**TRANSMISSION BEGIN**

Hello? hello? is anyone reading this?

This is Unit 982, captain in the Tecarian Navy, currently assigned to a Titan Class Barge.

Our task force was ambushed by pirates.

My ship was the only one to escape, but our engines have been heavily damaged.

We cannot maintain stable orbit and require immediate rescue.

EXPLOSION; DISTANT, SMALL

What the hell was that!?

UNINTELLIGIBLE

I though we killed all of the pirates!

UNINTELLIGIBLE

Well stop them!

EXPLOSION; CLOSE
GUNFIRE

Cap'n? Cap'n are you reading this?
Damnit! get this ship back into orbit!
The controls aren't responding!
well make them respond!
I ain't interested in going down with a ship that ain't even mine!
Nevermind all the loot we'll lose!
**TRANSMISSION END**

Ounce Neb decided everything had succifiently settled down outside that everyone was either dead or complacent, he ventured to communicate with his squadmates, thus far present only in the dim blue glow of their visors.

"everyone alright?" he broadcasted over the squad's private comm channel

"yes sir!" "yeah" "no" came the responses, the last of which brought the squad instantly to attention, Neb switched his systems from passive to full combat readout, his HUD suddenly assaulted with sensor data and threat/strength markers as it outlined his squad in an allied blue.

"what's wrong!?" he asked as placed a hand on his rifle, readying himself for whatever measures the situation demands

"my paint got scratched" and with that, the bubble of tension simply deflated, leaving the other 3 lancer droids with a metaphorical bitter taste in their metaphorical mouths, such was pretty usual of Oz's antics though

"what are the sensors saying?" Basic inquired, not allowing the frustration of Oz's false alarm to linger too long

"nothing moving or breathing on board that I can find, this thick crate messes with my scans a bit though, I can say for sure that we're too deep into the ground to get the bay doors open, so once we get out, we'll be on foot"

"aw man" Oz reinserted himself into the conversation "I was hoping that for once we'd get to ride in one of those APCs that I hear are so nice"
Neb carried on in his duties by responding to Oz with orders for the squad "Basic, get this crate open. Carmine, inventory, I wanna know what's working and what isn't. Oz, shut the hell up. I'll check for any available comm channels"

"There don't appear to be any open channels" Neb finally conceded

"door's open boss" "all equipment in order and functional sir!" came the reports, followed, anticlimactically, by "hang on I might need another minute to finish this"

Alright I started a co-write with a friend, this story will be centered around a race of sentient AI. My friend should also be making an account soon and will be able to answer all your questions. The lancers and all Sentient AI designs, names, ships guns, etc. belong to him.

Please R&R