Wakuran Escape Vessel Flying Through Space - [Closed]

Out of a sudden, two fighters jumped somewhere in the system. The first one was clearly a Colonial fighter, a Wyvern MKIV to be more specific, but slightly damaged. The other one, with its combination of white metal and dark xenomorphic tissue was clearly an Invader fighter, the so called raider. The Colonial wasn't exactly in the best position, being closely followed by the Invader.

Inside the cockpit, the Colonial pilot was breathing a little heavily, wearing the classic Colonial fighter pilot suit, with the included helmet and breathing mask. Despite his best efforts, he just couldn't get that damned fighter off his tail. And with every salvo, the Invader was closer and closer to hitting him. Even if he didn't like it, he had to try a more risky maneuver. Risky because it really forced the pilot to support a pretty hard gravitational acceleration. And if it failed.. well, death.

Taking a deep breath, the Colonial really accelerated, followed by the Invader behind him who also did the same. Nearly... a little more... a little more... now. Carefully watching the speed indicator, the Colonial suddenly turned off the main engine, activating the smaller ones used for maneuvering in the opposite direction. Rolling around, the Wyvern barely avoided the raider coming in from behind. But now, the raider was in the front. Before the Invader was able to stop and turn around, the Colonial accelerated, fired one of his torpedoes, damaging it, and ended it with a few blasts from his main batteries. It was over. For now..

Relieved, the Colonial stopped down. He had no idea where he was right now, or if he had enough fuel to return. But at least, that damned Invader was dead. Before he was able to spend a few quiet moments though, the sensors detected another ship in the system, seemingly sending some sort of a distress beacon from time to time. More out of reflex, the Colonial locked down three torpedoes on it. Who knows what stopped him from firing, but he decided to ask before shooting, a rare thing in this place and time. The Wyvern opened comms with the unknown ship, that was surely more that aware now that it had torpedoes locked down on it.

"Unknown ship, please identify yourself or you will be considered hostile."

Just as usual, the message was sent in a pack of languages from all across the galaxy. The Colonial pilot remained ready to fire, waiting for a response.

"Coming out of hyperspace in half a minute! Brace for real space!" said a man in a pilot's chair. The others on the ship hurried to their seats, knowing their patron had flatly refused to pay for buffers. The gut-wrenching lurch came, a feeling that Confederate pilots never really got used to.

"Ugh," one of the men said in a sickened tone of Middle Confederate. "I don't care what those damn Navy grunts say, the transition to real space is something you never get used to." He wore a long coat of brown leather, boots made from the white leather of a Maarloxian ice cat, black jeans, and a dark grey shirt. A long K-3 laser rifle hung on his back, something he'd been allowed to keep from his days in the planetary guards that had first engaged the Enemies Of Humanity, back when they had been actual rebels. He was a human in his early thirties and the clear muscle on the ship. He had dark brown hair, muscular build, a height of six foot one, light brown eyes, fair skin and his name was Weston Miller.

"My thoughts exactly," said a new voice. She had the light blue skin of a Dothvalian woman, but unlike most of her kind, she didn't wear refrigeration armour. She wore regular clothing of deep silver and red. Her boots were black as space, her pants were red, and above was a silver shirt with grey stripes along the sleeves. She had an excellent face, with medium blue eyes set off by high cheekbones and a thin but muscular figure. A pair of grey CI-46 pistols hung at her hips, along with numerous boxes of photon charges concealed inside her boots. A few grenades were on her belt. Her hair was also a deep black, and she went by the name Nyla Tallahn. Tallahn stood at five foot eleven.

As for the pilot, he wore a shirt with pictures of Confederate mountains all over it. The shirt annoyed most of the crew, who thought it was an odd fashion statement. He also wore black jeans, and a black jacket of thick polyester. His hair was a lighter brown, his skin was fair, and his eyes were green. The man was named Bill Tycks, and he stood at 5 foot nine.

Finally, there was a doctor aboard, dressed finer than the rest of the crew. She had dark blonde hair, fair skin, and hazel eyes. She wore a jacket of ice cat leather as well as thick jeans of special materials, and an insulated weapons belt, but still the doctor shivered. She was Dr Katelyn Henry, and she stood at five foot ten, just like Nyla. She said in an annoyed tone, "Why are you making the rest of us risk hypothermia when you could simply cover up? I'd like to be above freezing for a few minutes!"

