AN: Firstly I would like to apologise, but I'm British bastard and offer no apologies, any mistakes found in this chapter please forward them to Stratcat, the Grammer Nazi Irishman, because he's the Grammar Police and fixing this shit was his responsibility, Drunk Liam takes no responsibility he was drunk the entire time.

Menial Morriss has been demoted to negative twenty six Menial, for he miscounted the Lasguns and counting the Lasguns is his sole job and he's shit at it.

Mike is Mike, because he's Mike, he turns up and contributes, to what? I have no idea, the man does nothing but distract me with terrible memes and shit puns.

Eudi is new and has yet to convert to being a Normie, his Furry ways will bring about the Furry Apocalypse upon my discord.

Uber is Uber, he does NOT deliver food he is a shit Uber.

Dragon is BadDragon, do not look that up kids!

October 11th, 2206 EMC [Earth Military Calendar] 2150 CE [Common Era].
Human Systems Alliance Space, Frontier Colonial Systems.
Ragnar-Alpha Sector, Ragnar Super Gas Giant.
SSV LION R-106, Combat Information Centre [CIC].

[Play: Aztec Camera: Good Morning Britain – Best of British]

Standing beside the war table Liam couldn't help but feel impressed by the glowing reports coming through his personal PADD, Senior and Junior officers on both sides had taken to their new colleagues with professionalism vary rarely seen on regular Systems Alliance crew transfers never mind the first ever interspecies transfer.

The Invictus's surviving crew of one hundred ninety Turian's and seven Quarian's had taken to their duties with grit and determination. leaving their supervisors with nothing but the best to say about them, needless to say they were more than fitting in, they were dedicated and fully committed to learning the ins and outs of their new postings.

Liam chuckled when he read the report from Chief Engineer Dave "Scotty" Carson which had just popped up in his inbox.

Nothing but bloody godsends.
Get fucked if you think you're pulling them out from under me.
-Scotty.

Liam typed a quick reply before continuing to look through the morning reports. Major Fenix the Lion's senior most marine had taken a shine to what he had coined as the Steel Raptor troop, apparently even the strict regulations of the Turian Hierarchy left a lot of room in them for creative thinking especially for Turian marines which captured and held planetary beach heads.

The troop was being led by a grizzled tough as nails Lieutenant Tyber Zaan, who if rumours from Commander Nyx were to be believed, had refused countless promotions throughout his career, refusing to take what was the Turian equivalent of a desk job in the rear echelons, preferring to put his talons in the dirt alongside his fellow marines.

Another, somewhat less pleasant, pleasant surprise where the two Chief Medical officers the pair were cantankerous and drank nothing but the top shelf supply, so much so Liam genuinely believed the pair were genetically enhanced with a super-efficient liver; no normal man should be able to drink as much as the pair of them did on a regular basis.

All of the Lion's medical staff and crew first aiders new and old were being brought back up to speed on basic combat dressings, for all species aboard the Lion.
There was also the addition of a sterilisation field generator which had been appropriated from the Systems Alliance hospital ship Boadicea for use in the primary medical bay, mostly as a health and safety measure for the seven Quarian members of the Lion.

With the addition of what had survived from the Invictus's medical bay being installed alongside the Systems Alliance standard medical tech, the Lion had found herself housing one of the most extensive and state of the art medical bays in the entire navy.

The surviving engineers both Quarian and Turian had managed to improve the Lion's eezo systems over the last four days, not surprising considering that the known galactic community solely relied on one of the rarest minerals in existence, rather than using it to enhance or diversify their own technological developments.

Apparently the entire Invictus crew had been led to believe that we had no eezo technology in our space vessels at all, we did, but it was only developed and implemented enough that any vessel could use the relays three or four times a day, maybe in an emergency it could be pushed to six, but you were liable to blow something important doing so.
So, with some degree of oversight the Lions engineers watched their Turian counterparts Improve those few systems with a great deal of enthusiasm, pushing an extra twenty-six percent in their efficiency

All around there was little friction, of course nothing is perfect and friction did come up from time to time, but Liam had fewer issues with a crew from an entirely different sapient species, than he'd had from another crew from his own. Needless to say, CIC had new faces dotted throughout, he was broken from my thoughts when a report from Demeter anchorage pinged his PADD.

