Speaking Out on Nate

Previously: Menagerie: An Oasis

Tariq ducked the chair, that was flying across the bar towards him, but failed to see the knee from the hog teamster.  His head rocked back smacking hard into the bar causing him to see stars out of his one good eye.  His cyber-eye worked just fine which is why Tariq was able to deliver a wicked right cross to the teamster knocking him back.  Tariq shook his head to clear the stars and started looking for that teamster or his friends.

Three hog teamsters in their trademark dark blue uniforms piled on top of Moe before he could get up from his chair landing punches and kicks all over his body.  The bar table collapsed showering everyone nearby with alcohol, and bits of wood and glass.  Hobbs stepped away from the table, tripping a rushing teamster, downed his drink and then grabbed one of the hogs on Moe.  The hog let out a squeal of surprise as Hobbs lifted him up by the neck and tossed him over a nearby table, which collapsed upon impact.  With a roar, Moe stood up tossing the other teamsters and parts of the chair off of him.

The bar was emptying fast as patrons did not want to get caught up in the brawl and the inevitable arrival of the station guards.  Moe and Hobbs were brawling with four hog teamsters trading blows, although from the look of the teamsters they were getting the worse of the trade.  With a vicious kick to the groin Tariq put down another hog.  The hog’s squeals could be heard over the brawl and people fleeing.  Tariq strode across the bar pushing people out of the way trying to reach the one person who he was positive had the information they needed.  The hog boss was just about to exit the bar when Tariq grabbed him by the back of his uniform pulling him off of his feet.

Station guards arrived promptly, immediately establishing a cordon that people were quickly sorted through.  Moe and Hobbs knocked the remaining hogs out as the station guards were clearing out the crowd.  They spotted Tariq and the hog boss sitting in a booth and joined him in the booth.  The hog boss looked very nervous, but was pinned into his seat by Tariq one on end and Moe on the other.  Hobbs sat down across from him.

“Now do you want to tell us what we want to know,” Tariq growled?

“Sure,” the hog boss squealed, “why not?”  He looked around the empty bar and could see his men sprawled out.

“Where is the pod,” Hobbs snarled leaning over the table putting him almost snout to snout with the hog boss?

“Docking bay 14 on the lower deck.  Can I go now?”

Four station guards stepped up to the table looking imposing.  Behind them the bar was completely empty.  Moe could see the teamsters in restraints being led out of the bar.  A guard took a step forward placing a paw on his shock stick on his belt.

“Step out of  the booth,” the guard ordered.

“We were just sitting here enjoying a drink,” Moe said softly as he stood up, one of the guards took a step back.

Hobbs slide out of the booth stood next to Moe, and asked in a deep rumble, “Is there a problem officer?”

Previously: Menagerie: Coming Together and Menagerie: Infiltration (part 2)

Through the view port the Watering Hole didn’t look like much, but then again out on the border of “civilization” anything that wasn’t leaking oxygen was considered an oasis.  Moe was looking at the sensor readings trying to figure out who everyone was and if possible why everyone was here.  Not that the Watering Hole didn’t have a lot of traffic, but the who and why were always important if you wanted to stay alive.   Most of the ships were transmitting standard cargo hauler idents.  Several were surprising given that they were from major corporation fleets.  Space was getting smaller every year, Moe thought as he looked at the idents of a few more ships.

“We need to find a mechanic that can fix our engines,” Hobbs said to Tariq as they walked onto the bridge.

“What we need to find is Bil,” Tariq replied, “How does the station look Moe?”

Moe leaned back in his chair hoping that they didn’t notice that they had startled him.  One claw was tapping the scanner screen in what he hoped was a relaxed manner, while his other arm went behind his head like he was yawning.  A yellow light next to the scanner started blinking just as Moe reached the apex of his “yawn,” seeing the blinking light Moe sat upright fast enough that he his arms flailed out as he tried to catch his balance.

“What is it,” both Hobbs and Tariq asked as they tried to crowd around the scanner?

“That is not supposed to be here,” Moe replied while pointing at the yellow light, “That is our transponder from our escape pod.”

“Our pod is here,” Hobbs said quizzically.

