Chapter One: Proof of Worth

[Ray of Meep]

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

???? A.D, 32 days after leaving Earth

Silbern System, Daimler Gate, aboard Daheim One

The FTL gateway orbited the dwarf planet Daimler, which in turn from many AUs away orbited the system's star, Silbern, a white dwarf itself, named after its faint, almost metallic glow. The Daimler Gate was the sole reliable and fast way to get from Sol to Silbern, thus giving rise to a great deal of activity around the otherwise unimpressive dwarf planet. The airwaves were flooded with requests for docking, advertisements, and general communication. GDW Space Command headquarters for the system was stationed here, its mix of small frigates and corvettes standing by beneath the dwarf planet's surface, while constellations of satellites monitored the orbit space and made routine scans of ships moving in and out of the system. Arriving ships mostly carried immigrants, fusion fuels, and exotic foods, while departing vessels packed strategic metals and manufactured products alike.

As Daheim One came into real-space after its FTL journey, the crew would've come out of FTL cryosleep. While the majority of the trip was an unconscious, interstellar journey, a few days were spent in the Sol system traveling to the Neptune Gate. During that time the new recruits would've learned the internal layout of the ship and gotten to know the rest of the crew.

There was the Grau family, which consisted of Eberhard and Ulrike Grau, along with their sixteen year old son, Hadyn. Eberhard and Ulrike were well-spoken ex-military, while Hadyn was a shy kid who spent much of time in his room taking his education, though he seemed to get along well with Joan's children, helping Montgomery manage the domestic affairs. Montgomery himself was the ship's technician by trade, but in reality was a butler of sorts who took care of the children and aided in their education. Then there were the others, mostly the Grau's friends who didn't want to see combat but wished to contribute and earn a wage anyways, who stayed on Daheim One as maintenance and security. Excluding the children, there were ten members of the Grau Lancers total.

Ulrike was already on the bridge as Eberhard walked up the stairs. "Confirmation to dock with port 15-3. Trajectory locked in. Roger, our ETA is in three hours with slow burn." She spoke through a headset as her husband placed a hand on her shoulder. Ulrike then looked up to him and smiled. "Morning." Eberhard smiled back. "Morning. Three hours. Let's get the team out in two." Ulrike nodded and made an announcement through the ship's comms. "Cowboy, Bee, Bandit, pack your gear and report to Bay 1. Cobalt (Eberhard) will meet you there." She stood up and pecked Eberhard on the cheek. "You boys and girls be safe out there."

"Heh. We'll be back soon enough."

~~~~~

Shortly before the Order was called

"So," Joan said, looking over a tablet with Jacob. "We know 'ow far we are from Ben," She said, circling the tower. "And we know 'ow tall Ben is. 'ow do we begin to know 'ow far we are from the top of Ben?" She asked, looking at Jacob.

"Uh..." Jacob started, looking at the example diagram. "If I can figure angle where Ah'm standin, top Ben, ground, I can divide 'eight o' Ben by 'angent angle... Ta git dis'ance?" He half asked, looking at his mother.

"Too right you are Jacob," Joan smiled, messing his hair up. "Tha's good! Ready fer the 'ard ques'uhn then?" She asked with a challenging grin.

"Sure mum!" Jacob smiled.

"A'ight!" Joan said, writing out a new question. "So, yer a Bill's Hen mile away to Big Ben. If earf curves eight inches every mile, 'ow far are yer top?"

Jacob looked at the diagram and frowned. " 'ow am I s'posed to figure dis'un out?" He asked, looking at his mother. "Mean, da's eighty inches, which is just under seven bits o' dog's meat which means it ain't anyfing werf measuring! Yer a bloody bah'elcruiser if'n ya fink ah'm gonna be accurate enough anyway!"

"Watch yerself!" Joan scolded. "Er a kick in the arse'll be in yer future! Yah can do it, yer a smart boy, you just gotta fink about it," She said, before there was an announcement over the radio.

"Cowboy, Bee, Bandit, pack your gear and report to Bay 1. Cobalt (Eberhard) will meet you there."

"You 'ave to go ta work now, don'cha?" Miranda asked, looking up from her own multiplication work. Joan sighed, dropping her shoulders a bit at the disappointment she heard in the little girls voice.

"I do, but don' worry," She said, standing up and grabbing her bag. "You've got yer schooling on the ship, and I 'eard you two are makin' frien's lef'n right. The Grau'll keep ya safe, in I'll be back for ya knows it," She smiled, kneeling down. "Now come on, give yer mum a kiss, tha bofe of'cha" She said, Miranda dropping everything and rushing into Joan. Jacob, however, hung back, doubt on his face.

Joan stood up, frowning slightly and messing up Jacob's hair again. "Yer a little ol fer hugs and kisses I s'pose," She said, leaning down and giving him a kiss on the head. "But naw ol enough fer me ta take em," She said, nodding her head. "Look af'er yer skin. "Ah'll be back," She said, leaving before they could say anything else. Better that way, or just easier. Either way, she started down the hall towards the Holstiener Corvette.