To: Lion Actual: Captain: Spruce, Liam. ID: LD-30226473-S.

From: Demeter Actual: Admiral: Cutter James. ID: JC-28966562-C.

Subject: Missing Munitions.

Forwarded From: Demeter Military Police: Sergeant: Goldblum, Jeff. ID: JL-25679385-G [MP-99753].

Sir, our investigation into your missing munitions has proven fruitful. it turns out one of Demeter's quartermaster's, one Petty Officer Huey Emmerich has been supplying multiple insurgent groups by providing details on munitions deliveries and has been for the last eight months, doctoring the records to cover his actions, thanks to the Lions Chief Gunnery Officer we have found no less than four active groups in the neighbouring systems.

Our report will be heading up the chain for potential military action to be taken once we have secured more information from the prisoner.

Breaking into a smile, Liam gave a shrill whistle to catch the entire CIC's attention. "Gunny, congratulations you OCD bastard you're officially responsible for discovering that one of the Demeter's quartermasters has been supplying multiple insurgent groups, well done!"

The blonde Chief Gunnery Officer rubbed the back of his head in embarrassment as the CIC broke out into cheers and applause for the man, letting him bask in praise for a short while Liam caught everyone's attention once more.

"All right, settle down for christ sake, he's done a good job, now let him get back to it, we've got a scheduled launch on the 20th so get back to it you bunch of slackers." Liam barked, settling down the CIC crew once more.

October 14th, 2206 EMC [Earth Military Calendar] 2150 CE [Common Era].
Human Systems Alliance Space, Frontier Colonial Systems.
Ragnar-Alpha Sector, Ragnar Super Gas Giant.
SSV LION R-106, Executives Officer's Quarters.

[Play: Les Friction: Dark Matter – Your World Will Fail.]

Ka'mara stood stark naked in her private en suite shower, a privilege rarely given to Executive Officers aboard Turian Hierarchy vessels. usually, the Executive officers showered in the communal shower room, giving them an opportunity to listen in to the scuttlebutt of the crew.

Instead, Ka'mara was relying more on her crew's daily updates. She had been surprised to see little to no friction, aside from the few reports of engineers being sent to the Bosun's store to grab a long stand, with them being left stood at the store for up to an hour, only to return back to duty without a long stand.

Liam, had burst out laughing at the report, to which she taken immediate offence; until Liam had explained that it was an old tradition and that the 'long stand' wasn't a piece of equipment as it sounded, but a play on the English language telling them to request a long stand or a break.

Ka'mara gave a chuckle of her own once she understood the double entendre. Liam had quickly jotted down a cheat sheet of items that would be regularly requested, and the meaning behind some of them, sky hooks, glass hammers, left-handed spanners, buckets of welding sparks, elbow grease. The list was extensive.

Finishing up in the shower Ka'mara turned the supply of hot water and proceeded to dry herself off, stepping into her quarters proper Ka'mara took to donning her casual wear, before settling into finishing her personal report on the Invictus's crew's mental state. At least what she could gauge from informal conversations.

"CO to XO." Was announced over the internal comms, Ka'mara putting her paperwork to one side as she picked up her rooms wireless off of its base.

"XO here." She replied, speaking clearly into the mouth piece.

"Ka'mara, we've been invited to a bit of a get together on the Demeter, it's for CO's and XO's. it's a bi-weekly thing. it's on the 14th this week, unfortunately attendance is mandatory. Dress formally, but not your absolute best."

"I'll be ready for it Captain, where are we meeting?" Ka'mara replied.

"I'll swing by your room at 18:00 hours sharp Commander. I'm just hoping to God its at least someplace less sleazy than Gomorrah. God knows why Dylan insists whenever he's running the 'piss up' we go there." Liam muttered before closing the line.

Ka'mara, a little interested in this Gomorrah decided to use her personal terminal, opened up a tab on her personal browser and typing in the name in the search bar, opening the first link a website popped up. Gomorrah was a strip club and massage parlour, the reviews for the place were middling at best, but it had a "by invitation only policy", providing a level discretion few establishments provided.

