Commandeered (Kor/Jonny)

[Azhtek]

Ivo spun in his chair to face the bow of his ship. The reinforced shutters, designed to block radiation and keep in atmosphere, slid lazily over the toughened glass until they hid themselves a way. A hollow clunk signified that they were now locked in place. The glaring intensity of a large, yellow sun filled his vision. He squinted and muttered a command to the ship's computer and the glass darkened, filtering out the harsh light.

Behind him, the sound of his FTL drive whined in increasingly lower pitch as it powered down. He'd spent two days at four-hundred times light speed hauling cargo across the cosmos. He brought up a display showing the status of his cargo hold. Glowing blue letters beamed back at him.

Cargo load: Classified
Cargo mass: 184.993 tonne
Stasis shielding: 100%
Cargo bay integrity: 100%
Cargo integrity: 100%
Cargo atmosphere: Nominal

Ivo exhaled a breathe of relief and slid down in his seat slightly. The visor of his helmet fogged before the excess moisture was drawn out. He had no reason to believe that the cargo would in any way be damaged. The ship's computer would have alerted him if the haul had moved even a millimetre. All the same, he'd invested a lot to take up the contract hauling his load of... Well, even he didn't know what it was.

The contract had required him to place a deposit down for the insurance, should the cargo be damaged in any way. The cost of the security deposit had amounted to his entire life savings, leaving him with just enough to survive for a week or two should something have happened to his ship. The pay-off for the contract would set him up for a long time. A simple grab and go mission. He assumed that the cargo was volatile, valuable and perhaps illegal, but he'd hauled some of everything. His ship had enough defensive measures and was large enough to fend off eager pirates.

The client had been very eager to not use jump gates, which were favoured by couriers due to how quickly you could arrive at a destination. They utilised wormholes to send you to the other side of the galaxy in seconds, rather than days, weeks, months or years. This is why Ivo had been stuck in FTL for two solid days.

Ivo closed the cargo panel and looked up through the glass into space. With the intensity of the sun dimmed, he could make out the silhouette of the massive space station which he'd been instructed to deliver to. He keyed the public command centre frequency and issued a docking request.

Only a second later, he was given a response, a synthetic voice talking to him through his helmet.

"Pilot, this is Archimedes station. Docking request acknowledged. Please proceed to docking bay 29 for inspection and unloading."

Ivo didn't respond. He didn't need to. With acknowledgement from the station's command, his ship's docking computer began mapping a trajectory to the hanger.

The big ship was a classic cargo hauler from a more militarily-minded time. It was a large, long-bodied hauler, a burnt beige in colour, designed to bring supplies to remote outposts. Its curved nose, which contained a vast sensor array, had earned it the name Kestrel from its designers, but Ivo had always thought it resembled a whale more than a bird due to its bulky hull.

Defensive countermeasures lined its sides. Drop beacons to throw off pursuers, signal scramblers to confuse missiles, heatsink dumps when Ivo needed to drop heat from the engines fast for any number of reasons. Towards the bow of the ship were hardpoints which housed three high-intensity laser cannons, and two auto-Gause cannons. Mines, electronic countermeasures and a combat drone were also in the ship's arsenal.

As his ship hovered through the mouth of the space station, Ivo busied himself with checking the cargo hold once again. Everything was in order, but he was still nervous. He wanted that cargo off his ship and the money in his account. He'd hauled all kinds of contraband in his day, but he didn't have anything invested in those deliveries. He had everything to lose should this one go south.

His worried mind was shaken as his ship touched down gently on the landing pad's mechanical arms locked the feet of his ship do the platform. Ivo stood and disembarked from his ship, removing his helmet in the process now that the concern of explosive decompression was significantly diminished.

Ivo was a large white tiger. Perhaps more of a hulking white tiger. He stood a good seven feet tall, and his form-hugging flight suit made it easy to see that he was very physically fit. He had piercing green eyes, and a thick, ugly scar that ran across his throat and up over his jaw on the left side.

A small but authoritative voice called out from the doorway to cargo processing. "Kestrel 995-DR4667!"

Ivo looked up at the mention of his ship's designation. A mouse dressed in a fluorescent yellow jumpsuit with the station's name emblazoned across the chest was approaching the landing pad. The mouse was almost half the size of Ivo. He approached the imposing tiger with a clear glass tablet held in his hand. The tablet was buzzing with information and activity, showing a live status stream of everything going on in the hanger. The mouse referred to the tablet and the delivery manifesto that the ship's computer had relayed to command.

"Sorry, Mr. Wyatt," the little mouse said, reading the name from the manifesto. Ivo could hear exhaustion in his voice. "We're backed up in cargo receivals. Had an entire receival line go down due to contamination."

Ivo swore under his breath. "How long is the delay? I've got to get this cargo offloaded yesterday." The tiger's voice was deep, but sharp, easily heard over the din of the hanger.

The mouse's tired eyes found Ivo's. "Going to be another couple of hours minimum until we get the second line back up. Until then, you're looking at a five hour layover until this shit clears up and well be able to process your haul."

