A plethora of celestial bodies floated by, some as vanishing as quickly as the appeared, the darkness of space dotted with distant stars, planets, systems, even galaxies, painting a tapestry beyond what many could ever conceive.
As for the Shadow Strikers aboard The Ghost of Irk…it was yet another fruitless day of searching the stars for a single Irken. 3 full days of searching, and nothing to show for it yet. He could almost see his Tallest becoming upset with his lack of progress.
It pained him that they were being pulled away from aiding the war effort, especially with Vort the next target, and quite possibly the most hotly contested world of the campaign.
"Pulse is coming back negative…again, Commander," Rem announced from her captain's chair on the bridge of the vessel, the chair hovering from position to position as she expertly choreographed the control of such a fine vessel all by herself.
"Send another one," he calmly replied, checking their plotted course thus far, and with time dilation, the expanse of where this Janitorial Drone by the name of Tak could be located forever grew exponentially. In layman's terms…the longer it took to locate her, the less of a chance they were going to find her. So far, nothing had turned up, and with light years from Dirt already behind them, things weren't look too good for them. "Keep them going at regular intervals. The Armada has no vessels or anything this far out in this quadrant, so if something shows up, it has to be her ship or PAK signal.."
"Yes, Sir, understood," Rem nodded, quickly keying his command into the scanning equipment. "I've also got it set on a very sensitive level, anything that shows up is going to light it up like crazy," the pilot added, patting the radar display.
"Just keep an eye on it and let me know if anything develops, alright?"
"Yes, Sir," she saluted from her chair, turning back around to look out the bulbous, circular viewport once more.
At the rear of the spacious bridge was the ship's main gravity lift, a repulsor that shuttled those aboard between the bridge and the various levels throughout the ship. Possessing several, it was large, but nothing on the grand scale that was within the Armada. With the push of a button, the lift smoothly descended into the bowels of the ship, his destination was the hangar. Serving as a moving base of operations, containing everything they would need to be self-sufficient and rely on no one else was contained within the hull, making secrecy a top priority and possibility still.
The lift came to a gentle stop at the bottom, the doors parting to reveal the hangar. It was the only area of the ship that rivaled the size of their training grounds, but it was necessary. The dropship sat neatly in the center of the open space, while a pair of yet-to-be-used Megadoomer stealth assault mechs stood side-by-side against the bulkhead. As intimidating and cutting-edge technology they were, Vult really didn't see a real use for them in their operations. Cloaking or otherwise, they were still loud and easily tracked by the large footprints they made. He had to admit that the custom matte black finish looked rather well on them though.
Vard and Aero seemed to share the area for the most part with her performing routine maintenance and using the necessary space as a workshop for the ship to keep it up and running. At the moment, she appeared to be making adjustments to the dropship, laying beneath it with a collection of tools, covered in dirt, grease, and grim. Vard had a corner portioned off from the rest of the hangar with hull plating as the walls for more sensitive technological work and repairs, but still had ample access to the necessary tools. The communications technician seemed to be soldering electronic components together that belonged in his spy drone, the shell sitting on the bench. The Irken Commander approached the dropship, as close as he could get to Aero, and then gently rapped on the hollow, metal shell to get her attention.
"What is it? I'm kinda busy," she gruffly responded, a metal component clanging against the hangar floor, "Bastrata k'ved," Aero added, cursing whatever happened in her attempt.
"I know you are, Aero, I only need a moment of your time." Vult calmly uttered, the instant words were spoken, she was scrambling from beneath the dropship to attention.
"Sorry, Commander, I didn't realize it was you, do forgive me," she apologized with a salute, adding another splotch of grease on her face from her midnight-black hands. Her fatigues were equally fouled with fluids and dirt from the dropship, sleeves rolled up, and not a spot of green skin was visible from what was exposed.
"Think nothing of it, Aero," he assured in a relaxed tone, "just making my rounds, seeing what all of you are up to."
"Well, as you can see, Sir," she pointed to the dropship as she attempted to clean the grease of her hands on a rag, "I'm trying to keep this thing in tip-top shape, no need for mechanical failures in the field if avoidable…it is my job after all."
"Good to see you know your priorities. All of your gear is squared away, right?"
"Of course, Sir, first and last thing that I do every day, part of the routine."
"As soon as we find this drone, I want you suited up and ready to go planetside with me, understand?"
The filth about her person or dealing with her job didn't seem to bother her all too much, quickly snapping another salute of obedience.
