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Rally Point Delta-9010, Uninhabited System

Rally Point Delta-9010 was the fourth system they hit, the three ships dropping back into realspace in a trio of blue flashes, the agitated soup of exotic particles that had built up during their time in the slipstream trailing from the ships in glistening comet tails of golds, blues and violets. The Jinx and the Reaper limped towards the innermost gas giant, a monster of helium tinged dull grey with streaks of pinks and purples dancing about its poles. The two destroyers settled in above the planet's belt, setting about any major repairs they could manage whilst the Eclipse settled into an overwatch position and set about making its own repairs.

JD, exhausted and angry as he was, circled the bridge, reassuring his disheveled crew as best he could whilst looking over the information on their screens, murmering encouragement and some suggestions where he could. He turned to the holotac that sat in the center of the room and looked at a wireframe representation of the Jinx as it currently was. He tried not to swear, instead grinding his teeth and clenching his fists as his anger built.

'How many did we lose?' He asked after a moment of concentrating on containing an angry outburst, his gaze never leaving the three-dimensional image of the damaged destroyer.

'Twenty-one fatalities so far.' Spirit replied, poring over her data, 'Forty-nine injuries, eight of which are life threatening. The rest are just broken bones, sprains, scratches and bumps. Naturally, we won't know the full extent of the damage to the crew until we're settled enough for a proper head count.'

'What about the damage to the ship itself?'

'Extensive, Sir. We've lost practically everything on our rimward flank, including one of our sublight drives. Two are still operating at nominal capacity, the third at just over half. Our shields are fried, we have no weapons on one side and our countermeasures are debatable. That last part, engineering are working on. However, the emergency forcefields held up very well during our time in the slipstream and our slipdrive survived the fight fully unscathed.'

'About a hundred and eighty crew out of two-hundred and fifty, and we're almost at the operative point of being able to register as a straight-up freighter.' JD growled and slid into his chair.

It had been an incredibly tense three-day journey within the slipstream, the last two days proving to be even more tense as the three warships limped towards the gas giant on their sublights. The medibay was still rammed with the injured and the dying, with the ship's own damage reports increasing as the remaining able-bodied crew rallied to sort through the damage and prioritize repairs. A steward bot scurried out of a hatch between work stations and handed him a mug of s'ryn, a strong, Jes'wan beverage with a bitter tang and a consistency that was borderline syrup. JD sipped at the hot beverage as he watched the steward bot dispensing mugs of s'ryn around the exhausted bridge crew. A small smile crept onto his face when he heard a soft, pleased sigh from Chief Ari, his helm officer. The Synthenoid was still plugged into the ship, nestled deep within the cocoon of wires she had made for herself - of herself, rather, he thought curiously.

'How're you holding up, Ari?' He asked softly.

The Synthenoid cocked her silvered head and twisted around slightly in the pilot's pit, the cable dreadlocks that replaced her hair all those years ago clinking softly as she moved. A pair of large, oval green eyes looked up at him innocently.

'Tired, but able to get us home, especially if the s'ryn keeps flowing.' She said, her small mouth splitting her delicate, heart-shaped face into a stunning, needle-toothed smile.

JD studied her, trying to gauge just how exhausted she really was. She had been on duty for a full five days now, but that meant very little in the scope of how Synthenoids operated; they could work for eight days straight before fatigue truly set in.

Born organic humanoids, the moment they hatched from their cybernetic eggs, they were implanted with highly advanced wetware, which would grow with them. By their thirteenth year, they would undergo their first major step towards Ascension; complete removal of every inch of skin on their bodies and the implementing of NanoSteel, which, like the wetware, would grow and form with them. In time, more would be done, each 'upgrade' conforming to their chosen Path. In Ari's case, she chose to become a pilot, which resulted in a slender, delicate frame, hung with smooth, silver cables and fibre optic threads and a serious boost to stamina and reflexes. It was so very easy to forget that even the Synthenoid pilots were as much killing machines as their towering Warrior Caste brethren. He had no doubt that, when not interfaced with the ship, Ari could give him a damn good fight in the sparring chamber.

Assuming his Legionaries would allow him anywhere near their 'sacred deck'.

