began tagging the traffic automatically, allowing the [i]Indomitus[/i]’ automated systems to sift through the ocean of data while she tried to identify anything out of the ordinary. It didn’t take her long to find what she’d suspected, narrow bands of encrypted traffic being masked amidst the disarray.

Lucia grimaced. It aligned with Onyx-9’s assessment: two cohorts operating alongside the pirates, one expendable, one disciplined. The hired fodder were the ones being hung out to dry, while the more professional element mounted a coordinated withdrawal.

Decrypting the pirates’ chatter was going to take some time, but there was still information that could be gleaned in the meantime. Both of the pirates’ larger vessels were pulling away from the combat area, and Lucia would readily bet that they were spinning up their Drift engines, fully intending to abandon the [i]Shrike[/i] to its fate.

“Captain, the strike craft are returning to the Mant - the [i]Torch[/i]. There is a risk that they’ll encounter your auxiliaries, and none of the Lance is in a position to assist.” Lucia turned to Mika. A key piece of the former pirates’ utility was their expendability, and perhaps the capture of a converted carrier was worth more than their lives. But Lucia still thought that it was her duty to ensure that the Captain was aware of the risks. “Are you sure that they should commit to the operation?”
[hr]
[center][b][h2]The Shrike[/h2][/b][/center]
The blast doors to the bridge had sealed automatically when the first boarding alarms triggered. They remained sealed now, thick ceramite slabs sealing the command deck off from the rest of the vessel.

Since then, silence on the [i]Shrike[/i]’s bridge had curdled into something heavier. Officers kept their eyes on their consoles, as if glancing towards the doors might somehow weaken the bulkhead.

They all knew that the battle had gone poorly, to say the least.

Norton stood at the center of the bridge, hands clasped behind his back to hide the tremor in them. He had raged freely over the open channel, spitting curses at Ganishka until his face burned - only to realize too late that she had muted him. The memory lingered now, sharp and humiliating, even after he’d closed the channel. 

The tactical display was now filled by a rapidly thinning battlefield. The two vessels that Norton had expected to move in to support his push were now turning away, their engines burning bright.

“Boss,” the comms officer said carefully, a young man with a smattering of tattoos creeping up his neck, “I can’t raise the Torch. They’re not answering my hails.”

There was a snort from the station beside him.

“Yeah, that’s cos’ they’re leaving us to the Imps. Assholes.”

Nobody contradicted the navigation officer’s bitter comment. They all knew she was right.

On the display’s periphery, Imperial signatures continued their steady advance. The [i]Shrike[/i]’s maneuvering thrusters lagged. Port batteries flickered at partial output. Damage reports stacked up faster than they could be cleared.

Norton felt a wave of anger rising in his chest. It was [i]his ship[/i] that was being ripped apart, and for what? This whole job had seemed too good to be true, and he damn well should’ve known to trust his gut.

Too late to do anything about that now.

Another sound reverberated through the bulkhead, causing the [i]Shrike[/i]’s bridge crew to perk up as a collective, exchanging furtive glances. It was closer this time: a dull and concussive thud.

[i]“Attention pirate bridge crew.”[/i] The crackling voice came over the speakers, and Norton felt a chill run down his spine. [i]"This is Commander Volger of the 89th Lancer Support Company. If you turn your cameras; you can see the eight hull charges I am putting on your doorstep. You can also see I have some more spirited irregulars with my troopers.”[/i]

[i]Shit.[/i] Norton whirled around to his crew, snapping his fingers. “Bring up the feeds, damn it! Now!”

There was suddenly a rush of frantic action from the bridge, hands flying across consoles as they worked like their lives depended on it.

Sure enough, the sinister figures appeared on the bridge’s main screen. Norton’s expression darkened as he saw the charges that they were laying out on the door. It was far more than what was needed to chew through the bulkhead. Norton and his crew would be lucky to survive the blast, let alone the armed gunmen that would follow behind.

[i]“Your choices are simple. Open up and you will be retained under my care and treated as rival privateers by Imperial law. Or don’t open up and I detonate the charges. Then I let my compatriots in and do what they please with whoever survives. You have ten seconds.”[/i]

The comms officer swallowed nervously. “Sir, the doors can take the blast, right?”

Norton glanced back to the viewscreen, where the [i]Torch[/i] and its cruiser escort were now well and truly departing from the field.

Moving quickly, and with a panicked desperation behind his eyes, Norton turned back to his communications officer. “What are you waiting for? Get that door open and get me a channel, quick! Tell them that we -”

In his frantic efforts, Norton didn't realize a few members of the bridge crew draw their sidearms.
[hr]
Outside the door, only a few seconds had passed from when Volger had issued his ultimatum. 

Then came a series of dull thumps echoed from the other side of the hardened ceramite. Muffled screams soon joined them.