Realising such an establishment could provide an outlet for most if not all of the surviving members of the Invictus crew, Ka'mara got to work on writing up a quick proposal on her terminal checking, then double checking the proposal she sent it to Captain Spruce directly.

Within an hour she received a reply.

To: CMDR. Ka'mara Nyx
From CAPT. Liam Spruce

I've received your proposal and agree with your assessment.
Organise a shift rotation, so all serving Invictus crew receive at minimum 8 hours shore leave aboard the Demeter.

Signed: CAPT. Liam Spruce.

October 16th, 2206 EMC [Earth Military Calendar] 2150 CE [Common Era].
Human Systems Alliance Space, Frontier Colonial Systems.
Ragnar-Alpha Sector, Ragnar Super Gas Giant.
Demeter Anchorage, Lower Decks.

[Play: The Weekend: After Hours – Blinding Lights.]

Ka'mara stood alongside Captain Spruce as they approached a group of well-dressed humans, they had no defining features marking them out as officers of the Systems Alliance even though her keen eyesight picked out several concealed firearms on the group before her.

"Liam! You miserable English bastard how are you doing?" The quote un-quote leader of the group yelled towards Liam.

"Dylan, still dressing like a peasant I see." Dylan muttered a quick fucker under his breath, the pair shaking one another's hands whilst slapping each other on the shoulder.

Liam turned from Dylan to face the man to his right. "Gogor, how's the bucket head treating you?" Causing cybernetically enhanced male of the group to flick his middle finger upwards, a hand gesture telling Liam to 'fuck off'.

"Not too bad boss-man, it gives me less of a headache than you set of wankers any day…. No offence to the ladies present, of course." Causing all of the women present in the group to nod accepting his swift correction.

"Kallen, how's the crushing weight of responsibility treating you?" Liam asked his former Executive Officer, with a shit eating grin plastered on his face, only to receive a ball's shrivelling reply of.

"Better now I don't have to deal with any more of your fuck ups and multiple counts of sexual harassment." Kallen snarked back at her former CO, causing the entire group to laugh at the good Captain's expense.

"How about you Mike, life on the carrier treating you well?" Liam asked the newest addition to the command staff of the battlegroup.

"'Bout as well as it can at the moment, why the old girl was reserved over being scrapped is beyond me, I have more engineers aboard her than actual crew." Liam gave a rough pat on the shoulder before pulling back from the crowd.

"Everyone, this is Ka'mara senior most officer of the HNV Invictus, acting as my XO and guide to the rest of known space, she's a bit of a stickler for procedure, then again so were you lot before I took charge of this gaggle of misfits." Liam paused for a second before finishing. "Ka'mara from left to right we have Captains Dylan, Gogor, Kallen and Mike, beside them is their exec's Juno Vale, Sofiya Pavlovna, Clayton Carmine and Diane Youdale." Liam finished.

Ka'mara stepped up to the group shaking everyone's hand as she examined each of the members of the 106th's senior staff, almost as if she was measuring their character from the brief amount of contact with each of them.

Almost trying to find where their place would be in the Hierarchy's meritocracy, mentally bookmarking and placing the information away for later use. "A pleasure." Ka'mara said in her usual flanging voice.

"I hope you Turian's have a high alcohol tolerance we're getting absolutely battered by the end of this crawl." Ka'mara's only reaction was to twitch her mandibles.

"Alright misfits, let's get a fucking shimmy on we've got a shit ton of booze to drink!" Liam bellowed leading the group into the first of many establishments.

Ka'mara, watched as the night progressed into ever increasing acts of drunken decadence it was highly amusing watching the command staff quote un-quote 'blow off some steam' the entire group had been pretty tame at first with the drinking games.

Eventually progressing all the way to a drinking game called Dead Man's Hand followed by strip poker.

Liam was down to his socks and boxer shorts, a shit eating grin plastered on his drunk face, Dylan was laid back happily still wearing his pants cards held firm in his hand as he leant back in his chair.

Gogor had his forehead planted on the table sitting solely in his skivvies earning a few cat calls from the establishments female waiting staff and a couple of the males as well, Kallen was donning her knickers and bra as she quietly supped a beer in her off hand, the red head smiling like the devil.