“According to the scanner our lost pod is somewhere in or near the station,” Moe said, “Before you ask, no I cannot narrow that down at the moment.  We have to get closer.”

“Then park us,” Tariq ordered.

“Just so you know there are several pirate ships at the station,” Moe said as he started maneuvering the ship towards the Watering Hole.

“Anyone we know,” Hobbs asked over his shoulder as he headed off the bridge, “I want to make sure we are prepared.”

“I think we are familiar with a few of them,” Moe shouted.

Tariq leaned in, “Who?”

“Looks like a few ships from a scav fleet along the Bov border,” Moe said while adjusting the scanner, “Here and here, these two we have had run-ins with before.  This one here is new, but is traveling with those two.”

Tariq jabbed the comm button, “Hobbs small arms only.”

A blue light started blinking on the console, Moe flipped a switch underneath the light and turned to face Tariq, “We are on auto-pilot now.”

“Good lets go get ready to get our mechanic back,” Tariq growled as he left the bridge for the armory.

Previously: Menagerie: The Watering Hole and Menagerie: Caught (Part 3)

“Sir,” the cadet stood at attention, straight enough that she looked like she was vibrating.

“Enter,” Commander Harcon said around a mouthful of food.

“Here are tonight’s reports.”

“Thank you cadet.”

She snapped a tight salute, turned crisply, and marched out of the room.  Harcon remembered when he was like that.  He reached around his dinner, grabbed the tablet, and thumbed up the report.  Scrolling down he dropped the tablet, stood up fast enough that his drink spilled, and bolted out of the door for the bridge.  Everyone in his path got out of his way, snapping salutes, as he ran past them to the lift.

****

“Moe where is the nearest station at,” Tariq asked?

The ship had been limping along with no sign of where their escape pod went.  By the time they got back to the scene of the battle the only thing remaining was some debris floating around.  Moe was checking the computer for information, and everyone else was either working on repairs or resting.

“The nearest station is about two days away.  A merchant way point off the beaten path.”

“Sounds good, maybe we can get some information.  Set course.”

****

Wheez cut the comm-channel with a feral smile.  He had what he needed.

“Long Tongue, change our course and head to the Watering Hole.”

“Why,” Long Tongue asked?

“We have a meeting,” Wheez said with a snarl that said that was all anyone needed to know.

“Making changes.”

Wheez could feel the ship altering course.

****

Fleex sat in his command chair with a loud thud.  Everyone on the bridge looked at him and then quickly looked the other way.  Whatever was trapped in his hold had killed a few crew members and was making any efforts to re-take the hold more difficult than it should be.  His feathered wingtip hovered over a button that would decompress the bay, but that might damage whatever was inside the pod.  There had to be something worth while in that pod.  Fleex checked the sensor readings, they really had not traveled that far since catching the pod, maybe he could find the right “people” to take care of whatever was in his hold.

“Awk take us to the Watering Hole.”

****

Harcon burst out of the lift startling everyone including the two duty guards who leveled their guns at him for a second before lowering them.  He smoothed out his clothing while striding onto the bridge.  Harcon sat in his command chair, checked the senors, checked the duty log, before clearing his throat.

“Navigation, alter our course to these coordinates,” Commander Harcon said as he keyed in the coordinates.

“Aye sir,” the navigator replied.

“Sir,” Second in Command Bain started.

“Yes we will be leaving our sector,” Commander Harcon interupted, “My nose smells prey.”

Previously: Menagerie: Thoughts in Space

Maxius leaned against the the ledge of the port, his nose, then bandit mask, and finally his whole face reflected on the pane of the port.  He looked past his own image, he had been seeing to much of that of late, outside to the stars.  He could make out the moving specs that were ships arriving or leaving the port.  Maxius exhaled, fogging up the port for a second, he wished something exciting would happen.  Anything would be a change from the routine and boredom.  His stomach rumbled and squeezed letting him know that at least his stomach was ready for some routine and boring food.