~~~~~

Juan had spent most of the time in his room, not out of social anxiety but because... no, he's not sure why. This was all so new to him, he'd never truly been off planet. Now he's among the stars, with people he never knew before. He did however take solace in that the missions would be familar to what he was used to. He had no one to talk to, and only his odd collections to keep him company.

 

[Ray of Meep]

Bay One itself was a large, vacuumed chamber, its canopy expanded to house the Holsteiner while hiding it from public view at the same time. On the other hand, atmosphere fills the central spine that houses stairwells that connect the command, habitation, and engine modules. Transparent walls allow full view of the storage bay, most notably the Holsteiner. The Holsteiner was a small torchship. Its panelling was flat and angular, a stark void black, but not dark enough for light to differentiate its many faces. The dorsal and ventral sides supported on PDC platform each, out of the port and starboard stuck out gimbled antenna arrays, and on all sides were hidden RCS thrusters.

Joan walked into Bay one wearing most of her gear. She looked over at Eberhard and shook her head. "Couldn' wai' in'il Maf lessins were ova?" She asked over the COM, walking towards him. "Wa' spendin' some 'ime wif da dusties, innit poligh' ta give a bitta warnin. Pick up da dog in 'ave a chat?" She added, her tone more teasing than anything.

"Come on, Cowboy." Bay One was dark with only the causeway to the Holsteiner and the corvette itself lit. The rest of the storage bay felt like an empty building still under construction, the only sound coming from the steps Joan took to step forward that traveled through the metal up through Eberhard's suit. Still, Eberhard had the interior of his helmet lit that showed a relaxed smile. "We're all ex-military here. Moving out on a moment's notice is our bread and butter."

"Yeah, we may," Joan said, looking over the ship. "Bu' It's s'ill nice ta 'ave some warnin' whan yer si'in wif yer dusties, spendin 'ime whif em." She added, crossing her arms. "Ah'd like ta giv em some warnin if'n Ah can!"

"I'm more impressed that both the people with kids beat me," Beatrix said, coming up behind Joan, adjusting the strap on her duffel. "Brought some extra medical supplies, just in case."

Juan had made his way promptly when summoned, yet when he got there he found he was not as punctual as he'd thought. He was in all his gear, ready to go. He approached Eberhard and gave a salute. He spoke in a latin accent, his nationatily showing in his skin and voice. "Ready and waiting boss. Hola amigas, pleasure to make your acquaintance." He gave a further casual salute to the ladies, flashing a smile. "Glad to see we're all a good looking bunch!"

"Good to meet ya," Beatrix replied, nodding at the relative latecomer. "So, what's the mission plan, boss?"

"Oh boy," Joan chuckled at Juan's fnishing statement. "Beh'ah keep yer minces off are Bottles Spainard," She said, crossing her arms and cock her hips to the side. "Er you'll be eah'en muh daisies you will," She warned playfully.

"Heh, better keep the threats of violence saved for after the mission, Cowboy." Eberhard smirked.

"Ah was bein nice!" Joan defended. "E'e can look at us, just don' get too quiggly bou' it. Las fing we need is 'im 'avin a J. Arfah while we're on the way."

Juan thought for a moment, attempting to decipher what the large woman, much like himself, had said. This availed him not. Thank god she translated heself. This allowed him to futher place his suited up hand along his chest and give a little bow with a laughing smile. "Oh of course, but is common sense when the nearby beauties are similarly trained in the execution of man! The rules of being of the Latin lands: 'Look but don't touch, and don't look that hard at that.' It's how I'm still alive."

"Well, maybe you'll s'ay livin fer a bit longa," Joan said, crossing her arms in a bit of a self hug, and shrugging. "S'long as ya don' use da lack of grav tah be a pig," She finished, looking back at Eberhard.

"Ulrike, give us a gradual drop to coast within ten minutes, open up the canopy in five after that." He then tapped his heels. "Maglocks on, people, and try not to throw up."

Juan, who had very little experience with this stuff, tried not to worry. He was a big strong man, surely he would pass this test with flying colors as he had with so many others.