Finally, Mike who'd only lost his shirt throughout the entire match, looking like a smug asshole with his feet planted on the table with a cigar in his mouth the smoke wafting lazily into the air, Ka'mara hadn't missed out on the festivities, she had however only brought one bottle from her personal stash for the occasion.

"Ev'ry Fu'kin' tim', how tha fu'k tha' pr-ick do it?" Liam slurred as swung the finger of whisky in his glass towards Mikes position on the table only for the alcohol to splash on Kallen's D-cup breasts, causing her to pointedly look towards her former CO. "Shorry, shorry." Liam slurred holding is hands up defensively.

Kallen sighed shaking her head at the sheer state Liam was in, he could hold his liquor for sure but being an officer, whose augmentations were from two generations back rather than the new set standard, he was evidently pushing his liver augmentation to the point of breaking.

"Al'ight shtop it 'ere 'e's to-o dunk to ke-ep up 'e isss." Dylan joked pointing at Liam as the top half od his body swayed just enough to be noticeable, Liam replied with the good old British two finger salute to the Irishman.

As everyone assembled, they threw a massive tip of credits in the only non-used ashtray on the table before drunkenly making their way to the main entrance, everyone helped everyone as they stumbled and swayed through the halls.

All was quiet until Liam started bellowing a sea shanty at the top of his lungs.

"Tha Kin' an' 'is me-n stol' tha que-en f'om 'er be-d!" Liam paused for a second or two before continuing on. "An' Bou-nd 'er in 'er bon-es."

Dylan chimed in. "Tha sea b' o'rs and by tha Pow'rs."

Gogor, Kallen and Mike joined in as well at this point. "W'ere we w'll we'll ro-am!"

The whole group then sang together at this point. "Yo, 'o a-ll to'ether, Ho-ist tha col'rs 'igh!" Ka'mara watched as other drunk members of the nearby He've ho, Thi-eves and be'gars, n'ver sh-all 'e die!" It took a good hour or so just to reach the hanger bay where multiple Kodiak shuttles were waiting to take the shitfaced officers back to their ships, overall, the night had been a rather successful one.

October 16th 2206 EMC [Earth Military Calendar] 2150 CE [Common Era].
Human Systems Alliance Space, Frontier Colonial Systems.
Ragnar-Alpha Sector, Ragnar super gas-giant.
SSV LION R-106, Combat Information Centre [CIC].
12:00 Hours [1 Hour till Departure.]

[Play: The Rolling Stones: Out of Our Heads – Satisfaction.]

Standing beside the war table, Liam had his attention pulled upwards towards DRADIS when it had been pinged by a new arrival breaching Ragnar's cloud layer. "Identify Friend Foe confirmed it's the Battleship Ben Nevis sir…." Spoke a female senior sensor operator further back in CIC.

Lieutenant Smollet chipped in her two cents as well. "Sir I have Ben Nevis Actual on the line, as well as Demeter Actual." Nodding towards Smollet, Liam quickly ordered her to patch him though to them on his personal wireless, whilst simultaneously picking it up from its base.

Waiting for Smollet to confirm the connection Liam spoke into his wireless. "This is Lion Actual, Admiral Glasgow, Admiral Cutter to what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Laying it on a little thick aren't you, you bawbag bastard." Came the gruff Scottish burr through Liam's wireless's earpiece.

"I second that son, so cut the crap as both of us are going to be boarding in the next couple of minutes." Cutter jibed.

"I'm wounded ma'am, sir, really I am, to think that you think so little of me. I'll be awaiting your arrival at Umbilical Alpha." Liam responded, he pretty sure he could hear the pair of them sigh and something being muttered about 'fucking disrespectful bastards' or something to that effect.

Placing his wireless back down, he could see his crew chuckling away even though they could only hear half of the conversation. "Commander Ka'mara, the Conn is yours. Lieutenant Smollet have a troop of Marines readied at Umbilical Alpha to act as honour guard, we're having an official visit from the brass it seems. Put out an announcement informing all crew to tighten up their dress code, can't be having the crew making me look bad." Two aye sirs were all he needed to hear as Liam made for the nearest bulkhead door to make his way to the docking hatch where Umbilical Alpha was connected.

