• Nobles of Null is a forum based roleplay site where sci-fi and magic collide. Here, Earth remains fractured and divided despite humanity reaching out to the stars. Worse still, the trans-human slaves of one major power have escaped, only to establish their own Empire, seething with resentment at abuses of the past. Even the discovery of aliens, though medieval in development, has failed to rally these squabbling children of Earth together with its far darker implications. Worse still, is the discovery of the impossible - magic. Practiced by the alien locals, nearly depleted and therefore rare, its reality warping abilities remains abstract and distant to the general populace. All the while, unseen in the darkness of space, forces from without threaten to press in. For those with eyes opened by insight, it is clear that an era is about to end, and that a new age will dawn.

Chapter 3: Past Battles, Old Nightmares

Ray of Meep

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Co-authored by Ray of Meep (GM), Acewing13, Ikate Keda Studios, TheCountryWarrior

???? A.D., 84 hours after Edith Dussault's interrogation

High orbit of Daimler, aboard the Holsteiner

The Lancers were in the relatively cramped quarters of the stealth corvette. Eberhard was dressed properly in a vac-rated suit, his helmet hanged off his belt and floated in midair while he maglocked himself to the floor. The Holsteiner already decoupled from Daheim One a few hours ago, while the mothership itself hid on the local, friendly law enforcement spaceport, having revealed its location on Castle Services by the weapons dealer Edtih Dussault before her passing.

Once the crew gathered around him, Eberhard lit up a 3D hologram in the middle of them, showing the local Daimler dwarf planetary system. On it was highlighted several objects: the dwarf planet itself, Castle Services and an unfamiliar Volksschiff-class coming out of the spaceport, with its predicted trajectory out of the system illustrated, the Holsteiner on intercept course.

Eberhard didn't waste time before starting the briefing. "Based on the port number she [Edith Dussault] gave us, we managed to link it to a supply frigate by the name of Gluck, 'Good fortune.'"

"The vessel was registered to deliver food and water to the spaceport; nothing suspicious there, nor in its available travel logs. We're going to do a breach-and-board again, as we did with Matchstick: neutralize hostiles, commandeer the vessel, keep at least one person alive for interrogation. The ship's schematics have been sent to your PDB's, though given the short notice, the information on hand isn't as well-verified. Given it's a Volksschiff, we anticipate its security systems will be better than Matchstick's. Just stay adaptable, as usual."

Joan looked at the Hologram, but no one could see her face. She never took her helmet off on the Corvette.

Beatrix on the other hand had her helmet at her side, while focusing on her PDB. "By security systems, are you talking about the ship-to-ship weapons or more internal measures?" she asked, looking up at Eberhard.

"It'll likely to be both." Eberhard replied. "By default, Volksschiffs carry anti-ship and anti-ballistic missiles to discourage piracy. High profile targets, like our own Daheim, have PDC placements and the sensor suites to make them effective. That's less of a concern though, since we'll be intercepting them under the best stealth conditions possible this time. The main problem for you guys will be the internal security. The hull will be rad hardened, meaning wireless communications to the outside will be blocked unless you have an external transponder. The whole structure tougher in general, which means you'll need a longer time breaching. The more complete sensor suite allows for better preparation against boarders, and every bulkhead in the command module and engine modules are doubled up."

"Dat's nerve wracking," Joan said crossing he arms slowly to avoid floating off. "Ah mean, once inside we'll 'ave ta blow our way frough each bulk'ead," She said, rubbing her arms. "I jus' can' 'elp bu' fink dey knah we're comin. We're gonna 'ave ta pull somefin ou' ov an 'at," She added looking over the hologram some more. "We should do dis as if we are 'ryin ta sneak up on dem under a spo'ligh'. I don' like i' bu' dat's wha' ah fink."

"Agreed." Eberhard nodded. "Blenda and I will go through the routine of disabling their outer defenses first. We'll have our RCS on standby and get ready for maneuvering as we get in range. Once you're inside, the Holsteiner won't be able to assist without you laying down comms." He then offered, "Do you want me to come with you guys this time?"