Where there once were noticeable vibrations through the ship, reverberating from the engine module to the central spine to the causeway on which the Grau Lancers stand, it all dwindled down the barely a hum as the fusion core powered down. Without linear thrust, Bay One was in zero g's. The squad's bodies floated, held down to the platform by their suits and magnetic boots. As Eberhard led them into the Holsteiner, his own strides were low to the ground, long, and deliberate, lest he looses his footing. While they entered, Bay One's canopy was lit red with warning lights. Half of it detached from the rest of Daheim One, revealing the Holsteiner to starlight.

The interior space was cramped. The storage bay was armory, personnel entrance, and cargo hold all combined into one. Down one floor was the engine block, and upwards was the bunk beds and medbay all in a single space, and up again was the cockpit that was barely large enough to hold three people. Eberhard took off his helmet and hooked it to his belt. "Blenda, say hello to our new friends and then undock, set course for our target. Let's go with fast burns then coast."

"Of course, Captain Cobalt. Welcome, Cowboy. Bandit. Bee. To the Holsteiner. Initiating undocking sequence now." A somewhat robotic, female voice came through the corvette's comms. A sway in the ship followed immediatley after as the Holsteiner jerked off its clamps, the RCS thrusters releasing small bursts of gas to maneuver it out of Bay One.

Eberhard climbed upstairs. "Sorry Bee, briefing will have to be when we coast. Until then, strap yourselves to some bunks and get ready for 2 g's for an hour duration. There are drugs in the medbay if you need help coping."

"Sounds like a plan," Beatrix said, looking down at her feet as she worked her magnetic boots, getting used to their feel.

Juan was not ashamed he did not know everything about the sciences behind space flight. Granted it's not normal flight, he thought, more like agressive levetation maybe. However now, faced with numbers and phases he had only a passing understanding of, he went to the medbay.

"Ah, Ebah'ard, what are you finkin!" Joan laughed, finding it easier to not use the maglocks. Just push and grab. "Makin me weigh da same as a damn Joanna you is! I'mma 'ave ta wrap up 'ight ta keep meh Bristols from seh'in on meh back! Oo ole ow'ahs? Is a sin da is! 'ell me I can a'lease 'ave a laugh in 'ere. Mae eh all worf it," She asked.

Eberhard frowned. "Cowboy, stick to aliases until we're back on Daheim One. And you're free to move around if you can handle the g-force, but I can't let you smoke. Quarters are too cramped here and the scrubbers aren't that good. Wait until we get back."

"Yer killin me Cobalt." Joan groaned, following Eberhard along. "Dees missuns are up ta oo weeks!"

The captain shrugged in response. "Then it looks like time to ditch the smoking habit."

"Or I could jus 'ighschool eh in tha apples," Joan remarked. "Is ain' like Ah'm a pack a day or nuffin!"

"Tell you what. If you don't whine about it I'll let you smoke in the bad guys' ship." Eberhard gave an amused sigh.

"Oh you fuckah!" Joan muttered. "Like Ah would 'ake meh 'elme' off in enemeh 'erri'ory! You 'rying ta ge' me killed?" She asked, looking around what parts of the ship she could see. "Ah could come up wif somefing, ah ge' na wan'in dis ta be a one way fing, bu' I need ma laugh or dis jus' gone be a bird lime fer me!"

"I just want to be clear for now and the future," Beatrix said, turning to look at Eberhard and pointing at Joan, "I can only understand about half of what she says when her accent gets that thick. So don't expect me to be a Rosetta Stone, alright?"

Eberhard paused, then replied. "As long as Cowboy can stick to military-speak during the mission, we'll get used to her accent in due time." "Warning. Main engine online in 60 seconds." Blenda interjected. "Better get comfortable people."

"Ac'in like ah dun speak plain english," Joan scoffed, shaking her head.

"If you think that's plain English, then I got an asteroid to sell you," Beatrix replied, chuckling as she headed for her room.

 

[Ray of Meep]

Once the Holsteiner floated a good distance away from Daheim One, its engine lit up bright white, streaking into the void at two Earth gravities while Daheim One's own engine started again to continue its docking with the space port. The crews' bodies were pulled towards the engine, every fiber and tissue weighing twice as much for an entire hour.

Alas, the Holsteiner came to a relative stop, coasting through interplanetary nothingness. Eberhard floated down from the crew quarters to the storage bay to give his briefing, where there was more space to hold a meeting comfortably. He anchored himself to the floor and started.

"Alright people, I sent our target's schematics to your own PD's (Personnel devices), designated Matchstick. Our mission is preemptive strike; we have reliable evidence that Matchstick is en route to intercept a civvie transport and claim it hostage. Don't ask how we know; our friends in the bureacracy do some strange work. They've asked us to counter-intercept before it can get anywhere near the Daimler Gate, which is why we've planned to spend a day for travel."