Ivo wanted to curse the small mouse out, but he held back his old anger. This guy was doing his job and trying to make the shitshow currently on display work to everyone's benefit. The tiger ran a hand through his short headfur. "Well, fuck," muttered the big cat.

The mouse nodded. "Sorry, sir. If you'd like, there's a bar on deck 93, Orbital Junction. If you head there and say that Reev sent you, you'll be able to get a few drinks for free."

Ivo considered staying in the hanger with his ship and the cargo. But the promise of a drink, a free one at that, and softer seating than a flight chair, were too tempting to pass up. Ivo nodded to the mouse in thanks, and the brightly-dressed rodent wandered off, likely to tell another sod that there was going to be a delay.

The big tiger took one last look up at his ship. It'll be fine, he assured himself. A few more hours and I'll have a nice little payday.

Ivo, still holding his flight helmet, turned away from his ship and headed to the elevator that would take him to deck 93, and the promise of free alcohol.



The elevator dinged softly and the doors slid open. Ivo was instantly assaulted by the low hum of chatter. It appeared that deck 93 was entirely a social platform.

The big cat disembarked from the elevator and began to work his way through the crowd. Across the spacious floor he could make out a glowing neon sign that read "Orbital Junction" with a 1960's-styled rocket beside the lettering.

After a few minutes of pushing past the swarm of people, he arrived at the bar. Despite how active it was outside of the bar, the inside was surprisingly quiet, and pleasantly dark.

The big tiger approached the bar and leaned forward on the surface. A standard robotic bartender approached him. The machine was bare minimum spec; it was fundamentally a humanoid shape, but it didn't have a face, and its internals were mostly exposed. It spoke happily in a synthetic voice. "Welcome to Orbital Junction. What can I get for you today?"

"Reev sent me."

The machine took a moment to respond. "Acknowledged. What can I get for you today?"

Ivo moved closer to the bar and took a seat. "Bourbon, straight, two fingers." He rested his head on the palm of his hand and yawned. The robot gave a quick "Yes sir!" and poured the tiger his drink. Ivo nodded in thanks and closed his eyes for a moment as he brought the drink up to his lips and took a sip.

Tastes like shit, he thought. But free was free and booze was booze, so he quietly sat, waiting for a notification that his ship's cargo had been received.

[Joncat]

"Orbital Junction."

Cantor glanced up from his wrist-mounted holo-tablet after it chirruped, indicating he'd reached the end of his route. The snow leopard had been told this was the place to find some freelance work out in the shipping lanes of deep space. He was a little disappointed by the goofy-looking neon rocket sign above the entrance. It hardly seemed like the kind of place dangerous bad-asses would gather to find work out on the space-frontier.

Cantor was a freelancer is the loosest sense of the word though, and a good samaritan had directed him here, hoping he could at least minimize the trouble the kid was inevitably going to get himself into. There were much more dangerous bars on the station.

Cantor wasn't a large person by any means, and his suit, a rather spendy affair with a lot of built-in conveniences for the rich kid on the go, hugged his frame tightly. The suit itself was a pleasant aqua color, with darker trim. His right wrist was enveloped by a sleek, new-age all-in-one portable computer that'd probably cost a shit load of money.

It wasn't all harmless tech stuff though, never having lacked for money in the past, the kitten with big dreams of fame and fortune had at least been smart enough to pick up a few weapons. The wrist console hid a taser that went from light jolt to heart-explode, although that was a last resort, since it could drain the battery pretty quickly and render his computer useless until he could get it charged again.
Much more noticeable was the fusion pistol at his hip. An expensive, high-powered piece from the Hector-Yuuto line of personal defense weapons.

The young cat took a deep breath and walked through the door of the bar and stopped to take stock of the (hopefully) wretched hive of scum an villainy. It was immediately clear to anyone who looked up that this kid had no idea what he was doing and was in over his head already.

[Azhtek]

Everyone in the bar who wasn't already unconscious looked up at the new entrant to the bar. Those who weren't seconds away from being blackout drunk kept their eyes on the feline for a few moments more. His small stature and the gear he was flaunting perked the interest of those perhaps less than charitable. He could be a target for anything from a quick mugging to ransom, given how expensive his kit looked.

Ivo glanced over his shoulder at the small leopard. His looked the boy over and scoffed quietly before turning back to his drink. He'd seen kids like that one plenty of times before. They seemed to come from rich families who'd profited greatly from the war, and as such had managed to shelter their offspring from the brutal realities that the rest of the galaxy had to deal with.

Often, they tried to join a crew so they could see the stars, experience some adventure, before returning home to get a seat in their dad's company. In his learned years, he'd come to expect a complete attitude of entitlement out of kids like that.

He swallowed the last of his drink and signalled for the bartender to pour him another. The machine obliged, refilling the glass with the amber alcohol. Ivo looked down at the progress queue for offloading. The cargo had been removed from his ship, which was good, but there were another five hours of processing time before they could be accepted by the receiving party. Ivo sighed. Shitty journey, shitty cargo bay, shitty bourbon in a shitty bar in a shitty part of space. Nothing could make this situation any shitter.

