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Hartley stood before the main reactor, rubbing his temples as he uttered a curse and forcibly kicked the panel.

You farkin pile of crap! He swore as he reached out for the growler phone, slamming it back into his cradle as he realized that without power the thing was useless.

What happened? Chuck asked sliding down a ladder with a plunk to the deckplates, straightening up as he turned his round face to stare at the reactor that was proving to be most uncooperative at that moment.

Tzaht has picked this moment to decide to be a complete bitch! Hartley snarled as he walked over to a breaker panel and looked at the fused penny stuffed into the matrix that had jerry-rigged the powerflow. It was only a matter of time until she gave up the ghost, but I was hoping wed have enough time to jump back to Tau-23 or something.

What happened? Fraser demanded as he came down the same ladder that Chuck had just descended.

What, am I directory farkin inquiries? I dont farkin know! Hartley snapped. This farkin ship has been shot up, crashed into, farked up, farked down and the Kusari did I mention the supreme *******s of the universe got loose onboard ship and turned us into a flying deathtrap? Which, I might add, was your farking idea he stopped suddenly and quickly added. Sir.

Colourful expressions aside, Chuck said, fighting the urge not to grin and the baleful glare Fraser was shooting his Chief Engineer. Can you fix it?

Fix it? Hartley asked as a shower of sparks exploded through one of the circuit breakers, causing all three men to duck instinctively. No I cant farking fix it! Its farked! Completely farked up! You want my professional opinion? Get another farking professional, cause I quit!

You cant quit, Chuck placated, tapping Hartleys arm as the Engineer simmered on a slow boil, glaring at his ruined engine room. You just need a cup of tea, eh? Maybe a bagel?

I dont need a farking bagel! Hartley snapped. I need a dry dock and maybe six months with a full Bretonian technical team. Even then I cant guarantee much, Tzahts had it. Im sorry but it is time to take her out back behind the shed and get the gun, cause olyellar needs tbe put outta her misery!

Fraser ran a hand through his hair as he stared at the diagnostic panels that were being powered by battery power. So you are telling me, he asked. That were stuck in the heart of Kusari space on a broken ship? He coughed, a little pale. Suggestions?

We I could always go outside and push, Hartley said furiously.

Prayer? Chuck suggested, turning.

Yeah cause god, or Eris or whatever, is gonna come rescue a bunch of Privateers that were, until this morning, butchering their way across Kusari

Distress call? Chuck suggested.

To who? Fraser asked.

The HMS Henrys Hammer or the HMS Shadow Slayer are supposedly in the vicinity, Chuck suggested. They might be able to swing by and give us some help.

Can we send out a distress call? Fraser asked.

Well figure something out, Chuck said firmly, yanking Hartley away from the ruin. Leaving Fraser to stare in frustration at what was left of his ship.

================

Sir Jack Fraser blew air through his teeth as he stared at his wrecked ship, it was going to take a whole heck of a lot of work to sort that mess out. He just hoped they could do it before the Kusari destroyer that had done the wrecking in the first place, came back for a second round.

He scrubbed a hand down his face, how exactly had he let Chuck talk him into taking his beloved funboat up against a Kusari thug destroyer?

***

(Two days before)


Coffee cradled in his hands, and the sole of a boot resting against the edge of the holographic display in front of him, Fraser stared out at nothing. A deserted system, in a deserted hole in the ass end of nowhere.

It had been weeks of cat-and-mouse games with the Kusari. Escort missions, Recon, Ambushes attacking and defending, in a myriad of different patterns that all wore down the nerves and fuelled the nightmares that they were all suffering from.

The zip up woollen sweater he was wearing was staring to wear. Little bobbles of wool appearing all over it from the near constant use. It was the only thing that he had which was warm, and ever since the Kusari had knocked out the primary environmental systems on the Tzaht, the ship had a terrible time in maintaining its heat.

It was a low priority system which, whenever they returned to Tau-23, was constantly being shunted aside for more critical repairs. They could live, however miserably, without sufficient heat, they couldnt live without guns or engines or the list ran on.