Eberhard paused, then continued. "If you look at the files I sent you, Matchstick is a three-module ship, typical civillian design. It's safe to assume that the interiors is like the Holsteiner's, but more rooms. I estimate there's between half a dozen and a dozen personnel on-board. As for ship armaments these kinds of pirates typically have two missiles to threaten their target with, along with a PDC and some spare warheads to stave off law enforcement."

"First objective is to disable their engine. Blenda and I will take care of that. Then, we'll get close for EVA and breach. Once we're onboard, we are to eliminate hostiles, but take one prisoner and save as much of the data logs as we can. There's a claim that recent pirate attacks have become more systematic; the bureacracy wants verification. Any questions?"

"So," Joan said, looking over all the information provided after silently complaining to herslef through the entire trip. Who asks a woman to undergo two G burns for over an hour without letting her have a smoke? "You fuck deh block, we sweeny 'odd eh ovah, kill all buh one, secure deh da'ah and ship, and we'll all be 'ome for chris'mas!" She said, her still helmeted head looking the rest of the team over. "Where 'ave ah 'eard dah one before? I fink somefing bad 'appens beh'win dah secure da ship and bein 'ome fer chris'mas. 'ow we s'pose ta deal wif dah, eh?" She asked. "We can' exactly 'ake da Mickey if Barney comes ta visi' can we."

"These pirate ships aren't well equipped to take on our corvette, so the weakest chain in the link is securing the ship on foot. Should we get pushed back, we'll have to retreat back to the Holsteiner and indiscriminantly tear at it from the outside until there's no more resistance. That'll prevent it from threatening anyone, but we'll lose information that could improve future law enforcement."

"So," Beatrix said, playing with her hair with her left hand while paging through her PD, "best case we get our mitts on some info and an annoying roommate. Worst case, we just blow 'em up after we get repulsed. Guess we'll have to be careful to always keep our line of retreat open and purple dinosaur free."

"We didn't live this long in the military by being reckless, Bee." Eberhard nodded.

"Wha's a purple dino gots to do wif anyfing?" Joan asked, looking at Beatrix. "You 'avin a bubble at me?"

"Yes, but you're the one that brought up Barney," the shorter woman replied with a grin. "You can't say that without me thinking of kids cartoons."

Juan shook his head, waving his datapad in the air. "No I don't get it either. We probably had different childhoods. So, we've got our plan: kick the door down, elimainate all but one, keep our sixes clear in case we need to GTFO, and win anyway. What'll happen to the ship afterwards?"

"A fair question." Eberhard floated over to one of the crates to open it. "Once we capture Matchstick, we'll be handing it and our prisoner to the authorities, who'll do most of the cracking."

"Now's a good time then never to how you how you're actually getting on the ship." One piece at a time, Eberhard pulled components out of the crate and had them float in midair, the biggest of which was a large backpack of sorts, the rest seemed like limb braces and straps. "This is the exoskeleton you'll be wearing for EVA. It's relatively light and gives you all the manuevering you'll need, but doesn't provide radiation protect whatsoever, so you'll have to take some pills and run diagnostics after this is all over. We're looking into equipment that keeps you safe and also doesn't hamper your mobility. For now, this will have to do. If you want some practice, it is compatible with real rad-shielded suits, so you can do all the training you want in the next 24 hours on the outside of the Holsteiner."

"Awe fak" Joan groaned, looking at the backpack. "Li'erally da leas' safe way of ge'in ovah," Joan sighed, looking at the jet pack. "Spendin da nex' day prac'icing? We'd need ta pick em ovah wif a fine 'oof comb if we's does dat! dis is somefing we shoulda prac'iced when we were wif tha main ship!" She sighed, looking at the jetpacks. "Jus' naw safe enough wif wha' we got!"

Juan had to agree with the strangest spkeaing woman he'd ever met, the less time he spent drifting in the expanse the better. "This is some pretty homespun shit, not gonna lie. We'll be fine, as long as we're careful. I think I'll take the training opportunity while I can."

Eberhard nodded in general agreement. "Bandit, you don't have any EVA experience, so training would be nice. However, like Cowboy said, the best safety features we have for that on the Holsteiner right now is some tethers." He paused, and waved his hand. "I'll leave it up to you. If you don't feel safe, I can have you hitch a ride with Cowboy or Bee. I didn't recruit you with EVA skills in mind, but for your abilities to adapt."

"Awe," Joan sighed teasingly, looking at Juan. " 'e can jus' 'ug me on ovah! Ah'm sure 'e won't mind 'is boat in mah Bristol's fer a lemon," she said, holding a wall to keep her steady in the zero g.