"No," Joan said quickly. "We need you 'ere. I jus' knah dis isn' gonna be as flawless as our las' 'oo missions. We need ta keep dis 'igh' as possible. Got it?" She asked, looking at Beatrix and Juan.

Bee nodded back before looking at the hologram again. "Did we bring enough explosives? Might want to chuck grenades in everytime we clear a room," she said.

"I've got my fair share of them." Juan had been quiet, helmet on his head as he mentally prepared himself. "So we're doing an individualist siege. Meaning we're gonna be blowing doors down almost as much as we're shooting the enemy. Not impossible, but definitely subpar. We'll be fine guys, this one's just another test of mettle. They don't stand a fucking chance."

An hour later, as the Lancers waited in the storage bay, the Holsteiner’s engine whirled to life beneath them, and red alert lights lit up. “Commencing flyby. Engine online, weapons online. Communication scramblers, launched. Maneuvering to match enemy trajectory.” Blenda informed through the speakers.

The corvette’s PDCs roared in several second bursts, the RCS thrusters pushing and pulling the ship and those onboard in seemingly random directions. After a few minutes of cacophony and a minute of silence afterwards, the lights turned yellow, before the ship came to a relative stop, then green, as the airlock opened up, revealing the Gluck’s battered command module in front of the Lancers, and the rest of the ship stretching further “downwards”.

Besides the many holes in the missile pods, the now non-existent point defense cannons, and the engine module down below that’s now leaking fuel; it was a familiar site, with the overall structure an almost 1-to-1 replica of Daheim One, but with traditional GDW colors of turquoise and grey, with the Silbern system’s own color, white, as an accessory. The command module before the Lancers had the size of an AU suburban home, fitted with the now dysfunctional missile pods, sensor arrays, RCS thrusters, and two airlocks, one on each side.

Bee kicked off into the black, looking at the exterior of the enemy ship as she drifted towards it. “Does this thing have power still?” she asked, keeping an eye out for any movement or other activity.

“If they haven’t skimped out on spending, then the Gluck should still have auxiliary power through its fuel cells.” Eberhard informed them while comms were still available.
 

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Joan floated towards the ship, landing on the hull of the ship, her boots locking her down and sweeping the visual airlocks while the rest of the team did their job. “A’ight 'eam. We're goin ta breach dis doaw. Keep your loaf low, we're goin ta 'ope dese folks don' 'ave vacuum sui's on,” She said, signalling Juan to start laying the breaching charges. “Try not ta git shot! We won' 'ave air inside!”

Juan followed the plan, laying the breach charges for a game of “Sudden Houseguest”. “Knock knock!”

The initial breaching charge blew open the airlock, as expected. But before the team could swarm in, a secondary door shut right on them.

“Guess the pressure sensors are still working,” Bee said, getting back to a safe distance.

It took a second breaching charge to blow open the airlock for good, allowing them to enter the airlock compartment. Before another twin set of charges could be applied, a salvo of rifle bullets pierced through, impacting Beatrix’s shield. Juan had to stick to the walls to apply the explosives. The further rupturing of the airlock pushed the broken metal panels up against Beatrix. The two gunmen inside were held in place by maglocks, but their suffocating bodies were dragged forward by the airflow, like wilting flowers in a storm. Joan scooted past Beatrix from the side and put them out of their misery with two well placed bursts of rifle fire.

“They knew we were going to come through the airlock, but didn’t put suits on?” Bee asked, sighing as she maglocked to the deck of the ship.

"Dey didn't 'ave enough time," Joan said sharply, pulling her backpack off and pulling out a magnetic pod, setting it in the airlock. "We're going ta 'ry in keep con'act wif command," she said, looking at Juan. " 'ow're da charges coming along?"

“Hold your horses Cowboy, they’re just about done.” Juan has just finished with the charges, setting them up to blow even further into the belly of the ship. “Knock knock, it’s cold out here.”

The doubled up bulkhead blew open predictably, revealing a small cavity that split two ways, serving no other purpose than to slow down any intrusion. According to the schematics, one path led down to another corridor that split into the personnel-armory and crew quarters, another path led down to the ship-armory and one of two life-support cores. Through the Lancers’ feet, they could feel faint traces of movement around the ship, but otherwise nothing was stopping their advance for now.