"Yes, Sir!"
"Carry on, Sergeant," Vult motioned, watching her climb back on the rolling rack on the floor, sliding back under the dropship once more out of view.
The Irken Commander's next destination aboard the Ghost of Irk brought him to their training grounds, hallway adjacent between it and the hangar. Corr was tasked with running those not on maintenance duty, such as Aero and Vard, to keep the others' skills sharp with rigorous training.
The rest of the unit seemed to be practicing suppression techniques for the event their stealth is compromised and need to fight it out. Corr must have felt that Praxxus 7 may have been a success, but it called for improvement. Perfection never came easily, after all.
"Captain, a moment of your time," Vult called out, watching the training scenario unfold before them from the elevated observation module that controlled the training grounds.
"Commander, Sir," Corr greeted with a crisp salute as usual. "Have we located the Janitorial Drone yet?"
"Not yet, you'll know when we do, I assure you that much," Vult made clear, "speaking of which, that is why I came down to discuss the matter with you."
"Sir?"
"I know I ordered you to run training drills and whatnot today for them, but I need at least a couple of my soldiers ready to go at a moment's notice. Our window of opportunity is already shrinking as it is, and anymore wasted time will further reduce it."
"Of course, Commander, I understand," Captain Corr obliged, "who do you have in mind?"
"…Haxx and Tuu," Vult thought for a moment. "It will give me a chance to see how well the others intermingle and mesh in the field without everyone deployed. I also want to see for myself how well those two act under my command. I'm sure I can leave the ship and the unit in your capable hands when the call comes, correct, Captain?"
"Yes, Sir, I will not fail you," Corr made abundantly clear. The last thing he ever wished to do was fail, let along fail Commander Vult.
"For you, that's nearly impossible," he responded, patting the Captain on the shoulder. "As soon as they finish up here, I want them on call and ready to go when we pick up the drone's signal."
"Yes, Commander, as you wish."
It was going to be much sooner than any of them imagined.
"Bridge to the Commander." Vult's commlink activated, Rem's voice sounding through it.
"Vult here, what do you have for me, Rem?"
"…it's got to be the drone, Sir, nothing else is out here. I got a wash on the radar, too large for a single Irken, so I'm thinking she's having engine trouble, possibly a reactor leak. I've already plugged the coordinates and set course."
"Do you have a PAK signal though?" Vult expressed, not wishing to pursue a lead that could turn up nothing, adding to their frustrations.
"Negative, Commander, but this quadrant of space where the wash emanated from hasn't been charted by the Armada, so nothing, especially a reading of a reactor leak from a Voot Cruiser engine. Dirt is on the edge of Empire-controlled space. I'm almost positive it is the target, Sir. The distance, coincidence, it all falls in place. I suggest that we pursue our only lead on probably cause, Sir, but what are your orders?"
The Shadow Striker leader thought for a moment, it was a long shot, but Rem did have a point. It was the logical thing to do, returning empty handed to the Almighty Tallest was not an option.
"Keep us on course, get us there ASAP," Vult finally responded, turning back to Corr from his conversation with Rem over the commlink, "get those two suited up right now…we found the drone."
Drilled and perfect practitioners of their profession, it didn't take long before Haxx, Tuu, and Aero were in their battle dress, ready to go recover the Janitorial Drone. She had luckily finished whatever repairs and maintenance on the dropship in time. Aero sat in the dropship's cockpit, beginning to start the flight procedures up while the others strapped in for the descent to the planet's surface. Vult closed the hatch as the SIR unit stepped aboard, following its master obediently.
"Quick question, Sir," Aero beckoned, powering the ship's engines up. It was a great thing that most of them had cross-trained in the others' proficiencies, so Aero know the controls and functions of the ship inside and out, thanks to Rem's help, of course.
"Proceed," Vult replied, buckling into his harness, checking his plasma rifle to ensure it was in proper working order and fully loaded.
"Why are we only going in with the 4 of us, well, 5 including Mrs. Quakers?" Her free-floating nature of a voice questioned, using the unorthodox name that she used when referring to the SIR unit.
"We're dealing with a Janitorial Drone, Aero, not a battle-hardened soldier or any other kind of threat. This should be quick pick up of an individual who is unhappy with their assignment, and return them back to where they belong without incident. It is also a good idea to leave a few aboard the Ghost of Irk, this is uncharted territory after all. It would be quite a take for pirates, scavengers, you name it."