It was like the Bretonia and the Kusari had suddenly reversed their roles. Lacking any brilliant leadership with Sir Andrew gone, the QCP were floundering.

They were loosing the war.

The Kusari were pulling off brilliant tactical manoeuvres, concrete in their resolve they had seemed, with the absence of the self-proclaimed King of Spain, the Zoners and a myriad of other colourful places, to be back on their game. There was no doubting that some brilliant tactical hand that was guiding them to victory, before it had clearly been the KNF wielded as a blunt instrument, their admiralty lacking artistry. Now they had an artist wielding his brush and restoring order to all things.

Chuck was his usual charming self, stalking onto the bridge, his hair plastered to his head, greasy. The showers, naturally, had ceased to function two days before. Leaving the crew and the cluster of Marines that manned the ship smelly and frustrated.

I dont want to do this anymore, Chuck commented as he sat down at the Comm station, hauling his tablet towards him and wielding the stylus to access the latest Intel reports that were updated every morning from TAC-net.

Six months, no leave, Fraser nodded. I can see why youd feel that way.

It isnt even that, Chuck grumbled. Remember what it was like to go to sleep and wake up to decide our own missions? Independent action where we can actually take our own time off if we needed it

Youre a privateer now, Fraser yawned, sinking deeper into his sweater and sipping more of the bilge-water coffee. You dont get to pick and choose your missions, I do.

Actually, Chuck said, sitting up, his deep brown eyes flashing. What if I found us a nice, plump, independent action target that the BAF would love us to be all over.

What? Fraser asked curiously.

Well, theres a unique opportunity in the Intel this morning, Chuck smiled.

Unique opportunities were normally good things, assuming all went well, something that hadnt been happening much recently.

Judging by sensor data retrieved from footage of yesterday of a fight between a Kusari Hatchet and the HMS Uranus, It looks like one of the cruise engines built into the Hatchet was knocked out by flak fire. Uranus was pretty shot up and had to withdraw, but it looks like the Hatchets still there. Ordinarily wed have expected the crew to have activated a self destruct but by the looks of things we must have taken that out too because this image was taken by an AWACs flight tracking Sierra 3 half an hour ago.

Chuck pressed a button on the console and a section of the holographic display changed to reveal an image of a floating, critically damaged Hatchet drifting peacefully through space.

The ships still reasonably intact, and we know that most of the systems on a Hatchet are compatible with Bretonian tech, we could get some valuable spare parts to repair oh I dont know the showers?

Or the heat, Fraser murmured wistfully. Were close right?

Yep, Chuck said checking the navigation board. Shall I put a call in to base that were going to go and collect code books and all that?

Sure, Fraser replied. After all, it doesnt hurt to go and take a look.


================

The Bretonian Gunboats was nothing like her distant cousin the Hatchet. The two had been pitched, throughout the war, as symbols of both sides. Like the Messerschmitt and the Spitfire of World War Two, they were locked in a deadly duel for deep space. Each possessing impressive attributes that made them well suited to combat one another.

The Bretonian Gunboats had been built as a hunter-killer, to operate in wolf packs towards the end of the Nomad war. A title that they had more than earned with a reputation as ferocious combat vessels. Bulky and clean, sturdy and rugged. They had a resolve that wouldn’t surrender, capable of being a threat to ships many times her size. She was agile and quick, quad primary cannons gave her a bite, while her nano-augmented armour gave her a resilient toughness to match.

The Hatchet was a weapon of stealth and versatility. I/R baffles masked his engine wash, while carbon composites shielded her from prying eyes. She could be out fitted with an electronic warfare suite to foul up enemy radars, while his in-line pin-point mounts made missile fire impractical against her. Her modular design meant she was easy to repair, to configure and to deploy. A silent and deadly killer, she wasn’t to be intimidated by her Bretonian nemesis.