"Hmm," Bee muttered, her attention torn between worrying about the exoskeletons and figuring out what Joan was saying. "If we're going to be essentially teaching Bandit how to do an EVA, one of us should be inside the ship, but ready to pop out in case something goes wrong during the lesson. If you want to teach, Cowboy, I'll stick inside for now. Need to pull some stuff out of my bag at any rate."

"I'm sure with a bit of training I can get the hang of it. Some support would be nice, whoever is willing to give it. I'm sure it can't that hard!" Juam says, worrying that it may very well be that hard. "Not sure what a Bristol is though, but I hesitate to find out."

The captain made his way up the stairs. "Sounds like you all have a plan worked out. Use your 24 hours wisely. I'll be up in the cockpit to prepare the pre-breaching phase of the mission."

 

[Ray of Meep]

24 hours later

The mercenaries would find themselves in the storage bay, preparing their equipment, weapons, and armor when Blenda called through the comms.

"Alert. 1 g decelartion initiated. Matching speeds with target Matchstick. Decoy drones, launched." The Holsteiner's engine rumbled beneath their feet as the corvette slowed to intercept the pirate vessel. 20 minutes later, Blenda notified the crew again, "Point defense canons ready. Engaging hostile. RCS online." Eberhard added. "You all might want to hang on to something!"

Vibrations travelled through the hull, with the two PDC's blaring for several seconds. An uneasy silence followed, then sudden metallic pings a few minutes later, with the red emergency lights turning on and the bulkhead connecting the bunks to the storage bay slamming shut. Eberhard yelled through the comms. "They got a lucky shot on us and caused a leak. Give me a few minutes to sort this out. I'd really hold on to something now!" Moments after, the mercenaries were dragged around towards one wall, then the next, as if pulled by an invisble rope swung them around the center of the ship. The PDC's blared again, this time for half a minute, before going silent. "Ready up people!"

The Holsteiner came to a relative halt after a few small pushes around with its RCS, the lights in the storage bay turning yellow, signifying the mercenaries to enter the airlock. Upon doing so, the lights turned green, exposing Joan, Juan, and Beatrix to the void, and the pirate vessel before them, no more than a two-way street's width away.

It was like looking at a three-story tall building. The Matchstick, as the intel suggested, was made of three distinct, cylindrical modules, the engine module with innumerable holes in it, gases leaking out into space. There seemed to be hardpoints on the second module, but all that was left there were broken bits of steel and aluminum.

Eberhard informed through the comms. "I recommend breaching the engine module. We hit it pretty good; I doubt anyone's left alive in there. Then again, I didn't hire you people to simply follow orders."

"Ah like yer idea Ebah'ard" Joan said, setting a waypoint for an airlock not on the engine compartment. "Though, 'ate to say it, dats a bad plan," She said, heading towards the airlock, pulling an interface out of her belt. "Engine Module is pro'ably locked up tigh'er den a 'ore's charlie 'fore the dosh is 'anded ovah," She explained, landing on the ship hard, and setting the interface up. Joan cut away a small square out of the outer layer of the hull, revealing wiring and circuit boards that controlled the door and its power source. She then needed to cut the control circuits and reroute them to a small transponder that gave Eberhard access. This process took two minutes.

"So," Joan said, once everything was set up. "Yer gonna open da ou'side of dis airlock when I say, give us ten seconds tah get in, close the ou'side doors, in open da inside doors fore it pressurizes. It'd be uncomfy, but, we'll be somewhere easier to manage I finks. Quick an easy!" She said, drawing her rifle.

"Roger that Cowboy. Give me a couple minutes to get access." Eberhard replied. His tone was now more formal, the easy going attitude having disappeared.

"Hopefully quick," Bee replied, looking at the airlock, "Not sure I'd agree on the easy part. Can't think of a better idea, so here's hoping this is a good one."

Joan nodded to Beatrix. "When we git in, Bee, put dat shield ta some good work. We's gone be in a bad spot if'n anyone's on da uhvah side of da airlock and it'll be a shooting gallery. Me in da Spaniard'll be da offense. You dis'ract, we'll 'ake out 'argets."

"The Spainiard agrees, you play our defense and we're the guns. It's usally good to keep the medic alive." Juan was ready, he was pumped up. Sure the EVA was still scary, but his training with Joan had mitigated the effect, and his natural 'get shit done' mentaility helped with the rest.

"... Alright. There we go. Opening the outer door on your mark." Eberhard warned.

"Mark," Joan ordered.