Their comms beeped and interrupted the relative silence. “Alright, seems like a good link now. What’s your status?” Eberhard came through the comms.

Joan held up her hand looking around the ship. "Ah don' like dis," she said, pulling up the schematics to the ship. "Ah don' like dis at awl" she said, mag locking herself to the hull. "Cobalt, I fink ah'm call da assault," she said, ordering the rest of the team to lock down.

“Like I said, a siege on an individual level. Not fun, pretty, or easy.” Juan however, was not fazed. “We’ve got the charges for this, we’re gonna be fine.”

"Yer right Bandit," Joan said, looking at Juan. "But, does ya know 'ow dey dealt wif seiges in dem times?" She asked, clicking to Eberhard. "Cut da ship in 'alf. We kin s'arve em out, er at least hamper their movement."

“...” Eberhard didn’t reply for a minute, before replying, “We do have the firepower to make it happen, but it’ll be like taking a saw to foam; it’s less cutting persay, and more ripping seizable chunks out of the ship that happen to keep it together. I assume you want the engine module removed?”

"As close to the command module as possible, get the drones ready to stop the two pieces from pulling apart," she said, uneasiness in her voice. "With Edith gone three days ago, they must have gotten suspicious," she said, looking at the group. "I hope you guys don't take me for a coward. We'll starve the fight out of them up here, go check the cargo. Something about this is digging at me."

“Better to be an alive ‘coward’ than a dead fool,” Bee said, giving exaggerated air quotes to get her point across. “So long as we’re not surprised by another ship, we’ve got time.”

“This isn’t cowardice, this is tactics. Let’s do it.” Juan kept his weapon nearby just in case, but this plan may just about do their job for them.

As the Lancers got ready to leave and step back into the staging compartment, they felt airlocks opening and gusts of air released upon them, then heavy and rapid footsteps that grew louder and louder through the team’s armor.

“Flashbangs!” Joan yelled. Juan dutifully tossed one as the Lancers darkened their visors. Bee moved up between the team and the footsteps, raising her shield just in time to receive a hail of rifle fire. She was the first to see a hulking figure that took up almost all of the corridor before she was slammed into the opposite wall by its entire weight, while Joan and Juan got out of the way just in time.

A second of inspection revealed the figure was wearing metallic armor head-to-toe, assault rifle in one hand, rotary hull-cutter in the other. Despite the heavy-wear, their limbs were clearly non-human, but rather animalistic, and their helmet was shaped as if a snout was to fit underneath it. As they shook their head, still recovering from the flashbang, one could almost hear a growl.
 

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Bee grunted as she recovered from her unexpected flight, shaking her head as she got her bearings. Looking ‘up’, she saw the armored assailant and grit her teeth in anger. Mightily pissed off, she stabilized herself and fired a couple of rounds at the newcomer’s head, before flashing her shield’s lights. “You guys better get a fucking plan together,” she said over the radio, before kicking off a nearby wall and firing as she went. “Soooo not in the mood at the moment.”

"Keep moving,"Joan shouted, also firing at the Chongwu. "Avoid da ‘ull cutter. Is big, but i's dumb," she added, looking at Juan. "Keep i' distrac'ed, ah need ta ge' be'ind i'!"

The peashooter dinged the beast in the helmet twice, knocking their head back, but they turned it back seemingly annoyed. They fired a burst into the shield, but, failing to pierce it, raised their hull cutter and swung it straight down, the spinning blade biting into the shield and sending sparks flying.

Juan was shocked this sort of beast could just be bought and used, by pirates of all people. He preferred earth, where people fought people, and sometimes there would be a robot. Easy shit. But at least he could get an idea of where Joan was going with this, or it would be his own spin on it. He ducked behind the beast while it was focused on cutting the shield, did a brief, half second long check of his equipment, and slapped a fucking breach charge on it’s back. “KNOCK KNOCK! BEE, RUN!” He set the timer going, and yanked Joan down the hall, his jets on overdrive in a classic case of getting the fuck out of there.

"LOSE THE SHIELD!" Joan shrieked, trying and failing to fight against Juan pulling her away.