T’zaht trained her quad pulse cannons on her enemy as she slipped quietly through the darkness down upon him. Fraser leaning on the back of Wheeler’s chair, breathing down his neck as he watched for any sign of life that would have Chuck open fire and end the Hatchet once and for all.

“The Akira,” Chuck stated as the computer digitally enhanced the numbers painted upon the Hatchet’s hull. “Judging from the engine block slung outside, I’d say she is one of the new upgrades.”

“They all are these days,” Fraser murmured. “I remember when they used to be slow and underpowered…”

The Kusari had benefited greatly from the innovations of Kishiro technologies. Their ships receiving a much needed boost in technology that put them almost on par with Bretonian engineering. Dragons that could out run anything but new Templars. Hatchets that could, at last, keep up with the Bretonian Gunboats.

Fraser was simply thankful that the Kusari hadn’t outfitted the destroyers with Zero-point weaponry, or the war would have been finished a long time ago. Though he didn’t doubt that the Kusari cannon mounted to the bow, would be any less deadly.

“How do we do this,” Fraser murmured thoughtfully, walking back to the chart table behind the command chair, activating the holographic display to examine their quarry. “Standard compliment of Kusari Troopers on a Hatchet put it anywhere close to a platoon. Then there is the two man officer flight crew, and the engineer… we’re pretty severely outnumbered.”

“We can blow out their power systems,” Hartley suggested, standing back by the doors to the bridge the Senior Technician pointed to the dorsal side of the Hatchet. “There’s an access panel up here, I know because I had to work on one before the war when she was attached to 242nd. The latches aren’t as strong as the armour around it. One clean shot should fry their electrical systems, shut down life support and then we just wait while the crew suffocates…”

“Hello,” Chuck broke in. “They’ve spotted us… incoming fire.”

The shields flared, absorbing the auto-cannon fire from the pin-point defences. Dissipating the kinetic impact before it could be a real threat. Useful against fighters and missiles, the weapons were far too light to breach the Bretonian Gunboats’s shields.

“Their primary guns aren’t moving, and their missile launchers are still squarely latched,” Chuck reported. “They probably aren’t getting power down to them, engines are still dark.”

“Something’s wrong here,” Fraser said eying the hologram and looking out at the dancing blue light of the shield impacts. He touched the controls for a broader view of the area, taking in the nearby planet and its solitary moon.

“What is it?” Chuck asked turning back.

“Something feels wrong,” Fraser answered, folding his arms as he shook his head. “What would you do in this situation?” Fraser murmured walking towards the observation window, resting his hands on it as he stared out into the darkness. “Hatchet all alone, wounded bird… Missiles and turret both offline…” He looked back at Wheeler. “Pull us off and away, flank speed. Chuck I need to know if there are any readings on the scopes that might be a Hatchet sitting out there dark and silent…”

“What?” Chuck blinked, turning to comply hurriedly.

“I used to command a sloop,” Fraser said. “And I played this kind of trick. Bait and lure, see who comes up and then strike at it when it is least prepared. The Kusari are adapting Bretonian strategies…”

“Give me a pair of missiles,” Fraser ordered. “Fire at the crippled Hatchet… let’s see what they do if they think I’m not buying the ruse.”


================

Captain, we have something coming into scanner range, Chuck reported, his voice grim. New contact, bearing one oh seven mark two nine zero. Contact is coming about

Identity? Fraser requested uneasily. There wasnt supposed to be any Bretonian traffic in the Kyushu system aside from the TZaht, which meant it could be an Kusari SAR mission after their missing Hatchet.

Second Kusari Destroyer, Chuck responded. Contact is CBDR on our position. His weapon ports appear to be open.

Bring us about, get us out of here Mister Wheeler, Fraser settled with a scowl into his chair. So much for a decent shower.

The holographic displays projected the ominous Tommahawk-like vessel that had entered the system. Identical to the one they were standing over, there was nothing friendly about the intruder, he was there to foul Frasers plans, and that made her instantly detestable.

Hes launching cruise disruptors, Chuck warned.

I see them, Fraser replied tightly. Probably to cover the Hatchet Can we go to cruise?