Luckily enough a personal-cart was making its way aft, so jumping on the small vehicle after a short journey he stepped off at the nearest possible place for his destination. Walking towards the Portside of the Lion Liam found the troop of Marines ready at parade rest, the Staff Sergeant in charge inspecting his men. "How are we looking Staff?" Liam asked.

"Ready to receive the brass, sir." The African American NCO replied. Watching through the open airlock he could see the ship's esteemed guests approaching. "Troop, Troop-Shun!" The Sergeant, now stood beside his men, barked.

The assembled marines snapped to attention crisply. Liam too stood to attention saluting his superiors, as they stepped through the airlock with their aides besides them, quickly returning his salute, before asking. "Permission to come aboard Captain?"

"Granted Sirs." Liam replied, taking notice of the two boxes being held by the Admiral's aides. "Gifts, ma'am, you shouldn't've." Glasgow actually groaned whilst Cutter openly smiled.

"No wonder I fucking got rid of you, besides, these gifts aren't yours." Glasgow jibed.

"They are for when you make contact with the Turian Hierarchy proper. Reading up on Turian traditions, our esteemed secretary of foreign affairs found out its custom to present a flag to open talks with the council of Primarch's; the other box is humanities' official first contact package." Cutter finished, as both aides presented the two boxes for him to take.

"Can I ask which flag was chosen?" Liam asked, with an eyebrow raised.

Cutter gave Glasgow an elbow to the ribs. "Go on tell him, it's priceless."

Glasgow began to glare at her fellow Admiral. "Apparently the more storied the flag the better, you get bonus points if it's from a military background. So, our esteemed Secretary of Foreign Affairs, for whatever fucking reason chose the Royal Navy's White Ensign to present."

Cutter's face at this point was almost splitting. "Okay…. Surely though it isn't a fresh one?" Liam could easily see that as some sort of insult in some other obscure Turian Tradition. "Oh, you can believe it isn't, it was taken from HMS Victory at HMNB Portsmouth." Cutter chimed.

Liam actually coughed at that little fact. "Fucking hell, I hope to God he got permission from the Royal's to acquire it, I wouldn't want to be him if they found he'd taken it without consent." A chorus of chuckles broke out between all of them.

"Welp, we've done our job Cutter, God speed Captain, don't go insulting someone's mother during talks with the militaristic species. I don't want to be cleaning up your mess." Glasgow finished, whilst Cutter placed his hand on Liam's shoulder.

"Remember kid, my wife will drag your ass from the afterlife to kill your ass again if you die on this mission. Behave yourself out there."

Liam smiled. "I'm me." he replied giving a somewhat bitter chuckle.

"That's what we're afraid of." Cutter snarked, as both they and their aides turned and began walking back up the umbilical.

Turning to the assembled marines. "Staff, you and yours are dismissed. Expect nothing but glowing words to be written in your files, men." Turning around from the airlock Liam began his trek back to his wardroom to store both of the gifts in his personal safe.

With little time to spare Liam made his way back to CIC.

October 16th 2206 EMC [Earth Military Calendar] 2150 CE [Common Era].

Human Systems Alliance Space, Frontier Colonial Systems.

Ragnar-Alpha Sector, Ragnar super gas-giant.

SSV LION R-106, Combat Information Centre [CIC].

12:58 Hours [2 minutes till Departure.]

[Play: Super Furry Animals: Phantom Power – Golden Retriever.]

Once again stood beside the Lions war-table Liam looked towards Ka'mara, resting both hands on the table he spoke up. "Commander, let's go around the horn." Giving a quick nod, Ka'mara picked up her own wireless to issue her first official orders as the Lion's XO.

"This is the XO, all stations prepare to report, Airlocks."

"Sealed airtight ready for transit, Umbilical's away."

"Command."

"Go."

"Engineering."

"Go!"

"FTL."

"Go."

"Main Batteries."

"Go."

"Secondary Batteries."

"Go."

"Tertiary Batteries."

"Go."

"Torpedo Room."

"Go."

"Tactical."

"Go."

"Damage Control."

"Go."

"Medical."

"Go."

"Viper Wing Alpha."

"Go."

"Viper Wing Bravo."

"Go."

"Gunship Wing."

"Go."