He hopped down from the pile of boxes that he had stacked together, his ringed tail brushing against the boxes on his way down.  Maxius straightened his belt, moved a couple of the pouches around and headed for the door.  A casual wave at the door sensor opened the door allowing Maxius to stroll out onto the deck above the main floor and below the upper docks.  He was never surprised by the number of animals he saw standing or walking around.  The guards in their deep blue armor were the most obvious walking their patrol routes in pairs.  The bonded crews moving about looking for a bar, food or companionship in their matching uniforms were the largest group.  The independent crews stood out due to their varied outfits that followed no convention that Maxius was familiar with.  He enjoyed watching the ebb and flow of the station, even though the routine never changed.

Maxius looked over the railing down at the main floor, which was as usual packed.  The restaurants, and bars were a constant source of traffic in and out.  The station guards quickly broke up any fights that happened.  The smell of his favorite eatery was in the air making his stomach rumble more.  He patted his stomach as he walked down a flight of stairs to the main floor.  A quick nod, wave or greeting to other station personnel that he knew as he weaved his way through the crowds to Ponder’s.  He looked up at the holo-dock board floating above the central info-terminal.  Most of the docks were empty, a mostly lower docks.  Looked like he was going to have some time to enjoy a meal and maybe some more day dreaming time.

Previously: Menagerie: Caught (Part 2) and Menagerie: On the Trail

Damn donkeys, Wheez thought as he sat back into the command chair.  His right paw found it’s way to his muzzle absent mindedly stroking the bottom as he thought about his next move.  He could just eject them out of the airlock.  No, that wouldn’t work, he wouldn’t get paid and the Tails had told him that the donkey with the blades was connected.  Kill them and move on.  No, while that would be more satisfying to his sense of self and stomach that too would lead to problems.  Wheez didn’t mind a challenge, but he didn’t want to tangle with the law unless he had to, which meant he had was probably going to have to tangle with the law to complete this contract.  What if he could redirect the Iron Hide to a place that was more suitable to him?  Now that was a thought.

****

If Cutter was thinking anything at all, Tally couldn’t tell.  Sitting in their room watching Cutter obsessively sharpen his blades was grating on Tally’s nerves.  He had always thought of himself as a player, but trapped on this ship crewed by predators that obviously wanted to eat him, and partnered with someone who could care less, drove home the point that Tally was a little zeb on a big plain.  Tally just wanted off this ship, but unless he could find a way to speed up the process of finding the cat and the ship she was on he was stuck.

****

Commander Harcon set down the tablet with the information on the last batch of Provisional Recruits.  Quite a bunch, not many with any actual skills, but some fast-training would get most of them up to speed.  The rest would end up in the commissary.  Vice-Admiral Xvious had decided that Harcon’s ship was going to be his new command post and sent off the flagship.  The rest of the fleet was tracking down any leads that they could find, no matter how small. Harcon had to admire Xvious’s hunter’s nature, but his arrogance and getting under foot had long since worn thin.  A quick couple of taps on the virtual keyboard and a holo-image of the white ship appeared on his desktop.  Harcon stared at the image, rotated the image around and then up and over with the touch of his claw.  The image revealed nothing more than he already knew, which was nothing.  Another quick couple of taps on the virtual keyboard and a holo-image of the Iron Hide II and Tariq appeared over his desk replacing the white ship.  Tariq’s service and civilian record appeared alongside his image.  Harcon re-read the file for the fifth of sixth time.  Just what was Tariq involved in was his question, not what Tariq would do, Harcon was positive he knew that.

****

Bilabo was happy that he was a deep sleeper, happy that he kept the pod is good working order, and even happier that he had all of his books and manuals in the pod.  Sleeping behind and underneath the piles, the weasels never found him, never bothered looking for him, he slept and they disappeared.  Now where was he and when was the Captain going to rescue him?

Previously: Menagerie: Caught (Part 1) and Menagerie: Unwanted Help

Two days, six hours, fifty-three minutes.  That was how long Vice Admiral Xvious had kept Commander Harcon jumping through hoops, in meetings, answering pointless questions, and generally being the worst possible commander that Commander Harcon had ever had the displeasure of being around.  There was no private space, no downtime, and no way that Commander Harcon was going to entertain the fool much longer.  The only thing that kept Harcon from ripping out Xvious’s throat was due to the numerous punishments for treason and killing a higher ranked officer.   Harcon shook his head, pushing the hundreth image of him standing over Xvious’s corpse out and returning his attention to the meeting.