A gust of air pushed the breachers off and to the sides of the ship, which was quickly rectified by the jetpacks' automatic RCS. Recovering quickly, they moved into the small airlock, somewhat cramped due to the backpacks. Beatrix stood in front with her riot shield, which had powerful flashlights that were connected to her suit's powerbank. Joan and Juan stood behind closely, wielding experimental bullpup rifles, given to the Grau Lancers as part of their contract with the government.

As the outer door closed behind the team, the inner door of the airlock opened up, bringing a second gust of wind, followed by several ricochets of bullets off of Beatrix's shield and one that grazed Juan's shoulder that fortunately didn't damage suit nor flesh, but instead tore a small hole in the airlock, causing a slow but steady drop in atmosphere in the ship.

The two riflemen responded reactively and decisively, firing their guns, resulting in two dead pirates before them, floating in the comparment, blood forming small, wobbly spheres in the zero-g space. They both wore identiless jumpsuits, and were tall, lean, and pale. One was a black-haired man with a poorly maintained short beard. The other was a blonde with short hair. Their weapons were odd though. Submachine guns, military-grade to the common eye, but to military personnel, they were clearly knock-offs.

The compartment seemed to be the storage bay, mostly food and water tied down. Two separate stairs and bulkheads led up to the upperdecks, both of which were shut tight.

"Targets down," Joan said, moving back to the airlock and pulling a piece of thick plastic one of her belt pouches, placing it on the hole to stop the leak. She then started to one of the doors, looking through it, then turning her head to Juan. "Blow the door. We're 'eading to the CNC. Do not shoot the captain unless you absolu'ely 'ave too. Kill anyone oo gets in the way. When you're ready, we'll cover you," She ordered, keeping an eye on the second door. She certainly was able to kill the accent on mission, but it still had some carry overs.

Beatrix went to the two dead pirates, checking for a pulse out of habit, before asking, "You want me covering the back or what, Cowboy?"

"Cover the Spainard incase that door opens. Crew quarters are above us, so expect resistance. Grenades if there are more than 3 targets," Joan responded. Juan moved forward to the door, taking out what he refered to as the ultimate cleaner, thermite paste. He waited to be covered before applying, not saying a word unneeded. Bee floated over to Bandit, covering him with the riot shield as he applied the paste. Bandit applied the death toothpaste, wishing the door a minty death. It would not be.

The helmets' automatically shaded as the thermite glowed a bright white, then popped unceremoniously, leaving two slabs of metal with molten edges. Beatrix pushed up and through the floating blocks, bullets ricocheting around her and off her shield. She flashed the shield's flashlights twice in response, both to blind and to taunt. While their visors were still shaded, Joan kicked one of the slabs up and out of the way, and sent a flashbang along with it for good measure, resulting in a split second of silence, before gunfire blared again, this time by Juan as he floated up, unphazed with his back pushed against the wall due to the recoil of his rifle. Besides the three floating bodies and the metal shrapnel, the rather spacious room had a few bunk beds, personal maintenance furniture, and personal items. More importantly, there was a door that led to the other room, and a stairwell that joined the two and led to the final floor, if the schematics were to be believed.

"Me a the Spaniard will clear the other room," Joan said, "Bee, cover the stairwell. Shoot anything that comes through."

"Aye aye, Cowboy," Bee replied, moving to cover the stairs, unfolding a tab on the shield and quickly taped it to the wall next to the stairwell, letting her have both hands free to hold and aim her pistol.

Juan was always in a ready stance, starting to move to the other room. "Let's get this done."

Beatrix simply kept watch of the stairs as Joan and Juan took advantage of the separate entrances, breaching simultaneously. She simply listened to the few seconds of gunfire, crouching behind her shield, before her teammates returned with more metal shavings and blood clung to their suits. According to the schematics, the stairs led to the CNC, the final floor to clear.

Juan had only a determined face, no other emotion visible, weapon at the ready. "Let's keep going, final stretch."

As the bulkhead to the CNC was torn asunder by more explosives, Beatrix raised her shield to deflect the bullets. There were three pirates, one in the center and more to the back that was barking orders in a thick Silbern accent, which was a mix of the Earth European languages, but primarily German. A flashbang, a burst of rifle rounds, and cries of surrender after, Joan and Juan had their guns trained on the supposed leader as he had his hands raised, while his two cohorts had holes torn through their limbs and hands, crying in agony.

 

[Ray of Meep]

" 'ello Cap'ain," Joan said, foating up to the VIP and grabbing his hands, pulling them behind him and zip tying his hands together. "Bee, get them secured. Spaniard, close the CNC doors, and open the airlocks. I'm not much a fan o' surprises. I'll figure out what tah do wif da spares in a moment," She said, clipping a strong magnet to the zip tie of the Captain, and sticking him to the bulkhead, doing the same to his legs.