"Marine Battalion."

"Go."

With all stations reporting ready for transit, Ka'mara placed her wireless back onto its base. "All stations report ready sir, waiting for your order."

Looking up from Ka'mara to the DRADIS, Liam took a second to compose himself. "Connect me ship wide." He ordered to Lieutenant Smollet, whilst picking up his wireless, before speaking to the crew.

"This is the Captain, just so there is no confusion later down the line. The Lion has seen a lot of history. Make no mistake we will be alone with no support, with only each other to rely on."

Taking a breath for a moment, to look upon the CIC crew, he noticed, with some pride that each face held a determined stoicism. "She will not fail us, if we do not fail her. If we succeed in this mission, she will bring us home. If we don't succeed, it doesn't really matter anyway. Action Stations!"

Putting down the wireless, the general quarters klaxon wailed, alerting the crew to stand ready for in case of an emergency.

Liam turned towards the Lion's helmsman. "Helm, all ahead one third. Clear us of 'The Cradle', then make best possible speed to clear us from Ragnar's cloud layer. Navigation, update our charts and make preparations to plot a jump towards the Red-Line."

"Aye sir," was chorused by the pair of officers.

"From here on out people, we're on our own," Liam stoically announced.

The Lion's six primary thrusters lit up a brilliant blue, gradually easing the behemoth warship clear of it slip for the first time in a week.

The Cradle's engineers cheered as they watched one of the fleet's most storied vessels make her way on her next big mission.

In the Demeter's officer of the watch wardroom, Admiral Cutter began finishing up his report to high command. This would be followed by a speech given by the prime minister of the Systems Alliance, announcing to the entirety of humanity that they had made first contact.

"Good luck. You're going to need it." Cutter muttered to himself, whilst looking to the left side of his desk where a wax sealed bottle of port rested. Beside which sat a note which read, 'Don't drink it all at once'.

Cutter muttered a quick "Cheeky bastard." As he turned to watch the Lion plough through the blue-green swirling clouds that surrounded Demeter Anchorage, the battleship SSV Ben Nevis still present near the defence platform perimeter.

Back inside the Lion's CIC, DRADIS was blind. filled with nothing but static, DRADIS picked up billions of particulates mixed with the cloud, however, multiple buoys that transmitted on an extreme low frequency bandwidth led the way to clear the cloud layer that formed the outer shell of the super gas giant Ragnar.

Thirty seconds later, the alligator head breached through the cloud somewhat similar to what a submarine does when it breaches the surface of the seas and oceans of earth. "Sir, we've cleared Ragnar. Scopes and sensors are clear." The helmsman relayed succinctly.

"Very good, helm. All ahead full; it's time the old girl stretched her legs." Liam ordered.

"Aye sir, all ahead full." Came the quick reply.

Liam turned towards communications. "DJ Smollet, if you would be so kind as to begin the ship wide tradition." Smollet, smiling, pulled a small device from one of her breast pockets, deftly plugging it into a docking station on her terminal.

She manipulated the screen interface, and suddenly music began playing through the ship wide PA system.

[Play: Caesars: Indie Anthems - Jerk It Out]

Ka'mara, and the rest of the remaining crewman of the Invictus for that matter, were dumbstruck. As the crew began to bob their heads whilst carrying on with their assigned duties, while others actually began to sing along to the music being played.

Shaking their heads at the sheer sight of it, they watched the eccentric human crew continue for a good while as songs kept playing throughout the vessel, as the Lion continued towards the edge of the Ragnar-Alpha system, the volume being gradually lowered until it was eventually stopped.

"Sir, I have the FTL jump plotted." Announced the Lion's navigational officer.

"Excellent. FTL prepare to jump on my mark. 3… 2… 1… mark!" The entire crew experienced a severe case of vertigo as the Lion disappeared in a blinding white flash of light.

October 23rd 2206 EMC [Earth Military Calendar] 2150 CE [Common Era].

Beyond Human Systems Alliance Space, Past Red Line.

Caliban Sector, Un-mapped Asteroid Belt.

SSV LION R-106, Portside Primary Corridor.

[+7 Days Since Departure.]

[Play: Fatboy Slim: Why Try Harder – Weapon of Choice.]