Beatrix managed to tear her arm off her shield, but not before the blade slid down into it, tearing through her suit and flesh, spilling her blood into the vacuum. As Beatrix instinctively covered her injury with her free hand, the Chongwu threw the shield to the side and prepared its rifle.

The timer beeped to zero, with the breaching charge blowing a fiery hole through the beast. Burnt flesh and molten metal sprayed onto Beatrix’s armor, singeing it in black and grey splotches.

“Fuck, fuck, oh fuck,” Bee said, before turning off her radio and letting herself scream in pain. Years of training then kicked in as she pulled out a patch, slapped it on the suit, and mag locked herself to the nearest bulkhead.

Joan tore herself out of Juan's grip, putting the jet pack to some good use. "Call a medivac!" She shouted, landing next to Beatrix hard and kneeling down, locked to the hull. "We got you Bee, turn your radio back on, I need you to talk to me," she said, pulling a tourniquet from the medic’s belt and starting work applying it. "This ain't the time to act though."

Juan got on comms and started giving information in that commanding, sudden and intense way soldiers do when not currently under fire in a pressing situation. With that thought in his head, he watched to the enemy as he called Eberhard. “We have wounded, need medivac, Bee is wounded and needs assistance.”

“Roger that.” Eberhard responded coldly in response. “I’m on my way down. Cobalt out.”

Juan backed up to the girls, standing between them and the most likely point of enemy contact. “Medivac is on its way!”

Bee nodded in reply to Joan’s comments, but instead of turning on her radio, she tried moving her fingers on her cut arm. Thankfully, they still moved. Unfortunately, that movement sent spikes of pain up her arm. She let herself cry for a few moments, before turning on her radio. “Arm’s not broken, nerves still intact,” she said, looking at the other woman as she went through her triage. “Hurts like hell, but I should be good, besides the shock that should hit any second now.”

Down the corridor from which the Chongwu charged, several pirates in space suits surged forward wielding submachine guns. Juan didn’t let them fire a single shot, ducking and allowing a well disciplined line of lead to fly forward, sending two gunmen tumbling backward, the rest ducking behind the corner for cover. There was an attempt of blind fire, but it either missed entirely or pinged off what was left of the corpse.

" ‘old tight Bee," Joan said, grabbing her shield and setting it on Bee to give her some cover, pulling a frag out of her belt, pulling the pin and launching it down the hallway. The grenade flew forward in a straight line, then exploded, sending shrapnel into the cover and yielding scraps of suit garment and bits of flesh.

Eberhard floated in, holding his own submachine gun. After checking down the hall Juan and Joan were firing down, he maglocked to the floor to examine Beatrix’s wound. His face contorted in disgust. “That’s way too much blood. I’ll get you back to the medbay immediately. Cowboy, let’s go with your proposal. Retreat back to the Holsteiner.”

Bee looked like she was going to argue, before shaking her head and nodding. “Yeah, let’s get out of here,” she said, holding her injured arm to her chest as she disengaged her maglock and fired her jets to get her out of the enemy ship.

“Me an' da Spaniard will cover ya,” Joan said, looking at Juan. “I’m no' le''in you 'oo chip wifou' makin sure yer back on da ship,” She said, nodding her head at the man, turning back to Bee and Eberhard. “You 'oo ge' ou' ov 'ere. I doub' dese fuckers can affawd 'oo ov dese fings.”

“Agreed.” Juan nodded, still watching the corridor like a hawk. ‘Let’s start moving back, and keep an eye on the points of contact. Once we’re free, let’s crack open this tin can.”

Beatrix and Eberhard made their way back to the Holsteiner first. Joan grabbed Juan by the shoulder before he could go, setting up a secure line. “How much do you trust me?” She asked. “I’ve got an addition to the plan, but if you’d rather head back to the ship, then we’ll go,” She said, keeping her eye on where the pirates would likely come from.
 

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Juan needed little convincing, though he spent most of his attention on the corridor as well. “I trust you. What do you have in mind? As long as we can get it done in relative time before they start cracking the ship.”

