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An Avenger was already waiting in space near the Freeport for the Lane Hacker. The moment Graves came into the ship's light of sight, coordinates lit up on the ship's console screen. Whitaker, meanwhile, was very upset. Finished tapping the console to send the co-ordinates, without a word, she turned on impulse engines heading towards their destination, with the expectation of Graves to follow.

The silence was in some part because of exhaustion, but primarily it was just the snarky pilot in the ship behind hers. Not only was he annoying, but he just straight up said she'd fit being something she despised with a passion - a criminal. The words were playing on repeat in her mind, like nails on a chalkboard. "Urgh!" she grunted, slamming the armrest of the pilot's chair, the sound reverberating in the cockpit. At least it put a temporary distraction to her mind...

Seeing the particles heading towards Graves' engines, she began charging the cruise engine as well, blowing forward with the Lane Hacker ship just right behind her. After navigating the asteroids for a while, Harmony was in sight. The only home left for Whitaker and her colleagues, despite its under-maintained condition. Many would consider it an odd sight, a dreadnought of this size in an asteroid field, but there was no option to be picky for Harmony. It was the most immediate safe place after narrowly escaping the following Navy group, and turned out to be quite convenient after establishing relationships with the Unioners here. A very questionable choice for Whitaker, but she had to live with it regardless. She slowly made her ship come to a grinding halt near the dreadnought, tapping a few buttons and opening a communication channel with the capital ship.

"Harmony, this is Lt. Layla Whitaker, I've finished my escort mission with the Rear Admiral's guest. Requesting permission for both ships to dock." The ship was hit by a small flash, dimming the lights of the monitors for a split second. The powerful scanners were checking the ship thoroughly.

"Permission granted, welcome home, Whitaker."

There was a certain elegance to the ship that came into view, Graves found. Only a bit more than two decades ago, it would have been suicidal to bring it here, into an asteroid belt, because people hadn't been able to figure out back then how to create a shield bubble big enough to envelop more than a snubcraft-sized vessel. It had been one of these situations where, in hindsight, people with the savoir-faire necessary would laugh about how they had been able to overlook the flaw in their thinking. Or at least, Graves liked to imagine that, since the basic working of physics behind a ship shield were so simple, even a child would be able to understand it if explained with enough vigour.

Shaking off the admittedly pretty self-indulgent thoughts, Graves transmitted the docking protocols to the Harmony, allowing the ship access to his Vindicator's docking procedure, which allowed him to take his hands off the console. Folding them on his belly, he watched through the front window as the lumbering behemoth of Liberty's ever increasing lust for firepower came closer, opening a door of massive steel to admit them entrance. He idly thought that he should've opted for a tweed suit, because the colour would've gone really well with the ship's interior. There wasn't too much time for thought, however, since the ship passed the hangar doors and touched down, only the slow movement of the hangar doors closing speaking of how loud the sound of metal grating over metal would be if there had been an atmosphere in the hangar right now to support the travel of sound.

Both of the recently docked ships were now being pulled through the air locks and into the pressurised spaces of the Battleship. The hangar was busy, the buzzing and hammering of repair and refitting sounding through the bays. People and equipment was moving everywhere and soon pilots ran to their ships to be sent out again, powering up the unfamiliar engines in the iconic fighters. As the ships of Whitaker and Graves were being pulled onto their respective anti grav platforms, two guards approached Graves vessel. They weren't aggressive but some tension was well visible. Both were armed, the uniform of one looked a bit worn by now. Nonetheless they looked professional enough still.

"Mister Graves? We have orders to search you for any hidden weapons. Then we'll bring you to the Admiral." One of them said and stepped closer. The Harmony had long scanned Graves ship and its contents but it was possible to hide certain things. And the Battlegroup was thorough.

With the hatch of his ship opening, Graves had long since seen the guards approaching. Fair enough, he felt. There were certain things people couldn't simply detect with a scan like that. He knew that all too well, since there were quantities of Cardamine on the ship that were simply too miniscule for the technology of the scanners to make out, even if it were a Spyglass. The special thing about the Spyglass wasn't necessarily its accuracy but the way it operated on a distrubuted basis that allowed sharing the metaphorical horsepower of the devices, thus increasing the computational power. A true stroke of genious. Still, Graves hoped that they wouldn't touch his balls to check whether he had hidden a gun behind his manpower.

Climbing down, he nodded at the guards request. They approached him and padded him down, fairly thoroughly at that, and — yes! — those were his balls. Goddamnit. He wondered if they'd ask him to empty his pockets if he had carried much with him, but the only things they would find on him were a pack of expensive cigars, a breather device to ingest small doses of Cardamine, and a handkerchief — because he'd be damned if something sullied his mantle. "There isn't a problem, gentlemen?" he asked, assuming proper poise now, since he wasn't toying with some poor sod on a Freeport anymore but with his hopefully future employers. He was able to keep it polite if he wanted to, after all. The guards either didn't know what the breather device was or didn't care. Still, they kept it for now, as they couldn't allow him to have unknown objects when speaking to the admiral. "I'll get that back later, though, right?" They just looked at him before nodding and telling him to follow. Doubledamnit.

The two would lead him through a security check point and then further into the depths of the vessel. It was busy on it, the level of attention was that of wartime. And for the Battlegroup their current status was exactly that; Defcon Two. Another check point and they'd enter the command area of the ship. It wasn't like on a normal vessel of the kind anymore. Knight wasn't only involved in indirect planning from afar only anymore but was giving direct orders from within the vessel. It was both problematic and advantageous. Some people looked at Graves with curiosity, some with open dislike. So far it wasn't as common to work with Hackers or even the Unioners. Many still needed time to warm up to the thought.

One of the guards firmly knocked on the door, it opened a few moments after that. The guard saluted and then stepped aside, letting Graves step in. Inside was Admiral Victoria Knight, behind her desk, standing. Her appearance showed a hint of exhaustion and stress but she was handling it well.

"Mister Graves, please come in, take a seat." At the look of one of the guards she shook her head. "Dismissed." she said and sat down again. "Now then Mister Graves. I believe there are things you want to tell me. At least there are things I want to know."

If there was one thing that Graves was not, it would be being accustomed to military procedures. The entire formality was quite frankly jarring to him, given the quite different approach the Lane Hackers had between themselves. With the Hackers, one was expected to pay respect to their betters first and foremost. The senior Hackers were mentors, something to aspire to become. Respect brought you credibility. Credibility was success. With the Navy, Graves had the impression it was quite different. Here, it was rigorous and formal. One could be quite informal with senior Hackers, because in a way, one grew to accept them as something akin to a family, a tribe, given enough time. The Military was just detatched from that. "Admiral Knight," Graves stated in greeding, giving her a polite nod out of habit, as it was the way he had greeted his Hacker colleagues up until now. The gesture had no prostration in it, which Graves liked, yet carried enough weight to convey a sense of respect.

He was actually quite impressed that she had dismissed the guard to be alone with him. Brave. Though given Knight's physique, she hardly needed to be protected. "Indeed I think it's time to talk. The neural net isn't the kind of place for the most sensitive of data, after all," he answered to her words, though remaining on his feet. Knight might have sat down but he wouldn't as long as he wasn't told to. In a way, the next few minutes would allow him to see in detail what Knight was for a person, and he was looking forward to that. She had gotten quite the reputation on the underbelly of the neural net, that was for sure. "Please, ask away, Admiral." Whatever he wanted to ask could wait. He was a guest, after all.

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Ramke

G. Graves

Skorak

G. Graves

Victoria Knight

G. Graves