“No, Sir I do not have any guesses on the potential capabilities or mission of the white ship,” Harcon stated in a monotone and by memory.

An holo-image of the white ship and the Iron Hide II floated over the middle of the table.  Numerous charts, identification tags and other bits of information floated around both ships; the majority around the Iron Hide II.  Vice Admiral Xvious stood up, leaned over the table, staring intensely at the holo-images as if his stare could conjure or scare forth more information than they had.  With one giant, dun colored paw resting on the table, Vice Admiral Xvious stabbed his other paw through the holo-image of the Iron Hide II causing the image to flicker before reforming around his paw.

“This ship is the key,” Vice Admiral Xvious commanded, “Until this other ship is spotted again we will focus our might upon what we know.  Finding this ship is key.”

Commander Harcon had to admit his surprise, “Sir, I am familiar with that ship and the commander.  We have their drive trail in our files.  Tracking them down will be easy,” Commander Harcon stated with some force.

Everyone at the table looked at him, he knew he may have made a mistake in protocol.  Commander Harcon hated politics.  He was about to make amends when Vice Admiral Xvious sat down, “Excellent.  Send that information to all of the ships of the fleet and the fastest will be released on the trail.”

***

Tally could tell by the scent in the air and by how Wheez’s mane kept changing color from black to red, then back to black that something was not going well.  Only the presence of Cutter standing next to him kept Tally from bolting back to their “room.”  If Cutter noticed anything wrong he was not showing, just his hooves absent mindedly tapping on the ends of his knives.  Tally hoped that Wheez got some information soon because he was positive that the longer that they stayed aboard this ship the more likely that he would find himself in a soup pot.

Wheez turned his head to look at both of them, he licked his lips, “A fellow Captain has told me a tale of the ship you are looking for.  He even told me the last place that they had been seen,” Wheez’s voice dropped quiet and full of menace, “He also told me that the local law is also hot on their trail. What do you know about that?”

Tally was about to take a step backwards and then run to the room, when Cutter stepped forward into Wheez’s personal space, “Is that going to be a problem?  If so, drop us of at the nearest port and we will find a crew that isn’t afraid of a challenge or the law.”

A pin dropped or at least Tally was positive that he heard a pin dropped.  Even the sounds of the bridge and ship seemed to cease.  Then a wheezy, coughing laugh stared.  All sound rushed back to Tally at the same moment, almost knocking him down with the intensity; there stood Cutter and Wheez laughing together, and they didn’t seem to be faking the moment either.

As Tally stood there the image of a giant pot of boiling water flashed before him.

Previously: Menagerie: Filch and Flee! (part 2) and Menagerie: Repairs

Commander Harcon continued down the pristine white hallway towards the mess hall.  His stomach hadn’t stopped growling at him even during the height of the fight with the scav fleet his stomach kept rumbling away.  A deep inhale and he was picking up the scents of fresh meat cooking.  This was going to be good he thought as he patted his stomach.

“Commander Harcon to the bridge.  Commander Harcon to the bridge,” the com-officer’s voice blared from the ship wide com-system.

His ear com-unit beeped at the same time.  Harcon put a paw on the com-unit as he spoke, “What is the emergency Senior Communications Officer Wei?”

“Commander we are being hailed by the Pride of the Pack.  They are ordering us to hold our position until they arrive in an hour.”

“Pride of the Pack,” Harcon said mostly to himself.

“Yes sir,” Wei responded, “Shall I inform them that we are in pursuit of several ships?”

“No,” Harcon snapped and then regretted his snap, “No, Officer Wei.  Contact the Pride of the Pack and inform them that we will be waiting.”

“Yes sir.”

“I will be in the mess hall if there is any other communications from the Pride.”

The com-unit clicked off.  Harcon rounded another corner and entered the mess hall, which was mostly empty.  He got a tray full of food, while his rank afforded him special made meals after a battle he preferred to get the food of his crew and eat with them as a sign of solidarity.  The few off-duty crew members saluted him as he walked by, he nodded back.  Harcon sat down in the middle of the mess hall and started thinking about who was arriving in an hour.