“Tha’s the fing,” Joan said, moving to lean against the wall. “We knah where dey are goin ta star' crackin. Da main stem. We’re 'rained ta opera'e on ships bein a'acked. I' doesn’ ma''ah who's a''acking, aw who’s ship it is. Dese guys’ll probably be shi''in dere pan's, we can use da cover ov da assaul' ta mask our breachin.”

Juan chuckled in disbelief. “You’re insane. Let’s give it a shot.”

Joan nodded. “Cobal', you ge' bee ta safe'y, an' ge' 'er pa'ched up. Me an' da Spaniard will si' 'igh'. When yer ready, star' da attack, we’ll use i' as cover ta keep movin in.”

“... Roger that, good luck.” Eberhard replied, before cutting out.

It took a few minutes for Eberhard to return to the ship and get Beatrix settled into the medbay. Needles filled with biotics, painkillers, and disinfectants were stabbed into her injured arm and a pressure tube was secure attached to it to facilitate normal blood circulation in the zero-g environment.

“Point defense cannons, online.” Blenda informed through the comms as the Holsteiner moved into position. Joan and Juan maglocked themselves onto the walls and braced for impact, which happened within seconds, as depleted uranium rounds surgically tore through the Gluck, ripping its command module off the rest of the ship. Despite the violent vibrations and sway, Joan and Juan managed to navigate through the corridors, shooting anyone who got in their way and blowing door after door, finally coming upon the bridge, standing off in front of the captain who had his hands raised up in the air. Without atmosphere, Juan and Joan got the impression that he was surrendering through his panicked facial features and the movement of his lips, through his visor.

“Call off da bombardmen',” Joan said, lowering her rifle. “We've go' da Cap'ain, goin ta quesshun 'im ta see 'ah many people should be lef',” She added, floating over to the Captain and giving him a quick pat down before punching him as hard as she could in the stomach. “ ‘elp me get ‘im in’ah dat ‘all ovah dere,” She said, her voice going cold, dragging him to another door where there was actual air. “Ah wanna ‘alk wif ‘im.”

There was a brief struggle as the Captain uselessly flailed his limbs in zero-g. Once Joan threw him into the air-filled chamber, he asked, not bothering to take off his helmet. “Alright, you’re with the police, right? What do you want from me?”

Meanwhile, Juan was left alone in the bridge with several consoles ripe for pulling data off of.
 

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Joan drew her pistol and pointed it at the captain. “ ‘ake off yer ‘elmet. Den Ah’ll decide if’n ah wants yer fucking ansahs, got it?” She snapped, pulling back the hammer.

He obliged, pulling it off, revealing middle-aged features, a stressed out look, disheveled hair and beard. Joan reached over and took the helmet from him, stepping back. “Now, dis is ‘ow i’s gonna go from ‘ere, got it?” She asked, clipping the helmet to her belt. “Yer gonna give me wha’ ah wanna know, er ah’m gonna shoot out dat airlock and den ya’ll be on crunch time. Cause da las’ persun ‘oo fought we was coppah’s found our real quick we wasn’t. ‘Ow many people should be lef’ on da ship?”

Realizing what Joan was going to do to him, the captain nodded in a panic. “You killed most of them already. Two are in engineering, and two were in the storage bay. Whether they’re alive or not anymore, I don’t know.”

“Good, much easiah den da last,” Joan said, relaxing just a little. “Wha was it ya were transpor’in? And ‘oo was da fucker ‘oo fought up da fucking attak dog, eh?” She asked, anger cutting into her voice.

“Two crates of weapons, military grade, worth millions of credits.” The captain replied. “I don’t know where they came from, they sent them over at a random point on our way to the Daimler gate. And I bought the Chongwu.” He admitted, then his face grew even more panicked in response to Joan’s visible anger. “It was my boss’s idea! He left a recording! Saying it’ll help me get out of this mess!”

“Boss,” Joan growled, pushing the captain against the wall, pistol firmly under his jaw. “Name. Now.”

“No idea! No idea! He just gives us orders and calls himself Bossman!” He threw his hands up.

“Das it?” She asked, throwing the captain onto the floor and stepping on him. “Really? ‘Ere, dis wha we gonna do eh?” She asked, lifting her rifle with one hand and shooting the airlock, air starting to hiss out of the hole. “Yer gonna start telling me anyfing you fink is impor’ant, an if ya tells me somefing good, ah’ll give back yer ‘elmet. Das da deal, start talking,” She ordered.