Negative, Hartley responded over at engineering. Theyre still charging we still have thrusters.

Thrusters, Fraser smiled. Sir Andrew Stuart would have found some way to turn them to his advantage something particularly nasty for a Destroyer. Fraser frowned trying to think like Stuart.

Hatchet fanning out into an attack formation, Chuck reported. Shes on full thrusters trying to catch up to us.

Fraser smiled as an idea began to form. Mister Hartley, have you ever played follow the leader?

This aint no Farkin time for one of your games, skipper, Hartley said tightly from where he glowered at the far end of the bridge.

No, but I am willing to bet our friend out there isnt going to fire on his own destroyer take us in close to the crippled one, and whatever you do Mister Wheeler, Fraser clapped a hand on the young boys shoulder. Keep that ship between us an the moving one.

Wheeler spun the wheel of the ship his hands gliding over controls as the TZaht spun, slamming down and curving around the crippled destroyer. The new Hatchet tried to manoeuvre to get a shot, sweeping around to catch the agile TZaht that had already slipped around to the other side of the crippled one.

Chuck Fraser ordered as the Computer broke in with its: Incoming Missile.

On it, Chuck said, opening fire with the primary cannons, batting the missile down that had tried to catch them unprepared.

Great, Hartley muttered sipping his coffee as he held onto a support rail at the end of the bridge so now hes going to chase us round and round the other ship until what the rest of the farking KNF show up?

We have time, Fraser replied, already trying to work out what his new plan would be.

================

Cannons to the left of them, Cannon to the right of them, cannon to the fore of them. Volley and thunder!

The Alarm Klaxxon screamed as the TZaht streaked in low across the hull of the the lead Kusari Destroyer, her primary cannons carving up its shields, and its missiles gouging great holes into its hull. Moving under full impulse power creating the distraction for the rescue attempt. The small Kusari scouts trying to chase its reckless course along the destroyers hull.

The Hatchet rose up infront of the TZahts course, loosing a devastating volley of Missiles and disruptor fire. The TZaht rolled under the volley, its shields barely scraping along the tight corridor of weapons fire. Pulling downwards at the last moment as the Chimeras ran headlong into the full spread of missiles fired from thier own side.




The bridge of the TZaht was a scene straight out of hell. Bathed in the nightmarish red of the emergency lights, and the flickering orange of a fire burning on the gutted science console. Smoke filled the air, and the smell of ozone permeated the bridge. The back console exploded, shattering the large engineering display of the TZahts systems, large splinters of panelling decimating the crew-members standing before it.

Ducking the blast, Captain Fraser sat upright again, a string of orders flowing from his mouth. Watching his crew moving through the rituals of thier actions. Trying to keep the ship together through the suicide time buying maneouvers.

Chuck leaned over Tactical, desperately wrestling with the target locks, keeping them trained on the massive Kusari vessel surging like disturbed behamouth with a mouse darting around its wounded partner... or a tiger. "There goes another one Captain. But I cant guarantee these systems much longer."

His hand slapped down on the comm panel. "Hartley if we loose the tactical systems were all dead! Keep power diverted to those systems." A beep on the console beside him, drew his attention as Fraser noted a new target on his scopes. The Kusari planet, Aso. "Mister Wheeler...." Fraser was cut off by an explosion at the helm as the young helmsman was flung like a ragdoll from his console.

Fraser started to rise from his command chair, as another crewman darted across the bridge and took the helm, casting a quick glance back towards Captain Jack. Awaiting his orders.

"Dive us in towards first Hatchett again, keep us hugging its hull... itll save us from the others weapons fire, they wont risk firing on thier sister ship." Fraser reseated himself. Tapping another console key . "Medical emergency on the bridge. Doctor Marvin, Nurse TaRhya if you can spare any one it will be appreciated."

Chucks tense voice rose over the din of the klaxxons. "Sheilds down to 45% and falling. We wont hold up to much more sustained weapons fire."