The Pride of the Pack was the flagship of the Outward Fleet, commanded by Vice Admiral Xvious III, nephew of the Sector Lord, some how distantly related to the Royal Family and a complete fool.  Harcon shook his head.  He had never had to deal with Vice Admiral Xvious in person, but he had heard stories from fellow officers and the stories were never good.  The Vice Admiral liked to think of himself as a leader and a feline of action, unfortunately his leadership and actions often resulted in the demotion or death of those following his orders.  What had Harcon done to attract his attention?

An hour later Commander Harcon was in his dress uniform standing at attention with his senior staff on the shuttle deck waiting for the shuttle from the Pride of the Pack which had arrived early.   The shuttle arrived as Harcon gave his senior staff a final look over.  The gold colored shuttle was adorned in more awards, honorifics and symbols than he had seen on some mainline ships of war.  Harcon did a double take when he saw a Distinguish Combat Award painted on the hull next to a side door.

The shuttle pilot was good, the shuttle set down with barely a vibration on the deck.  The side door opened, the steps descended from the side of the ship and immediately booted feet raced down the steps to take up alert positions on the deck facing Harcon and his staff. Six lionesses outfitted in the latest shipboard combat armor holding, at the ready, the latest rapid-firing shipboard rifles.  Their faces impassive as they stared down their sights at Harcon.  Harcon had a brief moment of panic, that rapidly passed, when the lionesses lowered their weapons and one of the lionesses near the steps waved to someone inside the shuttle.

The last person to exit the shuttle took their time walking down the steps, attempting to make an impression with how they took each step, clacking sharply against each step.  Once on the deck where the shuttle door no longer blocked his view Harcon saw that the individual was wearing the male version of the body armor that the lionesses were wearing; all black, clamshell armor with a flexible mesh at the joints.  There were no markings and the helmet made identification impossible, but Harcon knew that underneath the helmet was Vice Admiral Xvious III.  He snapped a salute, his senior staff followed and they held the salute as the armored individual clacked up to Harcon, the lionesses arranged around him in a protective cordon.

The individual reached up, pressed a button, the hiss from the air being released echoed across the bay, and the helmet retracted around the head and into the back of the suit.  Harcon had to admit that he was impressed by the new technology, but unimpressed by the smiling muzzle of Vice Admiral Xvious staring down at him.  Harcon never liked lions, to full of pride, now lionesses he respected them.

“I hear you are having problems with pirates,” Vice Admiral Xvious III boomed at Harcon as he put an armored paw on Harcon’s shoulder pulling him close and directing him to walk with the Vice Admiral, “I am here to help you with that problem.”

Inside his head Commander Harcon saw mental images of him standing over the Vice Admiral with his heart in his hands, and that is the only reason he smiled back at the Vice Admiral as they walked off the deck.

Previously: Menagerie: Filch and Flee (Part 1)

Moe and W.B. stood there looking at a mess, the engine was still running, but Moe could tell just from the noise that the engine was not happy as Bilabo would say.  One of the control panels had been pried apart and the wires pulled out onto the floor.  W.B. looked around, let out a loud whistle and stepped over to the other side of the engine room.

“Moe, nothing seems amiss over here,” W.B. shouted over the noise.  He found a tool kit underneath a shelf, pulled the kit out and moved back to Moe.

Moe was elbow deep in the control panel and focused enough that he didn’t hear W.B. stand next to him.  W.B. opened up the tool kit and started pulling out tools that he thought Moe would need, the first being a light.  The control panel and the depths of wires was illuminated by the light that W.B. was holding over Moe’s shoulders.

“I have no idea what Bil did to this damn thing,” Moe was muttering, “Thanks.”

He was following where the wires went or looked like they went, mostly to no avail.  From what Moe could see Bilabo had re-wired most of this panel, he could only hope that he hadn’t re-wired the basic functions.  Looking over Moe’s shoulder, W.B. could see why Moe was getting frustrated and why finding the lizard was important, everything that he had learned was supposed to be there was now over there or missing altogether.  W.B. tapped Moe on the shoulder.