“I couldn’t tell you even if I wanted to!” The captain started tearing up. “We go about moving stuff around in the system, and we get times when to prepare for cargo to come onboard and a paycheck from the next ship that sends us stuff. We delete all the data that comes with each of these intercepts as requested!”

“You’s better figure somefing out mate,” Joan growled. “Ah’m starting to fink dere ain’t nuffing you can do ta make ya worf da time in energy it would take ta save ya,” She said, looking at the door. “Yer time is running out. Ah’m reading ‘alf an a’mosphere in ‘ere. Yer not gawna be able tah fink clearly pre’ay soon.”
 

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“I’m telling you, Bossman left a recording in the ship’s database, it’ll tell you everything! Please give me the helmet!” He pleaded.

“Yer fucking pafetic,” Joan grumbled, leaning down and jamming the helmet back on the guy’s head. “Figure it out,” She ordered, keying up Juan and Eberhard. “You two ‘ear bout da recordin?”

“Roger Cowboy, if you and Bandit can link up to the console, I can access it and let you play it on your HUDs.” Eberhard chimed in.

“Already on it Cobalt.” Juan has started chewing through files as soon as Joan had pulled the info from the hapless pirate captain turned captive.

It didn’t take long for Eberhard to sift through the readily apparent files; there wasn’t much there other than a single video, and even that was pretty small. The HUDs’ video players opened up.

The video feed would show a backlit person, their front covered in an electronically enhanced shadow that kept their outline and general features hidden. Of course someone was making sure that their well tailored suit was quite visible right down to the impossibly high thread counts of the material itself. "You know you shouldn't take something that doesn't belong to you, but we both know you're going to walk away with this ship's cargo... so why don't we help each other out? Liquidate this ship and crew for me then you can consider the cargo as payment for a job well done."

Juan stared at the individual for a second, but had no time for this man’s begging. He ignored the Pirate Lord, continuing to sift through for info. Speaking on coms to the team he asked, “Are y’all seeing this?”

Joan nodded her head, despite being in the other room. “Yeah, ah’m not payin it much mind,” She said, dragging the captain to his feet and marching him out onto the CNC Deck. “Is not ‘ard ta figure we’re comin. So dey put dis vidiah inta da ship, tell dese ‘uckle’eads ta not watch it, in try tah intimidate us. Despera’e sho’ in da dark.”

“My thoughts exactly.” Juan ignored the desperate plea as he sifted through their dirty files. “It would be a tempting offer if I wasn’t such an honest ho. I’m still looking for the info, this glorified pop up ad is still here.”

“Well Les git dis fellah ovah to da ship,” Joan said pulling the captain along. “Den we’s kin go in secure da weapons,” She explained, floating through the ship with the captain in tow.

It didn’t take long to throw him into the Holsteiner’s storage bay, where Eberhard was waiting with cuffs. Before Juan and Joan headed out again, Eberhard commented, “Preliminaries show that Bee’ll get to keep her arm, but the gash was pretty nasty. It might take awhile before she can use it without hurting herself.”

With that information, Joan and Juan ventured back into the void, now flying “down” below the command module. As planned, the Gluck was beheaded. The tearing revealed the cross section of the central spine that linked the command module to the rest of the ship, and the large cavity that was the storage bay, at least ten stories deep. In the central spine, Joan and Juan could see a broken elevator tube and a stairwell, which seemed to be locked down further down by emergency airlocks. Nonetheless, the storage bay was exposed to space and relatively easy exploration.

Juan looked at the devastation in a quiet awe, before shaking himself out of it. “We ripped it’s goddamn spine out. That’s a new one for me. Nice thinking Cowboy.”

"Ah 'preciate dat Spaniard," Joan said, poking her head into the ship and looking around. "So, ah was wonderin, maybe we could 'ave anovvah night tagevvah," she said, her voice tense. It was pretty obvious she was trying to keep the mood light, despite there being four potential hostiles on the ship.