Fraser cast the First Officer a glare. "Thank you Chuck, just concentrate on the weapons scopes and leave the job of getting us through this mess to me."

Another spread of missiles carved their way into TZahts hull, tearing through the already weakend shileds and vaporizing hull panels. TZaht shook violently from the blast, and throughout the ship, bulkheads buckled and strained from the impact.

Computer: "Hull breach deck 2, 3 and 4"

"Close those shields Chuck!" Frasers voice bellowed over the din.

The TZaht, trailing a stream of plazma, dove in under the bow of the crippled destroyer, and shot across its hull, its weapon systems hammering the active destroyers hull with concentrated blasts of fire. More Kusari Chimeras falling in to pursue her mercilessly. Behind, in the TZahts wake, 6 other fighters floated uselessly, out for the count.


================

Dulce et decorum est, propatrae mortae

A bulk head crashes to the deck behind his chair. The pall of death and the thick smell of acrid smoke filled the air. The shattered remains of one of the command consoles beside him reminded him that his luck still held. Fraser had been leaning over Wheeler’s shoulder at the helm when it had blown out. If Fraser had been in his command chair he would have been dead.

Some where on the decks below in the heart of the upper section, Nurse Ta’Rhya battled valiantly to save lives with her medical staff, Doctor Marvin had been killed in one of the Kusari's lucky first salvos. But with the primary cannon being blown apart, there was little hope left on those bloodstained decks.

Hartley had some how managed to keep the ship together, a long stream of cursing coming through the PA every time the Kusari destroyer scored another hit.

But they were dead in the water, floating on thrusters as the Kusari destroyer limped along side, closing the distance. Their intent apparent, they were going to attempt to board the T’Zaht and take her as a prize.

Frazer’d be damned if he let that happen.

This was his ship, he had fought hard to get her, now to loose her for this....

The Captain rose standing on the heaving deck, staring out from the murky depths of fatigue and adrenalin. The ship around him was a ruin, the shattered bulkheads, the blackened consoles. Wheeler grimly at the helm pulling the ship through tight maneuvers, Chuck at the tactical station, quivering from fatigue, trying to wrestle with failing weapons systems. The situation was dire.

“Order our marines to the main hatches.” Fraser turn to Chuck’s shocked face. As Fraser tap a key on the arm of his command chair. “All hands this is the Captain, stand by for Kusari boarding parties, our marines are deployed… lets give them a hand moping the floor with these Kusari B*st*rds.”


================

Fraser ducked behind a bulkhead, reloading his sonic disruptor. The Kusari were aboard.

They’d pushed hard, the crew and marines of the T’Zaht being pushed back steadily through the gunboat by the superior numbers of Kusari troops. But finally, taking a stand in one of the cargo bays, the crew were finally holding their own, thanks, in no small part, to Hartley’s wizardry with explosives.

“I’m out of explosives,” Hartley said kneeling down beside the skipper, rooting unsuccessfully through his magic bag of tricks for anything that could go boom.

“I don’t need to hear that now,” Fraser replied, swinging around and blasting a Kusari officer that was stupid enough to be standing out in the open.

The Sonic disruptor was a weapon that killed by agitating molecules at ultra high frequencies, boiling the brain of the targets and even causing bone to shatter if struck correctly.

“Yeah well, you wanted me to vent compartment three, and that took up the last of my C-4 not to mention my last canister of propane.” Hartley shook his head. “Farking Kusari just don’t know when to quit, eh?”

“No one quits when they are winning,” Chuck pointed out, his Enfield assault rifle to his shoulder spraying across the cargo bay.

“Well maybe they should just learn,” Hartley muttered. “I mean, what’s the big deal anyway. Just give us back the Taus, go home and play a game of twister with their empress or something…”

“Kusari have an Emperor…” a Kusari yelled across the cargo bay.

“Yeah?” Hartley yelled back. “I heard he wears a dress and likes to paint his face like a Geisha girl… so I guess that kinda makes him Empress in my book!”

“You go to bad place Gaijin!” the Kusari cursed.