“Here use this,” W.B. said while handing Moe a couple of tools, “I think some of the basic functions are located on the left side.”

“Glad you can see them.  I just see a mess,” Moe snarled a reply, “Remind me to have a talk to him.  When we find him.”

“Will do.”

Ten minutes, several sparks, one pounding fists on the top of the control panel, one small fire, one fur fire later and the engine was making noises closer to normal.  The panel was more open, the wires were all over the floor and the tool kit was everywhere.  Moe was no longer leaning over into the control panel, but W.B. was underneath the control panel working from underneath while Moe worked from the top down.

“I don’t know what you guys are doing, but we are able to drop out of sub-light now,” Hobb’s voice rang out over the comm system.

****

Harcon stalked down the white halls of his ship listening to the damage reports flowing smoothly into his ear.  An hour after the battle and most of the ship was repaired.  Harcon was justifiably proud of his crew, a single cruiser had taken on a scav fleet, defeated them and had the repairs completed.  Unfortunately they had lost both the mystery ship and the Iron Hide II.  However, he knew that they would pick up the trail soon.  Distracted by another report Harcon rounded the corner and almost walked into the back of a long line of Provisional Recruits waiting processing.  Part of him wanted to make an example of a few of them, but that would be an unnecessary waste of material.

Previously: Menagerie: Volt and Menagerie: Oops

“Moe,” Tariq bellowed as he slapped the panic button on the hatch, “get us out of here NOW!”

Liishi carrying the mystery package, W.B. and Hobbs were running down the hallway to their stations or to buckle in.  The situation had gotten hot quick.  The messenger had “advised” that they leave for their ship seconds before Moe had informed Tariq of the arrival of one ship and then the arrival of Harcon.  They would be given enough time to get back to their ship and away from the messenger’s ship before the messenger would leave.  Nobody knew what that meant, but nobody wanted to stand around and debate the subject especially after Moe informed Tariq that Harcon’s ship was not alone.

Tariq burst onto the crowded bridge, everyone was there except the weasels and Bilabo and they were all looking out the view port.  Moe was maneuvering the Iron Hide II away from the mystery ship, as the ship rotated around for blast off everyone could see a battle between a horde of little ships and Harcon’s ship and the battle was moving closer to them.  Hobbs stabbed a button on a console enhancing the view; at least a dozen scav ships were attempting to take on Harcon’s cruiser.

“Are they crazy,” W.B. asked?

“Affirmative,” Liishi said and then looked around, “The messenger just sent me the all clear.  What were you talking about?”

“Scavs are desperate crazy,” Hobbs replied to W.B, “they will attack anything.”

“Bil shut up,” Moe shouted into the com-system.

One second the white ship was there and then the ship was gone; no drive flare, no flash of light, nothing, just gone.

“Whoa,” everyone said in unison.

****

“Commander the unknown ship just disappeared,” one of the scanner operators informed Harcon.

Harcon was watching the on screen information providing constant information about the scav vessels that were attacking his ship, the  scans on the mystery ship and the Iron Hide II.  He looked down at the operator right after the mystery ship disappeared from his screen.

“Where did it go,” he ordered.

On his display another scav vessel had been disabled, but their combined fire was starting to take a toll on the Claw’s Bared.  A touch of a claw on the screen and a wave of his other paw, sent repair crews to one section and launched the last of the fighters.   Looking at the display he could tell that the Iron Hide II was making their escape and that the scav pack that had attacked him were down to seven vessels capable of fighting.  Another scav icon blinked out of existence as his last fighter wave moved into attack position.

The Iron Hide II jumped, a simple icon change from a box with a label to an arrow showing likely trajectory was the only indication that Harcon had that Tariq had escaped.  The scav pack was still attacking the Claw’s Bared, the ship had suffered enough damage that they were going to have to stay here and repair before resuming the chase, that is if they survived this fight.  One of the scav ship icons changed from identification box to jump arrow, that left four scav ships.

****

Fleex made sure to “attack” enough to look like he was taking part of the attack like any good pack member would, but kept one eye on the scans and as soon as the Iron Hide II jumped he ordered the Carrion’s Delight to follow.  The sqwaks from Tax were cut off as soon as they entered the jump, but Fleex hoped that Tax’s suicidal order to attack a cruiser had resulted in his death.