Juan was surprised this was coming up at all, considering the continuing combat operation. “You know this isn't really the best time for this Cowboy.” He had still been watching like a hawk, but his voice softened from die hard soldier to his natural voice. “But I wouldn’t mind that. I miss the warmth of someone else there. Are you certain?”

"It's 'ave dis convahsa'ion," Joan said, slipping further into the ship, just as tense, "or seeving rage. Ah njoy dis more," she explained, letting herself float through the behemoth storage container. "Ah mean, ah enjoyed it fer shore yeah? Ah just dun wanna impose or nuffing. We did jus' 'ave a big Gab bout us not bein in a relationship in such…"

“Right.” Juan nodded along, feeling strangely awkward on a battlefield. ‘It’s not imposing at all, actually I think it would be nice for both of us. Not too much to read into yeah? Just keeping the team’s morale and sanity on the up and up.” He chuckled quietly. “Professional snuggling, purely to empower the team, obviously.”

"Yeah," Joan said landing on the other side of the storage hangar. "Ah mean… sorry for the kiss… Far from professional in such."

“Oh no, that was quite alright. Glad to help… tide you over for a bit.” Juan landed beside her, still watching like a hawk, but smiling under his helmet. “Purely to keep up team morale, of course.”

" 'ow far is dat excuse gonna take ya?" She asked, a laugh creeping into her voice. " 'ave me on me 'ands in knees, purely to keep up team morale," she said, mocking an American accent.
 

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He felt at ease, and he was wary that this was not the situation to feel at ease in. He couldn’t stop a quick laugh from spilling out though. “If it ever gets to that point either morale will be sky high or we’re both drunk. So, the morale will be sky high anyway.”

"Yeah, well, ah could git yer morale pre'ay 'igh I Fink's, if we wasn't trying ta be professional in such." Joan commented flippantly, walking along the wall, walking towards a few boxes clamped to the central spine.

Juan followed after her, silently geeking out that he gets to walk on walls and ceilings. “Yeah… purely professional.” His voice had a hint of disappointment that he covered with his soldier voice to only marginal success.

"Ah mean," she giggled. "Somefing about me is good fer more Dan butchering languages," she said as she reached the crates. They were something else, size wise. "Cobalt, we found da weapons," she added, quickly switching from team com back to the one way. "Was all da last guy fought it was good fer."

“Well I’m glad to hear your mouth can multitask. Will admit, talking is what’s gotten us to survive so far, so I’m of the mindset that as long as the things people are saying have a point, they’re good for more than happy fun times.” Juan held up a finger to accentuate his point. “But happy fun times are pretty sweet too.”

"Maybe one day I'll demonstrate then," she said, shooting out the locks and opening the door to reveal quite the shipment of weapons. "God, da coppahs would cream emselves ovah dis dey would."

“Holy shit, I might just do it right now. We don’t get to keep any do we?” He looked the goods up and down, smiling in satisfaction. “Almost done with the job then, all that’s left is the goons.”

"Ah, well," Joan said, looking at Juan. "If ya blow ovah dis, ah might worry," She teased as she walked out of the crate.

“I’m not sure you can top a massive crate of guns in terms of raw physical attraction.” He joked, as he returned to watching the surroundings like a hawk.

"That a challenge?" Joan asked.

“Only if you’re woman enough to step up to it.” Juan replied, looking around, and putting way too much thought into the joke he made.

"Yer making my first question into quite the dangerous game Spaniard," Joan said, clicking back over to team com. "Cobalt, what do ya want us ta do wif dese crates? There big."

“I already contacted DGSP. They’ll deal with the cleanup. Return to the Holsteiner.” Eberhard replied. “One more thing,” He added, “I got some more information out of our captain here. The ships that were delivering them the goods. Based on his descriptions, they seem to be American Union in origin.”

"Authorities can deal wif em," Joan said, turning back to Juan. "Can't wai' ta peel dis fing off" she said, unlocking from the hull.

“We did the hard part of their jobs for them, let them do the rest.” he unlocked his boots, and floated towards escape. “I’m ready to be done here.”

"Tell me about it," Joan said, heading back towards the opening. "Few days in the Corvette, then back to civilization."

End.
 
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