Without so much as a word, Juan closed the doors to the CNC, and opened the airlocks to send any surprises into the void.

Bee went from spaceship boarder to trauma paramedic in a heartbeat, looking over the wounded pirates and pulled out the duct tape again. "If we want to keep both of these guys alive, I'll need some help over here," she said, creating makeshift tourniquets over the bullet holes of the least wounded pirate.

"Keep yer knickers on," Joan muttered. "Aye, Cobal', 'ow many prisoners was ya expectin?" She asked simply, starting to unbuckle her helmet.

"I assume you cleared the ship. One is all we need, preferably the captain. I doubt their henchmen can tell us much. What, you have more than one survivor?" Eberhard came through the comms.

Juan hopped on comms. "For now. That can change if they're unnecessary."

"Seems like we've got a problem then," Joan said, before pulling her pistol and shooting the other two dead. "Problem solved. One cap'ain secured."

"I was about to do that. I wanted confirmation we didn't want more."

"And I was about to say you keep them alive and leave them to the authorities." There was a hint of annoyance. "Nevermind, what's done is done. Stay on the ship. Local law enforcement are on their way to pick up Matchstick and its captain. Check the vessel's databases. See what you can find before experts come in to do decryption."

Bee looked like she had bitten a ripe lemon, but just sighed and put her tape back in her bag.

"Risk Managment Colbal'," Joan said, turning to the captain and searching his pockets. "We're paid fer one, in da Queen don' pay fer more trouble," She said simply.

"We're not in the employ of the Queen." Juan commented.

" 'ow does ya think da Company makes er money ta pay us?" Joan asked, finding a pack of smokes. "Ah, man after me own 'eart!" She said, pulling off her helmet. "Mind if I knick one?" She asked, rhetorically since she started to light one without waiting for the answer. The captured captain grumbled, but didn't speak otherwise out of fear.

Juan shrugged, relaxing his grip on his weapon. "I thought it was the Germans that paid us. Granted, what's the difference these days?"

"More or less. GDW's parliament is dominanted by primarily those of Germanic background right now. We have friends in high places that give us money for equipment. Sometimes they force us to use stuff they want us to test, like the rifles you're using. All part of the contract for some tactical freedom in exchange." Eberhard returned to a more relaxed tone.

"An' I reckon we just saved dem a couple 'undred grand wif two bullets. I say we should git somma dat savin passed on, but dats a dreaming thought now innit?" Joan asked, pulling another smoke out of the pack and looking at their captive. "Now, you bi'e me, Ah'll make ya eat the resta the pack. Ya 'ear me?" She asked, lifting the smoke so he could grab it with his teeth. He reluctantly gripped it with his teeth and inhaled.

Juan shook his head at the interation with the captive, and gathered all the console info he could grab. Besides two encrypted files, there were video game applications, unsavory videos and images and naked men and women alike, junk in general. Then there were the communication logs. There seemed to be only one that wasn't deleted: one that was sent out no more than half an hour ago, when the Holsteiner was shredding apart Matchstick's engine. Unfortunatley, it too was encrypted.

"Whatcha find Spaniard?" Joan asked, walking over to look over Juan's shoulder.

"Well we've got Undertaker 2, and a lot of porn. Moving past- nice- past that, one communication a half hour ago, when we were ramming them with missiles."

"Porn eh?" Joan said, looking through another consol. "Communica'ion can be 'andled by da authori'ies," She said, her eyebrowns popping up a little. "Naw bad at all," She commented, turning to look at the captain. "Even in yer fan'asies, yer swinging out of yer own pitch there, innit ya?" She laughed, ashing her smoke so the ash floated away from them. "Though, 'ave ta say, these blokes ain' all dat bad hmm? Whatcha think Spaniard?"

Juan chuckled, and made sure to take the communication for the authorites. "Not my type, but if you're that desperate feel to confiscate the 'evidence.' I, ooh, I can't blame you."

"Ah've got me own 'evidence.' Ah don' need more," She said, looking turning away from the consol and just floating.

"Well don't we all." The evidence, the real evidence not the adult entertainment, was theirs, and all they had to do was wait. "I am however taking their memes. I feel stupid saying it, but that's the law." He turned around, and smiled at their handywork. "Damn good job team. Must suck to be a pirate right now."

"Eh, most of em are dead. Not much ta worry about now I s'pose," Joan said, keeping a lazy eye on the strung up Captain. "Might let meself 'ave a drink afta dis. Bin a while wifout 'alf decent nannies about. 'aven't 'ad a night to meself in years."

"Do it, you earned it. This is thristy work, definitely." Juan spun in midair, idly waiting for time to pass.