"Shut up, Sawbones," Nyla said casually. "And to answer your question for the tenth time, because I'm the captain. When I found all of you, you were all on bad terms with the Confederate government. You all enjoyed what you were doing, you just didn't like the needs plus pennies, generous as both were, you were paid. Don't like the way I keep my ship, you're welcome to go home." Nyla then examined the sensor readings, and saw where they were. She delivered a hard smack to the back of Bill's head and said, "Bill, you idiot! You were supposed to take us to dark space in Andromeda for the rendezvous! At best, we lost a sale, and at worst, we have a hit on us! This is the Milky Way, and there are two smaller ships here. How much you want to bet they call local authorities, whoever those are?"

"It's not my fault you use a nav computer that's got pre-intergalactic War star charts," Tycks said as he rubbed the back of his head. "With those kind of charts, everything beyond Triangulum and the Confederacy is unmapped speculation. If you'd buy some proper charts, we wouldn't have this problem. It happens a lot you know."

Sighing, Nyla said evenly, "Never mind my stinginess. We have a situation to salvage. I don't know what one of those spacecraft is, but the other is a Colonial starfighter. Hopefully they see we're a mostly unarmed cargo ship." There actually was a laser cannon turret at one part of the ship, but it was rarely used. The ship itself was about the size of a small cargo freighter of early Confederate design. The cargo hold would probably hold one or two of the full Colonial fighters, about four or five of them if the ships were disassembled. Speaking of disassembled, Nyla had come to deal surplus weaponry from the Confederacy. All over Triangulum, the EOH had left arms caches and hideouts after the Terror Wars, and many were filled with free Confederate laser weapons worth a fortune in Andromeda, whose population mostly only produced plasma based weapons. For now, the crew of the ship waited.

Hearing the loud warning of a weapons-lock warning. "You don't scrimp on those early warning systems, do you bos?" Miller noted sarcastically.

Ignoring the jab, Nyla hurried to answer the message. She said quickly, "Colonial starfighter, this is my ship. It's mostly unarmed, except for two laser cannon turrets. Not enough to do much against a government ship, but good enough to kill pirates and pop asteroids. That being said, I've done work for important people in Triangulum, enough to have some of the best shields civilians can buy. We're from the Confederacy. We usually sell our guns in Andromeda, but my idiot pilot misread the star charts again, and we have to wait for the hyperdrive to recharge. And I think you can relax. That ship looks damaged, and nothing we have will damage yours. My name is Nyla Tallahn, and the ship is called Renegade."

Receiving the message, the Colonial relaxed, unlocking the torpedoes. Still, the fighter was surely the fastest thing around, and his two kinetic and two laser cannons were still there, so it wasn't like the was in any danger.

"Alright. My name is Wilhelm Naskrent, I'm a Leutnant in the Kriegsflotte. I somehow got her after chasing an Invader fighter."
Then, the Colonial stopped for a few moments, noticing the Wakuran ship.
"What about that damaged ship? It seems to have no comms. Can we help it in any way.?"

Upon being brought aboard, a small hatch atop the vessel opened as it powered down its engines. Slowly, the girl rose out of the hatch, rifle first and with her breathig mask over her face. She was nervous, and only stuck halfway out of the hatch just in case anything bad happened.

The small vessel didn't have the advanced translators of the larger Wakuran ships, and as such the girl simply stared at the two confusedly. A moment later she went back down into the ship, emerging with her plant, climbing out of the ship with her gun in tow. She dropped off the top of the ship, landing on her backside with a thud. She seemed fine though, stumbling to her feet with her plant in handm the gun left on the flood so she didn't seem threatening. She didn't speak, simply looking at the two with a worried look on her face.

"Welcome aboard," Kate said evenly to the Colonial pilot. "I'm Dr Katelyn Henry, but you can call me Kate. Keep that flight suit on. Captain just raised the temperature enough that she has to cover up, but it's still not warm by any means."

She then asked the Colonial as she pointed to the alien, "Any idea what this one is? She doesn't seem to speak Universal Standard, I know she won't speak Dothvalian, and the Confederacy doesn't have much record of Milky Way aliens." At that, Kate took a small bite from a nutrient bar to demonstrate it was safe to eat, at least for humans, and then handed it to the alien, along with a wrap of insulating fabrics. Kate found it odd that the creature wasn't shivering, and suspected shock may be the culprit. The doctor only hoped that the alien would accept their help.