[Azhtek]

"Sir, we've arrived at Archimedes station. Distance 1200 kilometres, holding." A technician manning a console turned from his station on the bridge to look up at the figure on the platform above him. "We're as close as we can be to Archimedes before they can see through our signal jammer."

The figure leaned forward against the railing on the platform, a wry grin spreading across his lips. He gazed out of the fore windows of the command centre of his ship at a magnified view of the Archimedes station. He'd received a very alluring tip-off that some cargo well worth his time.

The ship he commanded was big. A massive dreadnought from a war he'd fought and lost. The craft was massive by any standard, being twice the size of the Archimedes station and armed to the teeth with enough armaments to lay waste to entire fleets of enemy ships. The hanger was filled with two dozen fighter ships, all armed and prepped for combat at a moment's notice. Right now, each fighter had two bodies in the cockpit: a pilot and a gunner.

The dreadnought was once known as the HMS Liberty. Back then, it was bright white ship emblazoned with a now-defunct government's emblem plastered across the side as a giant "fuck you" to any opposing forces who managed to glimpse it. The commander had taken liberties once the ship fell solely into his own hands. He'd had it painted black to help him hide amongst the inky backdrop of space, and had renamed her Kronos, the Greek titan who ruled the cosmos and time.

The commander aboard the Kronos been an admiral of the ship during the war. When the call for surrender was sounded, he had refused to give up his life and his crew for whatever it was that would happen. Those who had wanted out were given safe passage, and those who remained now crewed the ship. They had, of course, picked up mercenaries along the way to help keep numbers afloat for their various activities.

"Sir?" The technician's voice called up to the admiral. "All stations report ready for incursion. On your command."

The admiral nodded to the technician. "Deploy fighters. Prepare the boarding parties and a cargo transport. I want the cargo bay of the Archimedes untouched."

The technician nodded and obeyed, relaying the orders to the hanger. The admiral continued to look forward, his frame leaning on the polished brass rails on his platform. The two dozen fighters, all with trained, military-hardened men at the helm, filled the view of the bridge. They began to accelerate towards the station. No doubt they'd been picked up on scanners already.

The admiral took a deep breath. He felt tense. The excitement of plundering and looting never failed to stir him. He exhaled, his breath shaky as he relayed a command to the technician. "Fire upon Archimedes."

The Kronos' fore cannons began to thrum, the sound audible through the many layers of the ship. White light from beneath the nose of the Kronos could be seen from the bridge as the cannons' charge peaked. With a shuddering thoom, five jets of light shot from the front of the dreadnought. They lingered for a moment before quickly fading away. 1200 kilometres away, the top of Archimedes station, which housed the communication and command tower, disintegrated in a ball of pale flames.

It had been five minutes since Ivo had ordered is drink.

[Joncat]

Cantor swallowed, and barely stopped himself from taking a nervous step backwards when every set of eyes swiveled to lock onto him. The fact that most of them looked away again after did very little to lower the hackles on the back of his neck. He coughed and cleared his throat, screwing his face up with resolve, then strode up to the counter. He sat down, a seat separating him from the burly-looking tiger.

"I'll take a whiskey," he addressed the bar-droid, his voice cracking at the end of 'whiskey'.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck. His face was flushed hotly under his fur. He felt like a child. He did his best to gloss over it though, and thumped his chest, clearing his throat once again. Maybe everyone would think he just had something in his throat.

The droid's cheerful chirruped agreement annoyed him. One one level, he knew it was a droid, but it was impossible not project what he imagined the rough-looking spacers were thinking onto the blank robot.

He sat in silence for a few minutes, stealing glances sideways at the tiger. While the kid wasn't worldly by any sense of the word, he knew the look of blue collar 'space truckers' and their like from his father's business. He downed the shot to warm up his courage and he turned in his seat to the tiger, "I'm looking for work."
His jaw was set tight while he waited for a response from the stranger.

[Azhtek]

"That so?" Ivos voice was deadpan. There was no hint of curiosity there at all, and all the indication that he didn't wish to have this conversation that he could muster. He busied himself with finishing his drink and waved the bartender back over for a refill.

He couldn't say that he was any stranger to the sort of person that this kid was. He'd been approached by doe-eyed youngsters of all sorts, most of them post-war children who never experienced the thrill of frontier space life, and thought that money could protect them. Reality often disagreed with that notion.

He cast a very quick sideways glance to the boy who was sat just a bit too close for comfort, before returning to his glass, which now sat with an exact measuring of alcohol, courtesy of the droid.

The droid didn't leave immediately, and instead spoke to him with far too much joy in its simulated voice for a place like this. "Any further drinks will incur a cost. Thank you for your patronage."

Ivo grunted in acknowledgment. He'd have serious regrets paying for this swill, but he was probably going to if he had any hope of getting through any conversation this kid wanted to have.

He looked down at a display on his wrist. Still a couple more hours. This was going to be agony.