After being stationed at Demeter since the Insurrection had surrendered, the crew had a lot of rust to shake off, not to say they had slacked off but their edge had been dulled by inactivity for the last couple of weeks.

So, for the last seven days Liam had the crew running drills, magazine fires, counter boarding actions, hull breaches. Never the same drill twice. It had done the trick and given the new crewmen a learning experience, we weren't one of the best crews in the active-reserves. We were the best crew in the active-reserves.

Currently, the Lion was stationed in an asteroid field orbiting a mid-sized star. All 160 viper VIII's were running through multiple squadron and wing level manoeuvres, anything from combat air patrols to mass missile barrage interception.

A good chunk of the crew, which were currently off duty, including Ka'mara, were watching the vipers from the forward observation deck, which was nestled underneath the primary sensor suite.

Liam had even caught a few of the Invictus's crew muttering that human pilots were insane, and that no known fighters in existence had the level of manoeuvrability to 180 degree flip or twist mid-combat to engage a tailing fighter or missile.

Smiling to himself knowing that the Alliance had at least one very distinct advantage that the navy could use if push ever came to shove.

Liam would be more than happy to inform High-Com to push for the production of pocket carriers for Alliance battlegroups, keeping the supercarriers free for major fleet deployments.

Stepping into the portside hanger, Liam quickly found himself in amongst the rabble surrounding one of the Lion's two deck chiefs. "Chief Roland, give me the good news. How are our birds and their 'nests' holding up?"

Roland, a fellow hailing from the homeland of Britain, rubbed his oily hands on his orange coveralls. "Well Sir, I've got to say the eggheads had almost outdone themselves with these new birds. The thrust to weight ratio is off the charts without sacrificing the durability that our old mark IV's were famous for."

"I sense a but coming." Liam responded.

Roland nodded. "They replaced the 30mm cannons with the new standard 40mm cannons, also the new swept wing design, while improving our bird's aerodynamics in atmo has unfortunately sacrificed two of our bird's missile hardpoints."

Liam rubbed his face at the thought. "Please tell me we've kept our old bird's 30mm guns in storage, I'd hate to have to spend a week sourcing the resources this early in our trip."

"You're in luck, instead of swapping out our birds, we took a cue from the yanks of World War Two." Following Roland's finger as it pointed skyward, Liam found forty fully built mark IV's slung from the alcoves.

"Smart, real smart, I take it Durandal has done the same in the starboard pod?" Liam asked Roland pointedly.

"You can bet your arse he has; we have eighty flight worthy mark IV's in reserve. We can do a swap for swap for a squadron, or we could strip the guns and swap them between eighty birds, preferably those birds would be piloted by the old gangers." Roland replied.

Liam nodded in thought. "Post a memo in all of the pilot ready rooms, first come first serve for the old gangers only."

Roland nodded in reply, whilst they made their way towards the pelican bays. "How are our workhorses looking Chief, any grief?" Liam asked.

"From these old girls, not a chance. Besides their electronic warfare suites have had an upgrade, as have their original stealth coatings and thrusters which have had their efficiency improved on top of all that." Roland informed him.

"Impressive." Liam replied.

Only for Roland to chip in again. "I know, right? Who knew these old girls had a little more in them. I figured Misriah Armouries stopped producing upgrade packages for these years ago."

Liam crossed arms for a moment while he thought about the situation. "Pound to a penny says that the Admiralty contacted Misriah Armouries directly and threw a few million credits to upgrade some of the fleet in reserve."

Roland smirked a little. "Another case of money talking." Snarkily replying.

A brief moment of silence stood between the pair, until Liam piped up again. "One thing is pissing me off though Chief."

Roland looked towards the good captain with an incredulous look on his face. "What's that, Sir?" He asked.

"Paint 'em black will you."

Roland laughed hard. "Consider it done, Sir."

To Be Continued….

AN: Whoever manages to count the semicolons in this Chapter will be allocated one cyber cookie, Whoever manages to get all of the refences and prove it to me, you will receive one extra ration for the month.

Doge coin is the currency of the future. (Do not take this as financial advice. As I do not work in a fiduciary capacity.)

Vote Lord Buckethead, our new supreme ruler of the United Kingdom.