With that last thought, he brought up the status of the medibay again. Chief Medical Officer Kathleenas Nalen was still pushing her team to the brink to try and get as many of the injured crew back in peak, physical form as fast as possible without jeopardizing anyone. It was a task much easier said than done, especially since the Shadow Stalkers were a mixed bag of species. Furred worked with Jes'wan, Engarren worked with Saurian, Demons worked with Ishinn and T'raykes worked with Dragons. Add a single Synthenoid to the mix, and chaos quite often reigned in above average realms during and after a major fight.

And that was just aboard the Jinx.

He left a note on Nalen's workstation, asking if she needed any assistance. The answer came back to him quickly and in text format, and simply said 'Nah, we're good.'

He continued to study the ship's systems and all the data flowing to his station from the various departments, sending various requests for assistance to the supply ships that were loitering in the shadows of the moon of the third planet, and approving Wish Lists from engineering and the ship's Quartermaster. The Eclipse could only provide so much aid and JD was loathe to ask for their assistance at that time, as Commodore Blacktip had also taken some serious hits. So everyone was waiting on the Shadow Stalkers's supply vessels to catch up with them. The Reaper was out of the question concerning any major manoeuvres also, as she was in a similar condition to the Jinx. What was needed was a repair slip and - he checked the latest lists and sighed in annoyance - a total refit of the shield systems, countermeasures, weapons and a new sublight drive. Add the loss of ordnance and crew, and what he really wanted, was to wrap his fingers around Admiral Meeshan's throat and squeeze until the Candaran officer was as dead as those who had been explosively vented into the face of a full broadside.

He may just have a chance at doing so, assuming the Candaran task force ever made it to the system. He would have to beat Commodore Blacktip and Captain Umber to it, though.

In reality, he shouldn't have been surprised by the losses and the damage. They were mercenaries after all, and just like every other armed forces in the Three Galaxies, people signed up knowing they could die the very next day. No, it wasn't that that was upsetting him the most. It was the fact that Admiral Meeshan had squandered a full three week's worth of meticulous planning in a matter of hours, rendering the loss of life pointless, and as far as JD was concerned, there was nothing worse than a pointless death. It always rang as cheap and left a bitter aftertaste for all involved.

'I'm picking up signs of multiple FTL bow shocks about four hours out, Captain.' Rojam said, 'I believe it's the Candaran Task Force.'

'Can you confirm that?' JD asked, standing up and stretching. He was almost desperate to get out of his battle armour, but with the Jinx still partially open to space, removing his armour was not an appealing option. If his crew had to suffer a three day stint clammed up in their battle armour, then he could suffer with them, no problem.

The Ocelot studied her screens intently, glaring at her main read-out. She looked across to the Tactical Station, where K'narlas was also studying her read-outs.

'Our sensors are too badly damaged to make perfect sense of something so far away, but the drive signatures are reading as a seventy-two percent match.' K'narlas said. She looked to Rojam for confirmation.

'Agreed. It's looking to be our clients on a short deceleration vector.' Rojam said after a moment, then she perked up a bit more. 'Solid confirmation now, Boss. The ID Beacon on the lead ship is reading as the Candara Grace.'

JD looked at his primary tactical monitor. What information was being gathered through his ship's damaged scanning arrays was just enough to let him know that the Candaran dreadnought was ahead of its remaining destroyers, the last of the frigates and corvettes nowhere to be seen. Probably in hiding with their supply vessels. He thought in irrational annoyance.

'Arrogant bastard, putting himself up front instead of behind his destroyers. For all he knows, he could be flying straight into a Lishni ambush.' K'narlas muttered, voicing his next thought for him.

'Message from the Eclipse, Boss.' Consal announced.

'Put it on screen.' He said, easing himself back into his command chair with a deep, steadying breath.

The forward view screen flickered then changed from the view of the roiling gas giant below them to the face of a grey shark, his small, pointed ears tipped with black. Anger simmered in the depths of his full, black eyes, and JD had no doubt in his mind that his fellow officer was as angry as he. JD had once had a staring contest with Commodore Blacktip one drunken night, and subsequently lost a bottle of his finest Panzaarian whisky to him. Never challenge a shark to a staring contest. He thought bitterly, You just can't win. Whether Admiral Meeshan knew this or not, currently remained to be seen. It was something JD was quietly looking forward to.

'Captain D'armeus, glad to see you're still alive.' Blacktip said formally, a hard edge to his normally soft tone.

'Can't get rid of me that easily, Commodore.' JD replied, using his title as task force leader as opposed to his actual rank of Captain. 'What's the word on the Candara Grace? Our sensors and comms systems took a heavy hit, so our readings are patchy right now.'