Hartley scrubbed a hand down his face and scowled, “Damned Kusari can’t even come up with a good insult… must be all that breast feeding… what were you, ten before mummy let you off the teet?”

“I do not smell like cheese, white monkey!” the Kusari threw back.

“Cheese?” Hartley frowned. “why don’t you come out from behind that box, and I will show you what this White Monkey can do you…”

“Hartley,” Fraser said resting a hand on his engineer’s shoulder. “We need to figure out how to save the ship…”

“There’s little worth saving,” Hartley replied. “I’d actually recommend we go back home, buy a new ship and try this whole thing over again!”

“Get a new ship?” Chuck inquired glancing over at them. “Junker’s ships’R’us is close by. I am sure they’d sell us a LABC for cheap, seems anyone who is anyone can buy one of those things second hand… I have my credit card handy… think they deliver?”

“There’s only one place to get a new ship,” Fraser said, pointing down the corridor towards the connecting hatch that led to the Kusari destroyer.

“Oh you have to be kidding me,” Hartley moaned. “How in the name of god do you intend to capture a Kusari ship with a handful of men and a broken ship?”

“Simple,” Fraser said. “Most of their crew are aboard our ship right now, and they left the front door open. We just need to get past them, close the door and storm the dessie…”

“And for Skipper’s next trick, he is going to pull a rabbit out of his Ar-.”

“No,” Fraser said, kicking the access grate to the engineering snake pit that ran directly under the cargo bay. A small crawl space that would take them right under the boarding Kusari.

Chuck smiled, “Cap’n Jack, you are a sly old buzzard…”

“Let them take the Tazzy…” Fraser said. “From the crawl space we can sabotage the CO2 scrubbers and leave the Kusari to suffocate.”

“Great plan,” Hartley murmured. “Save one thing, who’s gonna clean up the mess afterwards?”

“You are,” Fraser said with a smile.


================

Fraser scrambled up and out of the crawlspace, striding back as he un-holstered his Sonic Disruptor, the Marine Company checking their own weapons, as they stood ready in the hold around the docking tube that connected them to the Destroyer.

Behind them the Kusari already aboard the T’Zaht had no idea that the crew had slipped past them, and were still attempting to flank the cargo bay and sieze control of the deserted Bretonian gunboat. Unaware that the CO2 scrubbers had ceased to function and that with each breath, they were turning the air about them toxic.

The motley collection of his crew armed their own weapons as Hartley flashed a toothy grin at Fraser, hefting a shock grenade, nodding to one of the marines who pulled open the hatch on the surprised Kusari officer who was coming down the tube.

The grenade bounced past him as he looked down at it clattering down the short hatch tube, bouncing into the midst of the technicians that had clustered beneath it. The one climbing the ladder looked up again as it blew, a marine rifle barking once killing him instantly.

“Go!” Chuck bellowed, pushing his troops ahead one at a time as they dropped down to the deck below, coming up with their pulse rifles and clearing the room exactly as they had been taught, covering the other marines dropping down beside them.

There was a burst of gunfire as Chuck gestured to Hartley’s squad of T’Zaht crew members, sending them down into the Destroyer next. He glanced across at Fraser, “You sure you want to come with?”

“Can’t stay here,” Fraser said tightly, easing his grip around the Sonic Disruptor as he tensed, nodding to the First Officer as he jumped down the ladder into the Destroyer.

He turned as the first Kusari boarder from the T’Zaht tried to sprint for home. Fraser smiling at him as he pulled the pin from a grenade and tossed it into the docking tube. The Kusari’s face was priceless as he dived for cover… Hartley already slamming the access controls to seal the airlock as the grenade detonated, tearing the docking tube to shreds and separating the two ships.

Through the window of the airlock, Fraser watched the unfortunate Kusari trooper getting sucked through the open T’Zaht’s airlock, as the gunboat began to decompress. Emergency protocols slamming bulkheads shut aboard the ship, sealing the bulk of the Kusari destroyer’s crew into the flying coffin. Trapped with their own poisonous air.