Bee stayed silent throughout the exchange, taking off her helmet and attaching it to her belt. She then pulled out her PD and opening up a medical textbook, paging through it to find what she was looking for.

 

[Ray of Meep]

A few hours idly went by. At this point Eberhard joined the other Lancers on Matchstick's bridge, writing up a report on his datapad. "Alert. Several fusion engine signatures detected. Hailing unknown vessels..." Blenda informed, then continued. "Identities confirmed. Daimler Gate Space Patrol."

"Give me comms." Eberhard tapped his earpiece. "This is the captain of the Grau Lancers speaking... Roger... Thank you, much appreciated." He tapped again and looked at his men. "Watch your heads people." Minutes later, there was a heavy thunk that rattled Matchstick's hull; an automated pushing vessel clamped down on the ship from the top.

Eberhard tapped his data pad, opening up the airlock that Joan gave him control over, allowing law enforcement personnel to enter. Silbern natives, they were tall, slender, and pale, like the pirates, but much better equipped, with uniforms and suits that bore the GDW colors. They kept their helmets on, but their faces were visible through the visors. Floating over to the captured captain, the men held onto him, one on each side. "We'll take care of all this from here." They remarked, in a hard but professional manner.

" 'ello dere scuffahs!" Joan greeted, waving a hand at the GDW folks as they went to take the Captain, smoke held in her teeth. "I 'ope 'e don give ya too much trouble. 'e was a right peach fer us!" She smiled, ashing her cigarette. "Ah told 'im 'e could 'ave one more ifn 'e was nice. S'pose das up ta you boys now, eh?" she said, tossing a smoke to them. "Ah'd say 'e deserves it. Was a sweet'art da 'ole time!"

The GDW personnel simply nodded and took the cigarette. Eberhard further explained. "We'll be following them back to DGSP (Daimler Gate Space Patrol) headquarters on the far side of the dwarf planet. There, we'll get the Holsteiner refueled, rearmed, and patched up. Daheim One will be meeting us there as well."

"Sounds like a plan," Bee said, turning her magnetic boots on and started walking for the door. "I really do like knowing the plan ahead of time. Makes it so no one wastes time on something that turned out to be pointless, you know?"

"Awe, Come off it Bee!" Joan said with a shrug and a frown. "Though, Ah fink if'n da opposite were da case, in we told'cha not ta 'elp em, and dey died from lack o' action on yer part, ya would be a tad more upset."

"Yes," Bee replied, looking over her shoulder, "I agree that its a little weird for me to be upset, since I was ready to shoot them a few minutes earlier. Just saying it would have been nice to know I wasted good duct tape on good tourniquets on two dead men."

"Ah was wonderin abou' dat actually," Joan said, pointing at the duct tape. "Ah nevah seen gaffahs tape used as a a touniquet. Din fink you could get it 'ight enough," She said, looking at the tape on the guys. "Wouldn' dey just bleed out any'ow?

Juan had definitely been browsing the consoles for evidence, and turned to catch up with the ladies. "It's duct tape, of course it works. It's the poor man's instant sealer."

"Fast application, was going to use it to tie their arms to their sides anyway, I was more worried about bloodloss, its cheap and I didn't want to pull out the actual tourniquets out of my bag," Beatrix said with a shrug.

"S'long ya don' use gaffah's 'ape on me," Joan nodded, looking at Juan. "An if'n ya trus' it tah stop ya from dyin, all means. More torniquets fer me!"

"Trust it? I'm experienced in it. I've done it before. Worked surprisingly well for a combat medical operation."

The Lancers returned to the Holsteiner, which followed the DGSP vessels back to Daimler, holding a comfortable, low-g burn the entire way, flipping around midway to decelerate. The automated pushing vessel followed behind at a slower pace. After more than a day of travel, they eventually returned to orbit around Daimler, this time arriving at the military spacedock on the opposite side of the dwarf planet to the gate. There, Daheim One was already waiting.

As Eberhard floated into the frigate, Ulrike floated over and gave him a hug and a kiss. "Welcome back Ebbey."

"Hey, it's good to be back where I can stretch my limbs." Eberhard chuckled and yawned. His son, Hadyn, was shy and unwilling, but the Dad went over and gave a bear hug regardless, giving the kid a light noogie.

He then turned back to Joan, Juan, and Beatrix. "Now that we're safe and sound, I'd consider that mission a complete success. Go get some rest. After the Holsteiner's restocked and repaired, we'll be returning to the Caste Services Spaceport, where you'll get to do whatever you want until the next mission comes it. I anticipate it'll be when the law enforcement get the information they wanted, and when all the red tape's cleared."

End.