****

In their room the weasels prepared to make their move.

****

Tally looked over at Cutter as the Death Cackle blasted off from port, “You did notice that they couldn’t stop licking their lips the entire time?”

Cutter patted his trademark knives.  Tally rolled his eyes.

Previously: Menagerie: Rendezvous, Continued (Part 4) and Menagerie: Bad Luck

Ramsey stared hard at the view screen, cocking his head one way and then another.  Neither angle cleared up the image.  On the screen was an old light transport, but next to that was an unidentified white ship.  He banged hard on the side of the scanner with a feathered claw. The image jumped, then returned to normal and still unidentified.  Ramsey knew Scav Leader Faulk was going to start squawking for answers in a second and Ramsey had better have some answers.  He banged on the scanner again, muttering a prayer and curse aimed at the deities of all machinery.

“Ramsey what is that,” Scav Leader Faulk squawked putting extra emphasis on the word that?

When Ramsey craned his head up from the scanner he could see Faulk standing at the front of the bridge, his right feathered claw pointing at the white ship.  Ramsey, shuddered, telling Faulk something he didn’t want to hear often lead to time in the infirmary or a promotion for someone else; that was how Ramsey got this post.

“That is an old Bronco Trans-light Hauler,” Ramsey said stone-beaked.

Faulk’s claw slowly dropped as he turned around, he thrust his bald head forward, his eyes narrowed as he brought Ramsey into line of sight.  Ramsey could swear he could hear Faulk’s clawed feet digging into the deck plating.

“Not the garbage, the treasure.  Care to try again,” Faulk hissed.

Thankfully he stopped moving and returned his gaze to the screen.   Ramsey could see Faulk’s claws in motion; an absent minded movement that Faulk did when he was making plans.  Ramsey returned his gaze to the scanner hoping that something new had popped up the screen.  No such luck.

“Scav Leader,” Ramsey said with as much “respect” as he could, “the scanners do not know what that ship is.  I have no information to provide.”

“Thank you Ramsey,” Faulk said absent-mindedly.

“We are at maximum scanner range for the hauler.  They may know we are here,” Ramsey reported.

“What would you like us to do Scav Leader Faulk,” pilot Ortan asked?

“Warm up the weapons and engines.  Alert the rest of the pack,” Faulk said his claw movements had come to an end.  Ramsey knew he had a plan in mind.

A faint return on the scanner from behind them, must be the rest of the pack catching up.  Still nothing from the white ship.  The hauler’s engines were warming up, Ramsey knew he needed to inform Faulk.

“Scav Leader,” Ramsey began.

“What is it?  Did the scanner give you some information,” Faulk sqawked as he returned to his command chair.

“The rest of the pack will be here in a few moments.  The engines on the hauler are warming up.  I think they know we are here.”

“Quiet! They know nothing!  Is the white ship doing anything,” Faulk was obviously angry at Ramsey’s lack of information.

“I..”

“They are doing nothing,” Faulk shout cut Ramsey off, “Tell Tax to attack the hauler and the rest of the pack to target the white ship! Disable only!  Ortan, move us into attack position!”

With a sharp gesture at the screen their ship moved into position to make an attack run.  Ramsey kept his gaze on the scanner; hopefully he could redeem himself during the battle and avoid being demoted.  The rearward return on the scanner was not breaking up into the smaller signatures that he was expecting.  Something didn’t feel right, but Ramsey wrote that off to the mysterious white ship which still hadn’t made a move that the scanner could pick up.  He looked up to see what position their attack was making on the vid screen when the scanner made a ping-alert sound that he knew too well.

Ramsey looked down at the scanner.  The rearward return went from unidentified to FNV Claw’s Bared.  Ramsey started to shout out a warning.

****

“Move us into attack position.  Target the Iron Hide II.  I want prisoners,” Captain Harcon ordered from his command chair.  Watching the ship slice through the debris of another scav-ship put a smile on his face.  A smile that caused the crew to look away from him when he was displaying his “smile.”  Very soon, Harcon thought, very soon Tariq would be his.