Fraser turned.

There were bodies everywhere; the Kusari, unprepared for the attack had been caught by surprise; the marines, knowing their specific targets already, worked their way through the ship to secure their objectives.

Chuck joined him a few moments later with the rest of the six-man squad, the team spreading out to begin the advance on the bridge, sweeping forward as the sound of gunfire reverberated from somewhere deep in the bowels of the warship.

Fraser took a deep breath. He jogged through the ship, marines forming up around him and Chuck as they advanced, Chuck swinging his Pulse rifle diligently, covering his men as he ordered them forward with hand gestures. A couple of shots were fired their way, as an Kusari crewmen burst from a side corridor, trying to get to the cover of the opposite hall.

Fraser’s Sonic Disruptor struck the Kusari squarely, sending him flying like a rag doll, to lie crumpled against a bulkhead.

“Cracking shot, Skipper!” Chuck exclaimed in amazement.

Fraser shrugged. “All in the wrist,” he replied as they moved forward.

“Captain!” came the desperate cry over the TAC-net, Fraser and Chuck exchanging looks, both knowing the mission was in trouble.

“Three, One, come in Three?” Chuck called into his TAC-link. “Damn!” he exclaimed.


================

The hurried reports indicated that the Kusari captain had donned a suit of Kusari Samurai battle armour and was stalking the ship.

They had nothing with the kind of firepower it took to take down a Samurai, at least the marines didnt. Fraser lifted his Sonic Disruptor, glancing at the First Officer. Take the bridge, he ordered tightly.

With due respect, sir, Chuck said tightly, youre not figurin on taking that thing on alone are you?

Fraser clapped the stalwart Bretonian on the shoulder and smiled. Go, take the bridge, trust me.

Chuck nodded. Aye, Skipper. He gestured again to his men and they carried on forward as Fraser cut down a side passage, heading towards the last known location of Squad Three.

The close atmosphere of the Kusari Destroyer, bathed in its red emergency lights, was claustrophobic. He slowed as he flexed his hands around the pistol, raising the weapon as he swung around a corner, crossing another connecting hall, his eyes sweeping every direction as the weapon swung effortlessly to and fro.

Hed fought a Kusari Samurai before; the creatures seemed unaffected by bullets, shrugging them off as if they had no effect. The creatures would keep coming until shot by something capable of delivering a massive system shock.

He wasnt sure the Sonic Disruptor was up to the task, but they didnt have anything else to stop the creature that would tear its way through the defenseless marines.

He saw a couple of marines and a crewman exchanging fire with a few surviving Kusari troopers through a cargo bay, and he circled around the fire fight, keeping his eyes peeled for the Samurai.

He was glad of the black gloves he wore; the leather covered the fact that his palms were moist with nervous anticipation. He was alone now, alone with a Samurai lurking nearby.

The cargo bay he moved into housed cargo containers from seized vessels, lit by circular lights in the ceiling that shone down making small circles of light and plunging the rest of the large bay into shadows. There was a light rattling from the life-support machinery that had malfunctioned and created a damp that left condensation on the walls and made the deck plates slick beneath his feet.

Years of hunting criminals through some of the worst cesspools in Bretonia for the BPA had given him a natural caution. He noticed the dead bodies of the Karin marines that had been set upon by the Samurai, dark burn marks on their uniforms where the Samurais energy weapon had struck them. Fraser knelt beside one, his pistol still at the ready, confirming they were dead, as he rose slowly.

He wasnt afraid -- he found that strange. He knew a Samurai could be beaten, hed beaten one before. So long as he kept his wits about him he would be okay.

He heard something; it was faint, the faintest hint of what he searched for, and it was gone almost as soon as he caught it. A disciplined creature, one that knew the slightest sound would give it away. But it was too late. Fraser rose to his feet, he had found his Samurai. I know you can hear me, he said in calm even tones.

The only sound was the occasional burst of weapons fire elsewhere in the ship.