'I can see that. We're having a hard time maintaining this connection, so I'll just leave you this: Meeshan has demanded a meeting to discuss our behaviour. I managed to argue him into having the meeting aboard the Eclipse, because right now, I'm not trusting anything else this man says or does. I want my security on overwatch, not his. You're to join us aboard the Eclipse, along with Captain Umber. Her comms are now completely offline, so I'm sending a fighter across to hand deliver the message. You both have four hours to get yourselves sorted out and as presentable as possible. I don't care what uniform you're in, so long as it's not covered in blood and soot, and torn in the ass. Feel free to bring along two others. One can never have enough back-up. Oh, one last thing, Jaycen' He said, his tone softening slightly and taking on an edge of hurt, 'You'll have to make your own way across. Our shuttle bay took a mouthful of warheads and we lost everything and everyone there. You'll have to land in the fighter bays.'

'Understood. I'll be ready within two hours.' JD said numbly.

Blacktip gave a slight nod of approval and cut the line. The view screen went black, flickered and switched back to the view of the gas giant beyond. Silence reigned on the bridge as they absorded the news. Not at the fact that Meeshan apparently fully blamed them for the operation going south; that was something they were used to. It was because the Eclipse had lost its shuttle deck; four heavily armed and armoured Banshee shuttles along with two Buzzard bombers, and all 300 crew.

'XO, you have the bridge.' JD said softly, but firmly into the quiet.

'Aye, Captain, I have the bridge.' The Saber replied.

He pulled his helmet back on over his head, currently not sure whether to trust what the Jinx was telling him about the current state of the ship's atmosphere. His battle suit's HUD lit up as he locked it into place, his wetware connecting him to the suit's systems, which instantly connected to the ship's damaged systems. He stalked from the bridge, his tail lashing behind him as he cycled through the airlock that helped protect the bridge from damage and made his way down the spartan corridor, passing groups of armoured crewmen and piles of tools and materials as they frantically patched the ship back together. He queried the ship, via his suit. The supply squadron was three and a half hours away, and currently, that was a loose estimation. He flicked through other channels, going through Comms, Tactical, Weapons, Engineering and even checking up on the status of the ship's single, small science lab. They had suffered too, but like the bridge, the laboratory was cocooned within the depths of the ship, wrapped up in an ovoid chamber with its own series of emergency force fields should anything manage to break through the three foot of reinforced armour.

JD rounded the corner and almost ran into Kieron Binx, Chief Engineer of the Jinx. His endless fiddling with the ship's drives, weapons and defences had gotten them all through numerous tight spots over the years. The two had met before even joining the Shadow Stalkers and it was because of Kieron's expertise JD had developed a deep respect for the shapeshifting Snow Leopard - in truth, a monster of an Ice Dragon - very quickly. As of the moment, Kieron was clad head-to-toe in full battle armour, just like his Captain. A large, bulging sack was slung over his shoulder and a heavy, battered toolbox was gripped firmly in his other hand. Behind him, three armour-clad figures followed him closely, each with their own tools and bags of spare parts.

'How's things coming along, Chief?' JD enquired, standing off to one side so they could pass by.

'Could be better, but we've had worse. I've left Mr. Zuwo and Ensign Blacktip in charge of the drives. We're now heading across to help do some patching up. Gonna see if we can get the sensor suite back in shape, too, while we're at it. I don't like sitting half-blind with a mob of angry pirates at our backs. Even if we are three systems over.' He replied. 'And technically pirates ourselves.'

'Keep Spirit informed, she's in charge until I get back from the Eclipse.' JD added, purposely ignoring the last remark, no matter how much he wanted to agree with it.

Kieron didn't have to open his helmet's faceplate for JD to know he was frowning. The slight tilt of his head gave it away.

'Admiral Meeshan has demanded an audience.' The Demon sneered, unable to contain himself much longer.

Kieron barked a harsh laugh, 'Don't deny it. You're looking forward to finally meeting him face-to-face.' The engineer then sobered quickly, all humour suddenly dropping. 'Boss, you know we need this money. We've had to scrub the last two contracts and I've heard rumours about the Jinx being called a financial liability-'

'I know. So have I. And I have no intention of getting us all laid off just because I want to feed this poor excuse for an officer his own intestines. We will get our money, and when we do, High Command will have no choice but to give us another chance.' JD said. He waved them along before anymore could be said and made his way to the medibay.