I can hear you, he said again as he allowed his footfalls to echo into silence.

Your heart beating, the ragged breaths youre taking, the fear you are feeling.

He swung the weapon about again, searching about the shadows. I know youre here, Fraser continued, his voice echoing through the bay, I can see your handiwork. He glanced at the dead marines. You're a predator; you prey on the weak, the defenseless. How does it feel to be in their place now?

There was still no reply.

How does it feel to know that you are the one that is being hunted? he asked aloud, the sound of the marines entering the bay behind him made him feel relieved.

There is no escape. I know where you are. The Sonic Disruptor lifted slightly. I will shoot you if I have to.

There was a roar from beside him; the Samurai propelled himself out of the shadows towards his hunter, extending those deadly hands towards Frasers throat. Fraser sidestepped the clumsy assault propelling the alien towards a pile of crates and sending it sprawling. His Sonic Disruptor skittered across the deck as he lost his hold on it.


================

It whirred and clanked about like a massive, undulating death machine.

Fraser was losing and he knew it, the power armour was landing blows with a rapidity bred into his species, one that no human body could match. Fraser staggered as the Samurai sent him sprawling across the deck.

The pair of marines opened fire with their pulse rifles unloading a full magazine apiece into the creature; it simply ignored the wounds as it reached out its hands to choke the life from the fallen Bretonian Captain.

There was a yell, as, out of seemingly nowhere, Hartley dropped from atop some crates, a large sledge hammer swinging into the head of the Samurai power armour. Smashing home. Fraser watched in shock as the engineer was thrown off of the Samurai and slammed into the marines knocking them all to the deck.

Fraser didnt hesitate; he scrambled across the deck, scooping up his Sonic Disruptor from where it had fallen, trained in and fired. The concussive energy smashed the Samurai through crates. As the Samurai stumbled to its feet again, Fraser fired a second shot, and a third, advancing steadily, emptying the Sonic Disruptor into the creature, throwing it up against a bulkhead as the sonic weapon pounded the resilient machine into pulp.

He lowered the weapon breathing heavily, the black oozing paste of haydraulic fluid and blood that had once been a Samurai slid down the bulkhead to pool on the deck, and Fraser turned to check on his men.

Hartley was bruised but smiling in pride, as the two marines picked themselves up, both of them shocked that their skipper had killed it.

Go, help secure the ship, Fraser said sliding his Sonic Disruptor back into its holster.

Feeling the bruise on his jaw with his other hand, he glanced over at Hartley and said, I owe you one.

Hartley smiled and winked bending down to pick up a spare pulse rifle and following Fraser as he marched through the corridors of the captured Kusari Destroyer.

Chuck had secured the bridge, the First Officer looking up at Fraser as the Captain walked through onto the tightly packed bridge, running his hands over the command consoles and checking data.

It was so clean, white and plastic. Gleaming and shiny in a way that seemed so alien to the Bretonian skipper used to the blast plates and grime of the TZaht. Holographic controls, floating repeater displays. It was ultra modern, the pinnacle of Kishiro Technologies design teams.

Were restoring communications now, Chuck reported dutifully. I present to the Captain with the prize-ship umm something I cant pronounce.

Fraser nodded his head. I accept this prize in the name of the Queen, he replied formally, coming down to the lower deck and staring out of the observation ports at the crippled Kusari destroyer, outgunned and outnumbered and totally oblivious to the fate that had befallen its comrade.


Across, the TZaht floated, in a few hours a deathtrap to the Kusari crew that occupied her. Fraser gritted his teeth as he sat in the command chair of the destroyer

Dagobaz, he commented.

Sir? Chuck asked.

HMS Dagobaz, Fraser replied. Old Punjabi word, means trickster. Seems fitting for the first Kusari Destroyer captured by the Privateers get the comms working and see if you cant reach the GC and the rest of the Privateers. Someone amongst the Kusari is going to be wondering what happened to their two destroyers and since we dont have the man power to take over two ships might as well see if we cant get a favour out to our friends.

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