"Well, what about this Janitorial Drone? Why don't the Tallest simply have her remotely deactivated for going rogue to begin with?" Haxx gestured as the ship pulled free of the hangar into the dark reaches of space. "Saves us a lot of hassle, send a replacement that is obedient…all that kind of stuff."
"You're more than welcome to debate the matter and the bureaucracy of it with the Tallest…even though it makes sense to do so, but who are we to question order?" Vult finished with sarcasm. "Just do things by the book, this isn't anything we haven't prepared for. We go in, restrain and subdue, it's that simple."
"Yes, Sir, understood," Haxx nodded, watching out the slim viewport that ran around the ship, the blackness of space giving way to blinding white whipped around the ship violently, severely reducing visibility. "Am I the only one that's noticing these conditions?"
"It's a planet made of ice, Haxx," Aero spoke with a lack of amusement at his lame attempts to be funny, "radar and meteorology reports configuring…and we have a blizzard on our hands, complete with low visibility, high winds, heavy snowfall, bone-chilling temperatures, and the low-levels of light…sounds like paradise."
"Just put us down and try not to lose the ship in this, Aero," Vult responded at her placated humor. He activated his visor and protective mask, knowing they were already going to have a fight as soon as hatch opened…the environment.
Meanwhile, a half-buried monstrosity of a ship lay in the snow, a makeshift shelter built around the rear of the small, sleek craft. Within it, a female Irken matching the very description that Vult had in his possession was frustrated beyond no other as she made critical repairs.
"…of all the blasted planets I had to land on," she growled under her breath, squinting beneath pair of welding goggles as she began touching up seams, "it matters not, I'll be on my way to find the one responsible for my unjust assignment to Dirt…I'll find Zim"
The seam she was welding blew open once more, showering her in sparks and fouling her emerald skin with dark soot from the reaction with the ship's hull coating.
"I'kved livda!", Tak cursed, pounding the hull of the ship with her first violently out of rage. "I'll never get off this rock at this rate, not with this weather or these unnecessary mechanical failures!"
She simply lifted her goggles, pinching the bridge between her eyes in exasperation, sighing.
"I just need to calm down…focus, Tak, you built this ship and the SIR unit all by yourself, you know how to fix them, you are a master of Irken technology," she thought, pulling back the plate she had just welded in hope of finally sealing up the reactor that was continuing to plague her. "It's not like the Armada is going to waste the manpower to send anyone after me, a lowly…Janitorial…Drone," she finished, growling as she grinded her teeth at the thought, "all because of that little ball of….stupidity! I should have been an Invader! NOT him! He ruined everythi-"
An image projected from her PAK before her on the side of the ship, complete with a very minute alarm. It was a radar signature emanating all around her ship, standard operational procedures for an Invader to follow in enemy territory.
Certified or not, no matter what assignment the Armada gave her, she would always be an Invader, anything less was an insult.
"Warning, proximity movement detected." A trio of dots on her established outer perimeter, far too large than anything natural on this planet. Tak's curling antenna perked up at attention.
"Threat assessment," she ordered of the device, still surprised that the Armada would attempt to capture her.
"Processing…processing complete…Threat level…lethal."
"So they've decided to deal with me in the field without bothering with an assessment…no matter, Invader Tak will not be so easily defeated!" She concluded, despite the cold, becoming rather animated. The cruelly assigned Janitorial Drone turned to her creation of a SIR that was watching for anything out of the ordinary. It appeared very similar in appearance to what the Armada handed out to soldiers and assigned Invaders, aside from a large grappler of a right arm. "MiMi! We're going to have visitors…prepare for destruction."
The SIR unit simply saluted with its oversized right arm.
"Keep sharp," Vult calmly stated over the commlink to the members of the ground team. "Tuu's going to keep overwatch from a distance while the rest of us move in and subdue this Drone. Nice and simple mission…let's keep it that way."
Their silence seemed to be the affirmative to his orders as the trio of soldiers watched Tuu break off from the rest of the unit, disappearing into the abyss of white that the torrential snowfall produced. Babysitting smeets in these conditions would have been dangerous, let alone trying to retrieve a rogue Irken. Luckily enough, their uniforms were designed with the extremes of field conditions in mind, able to withstand such chilling temperatures. Vult would have rather not tested it out in such a way, but it was better than going to a planet like Sirius Minor that was about as hot of the surface of its sun it orbited.
Their visors provided some comfort as they were able to look through various spectrums and still have visibility, his current setting detecting severe differences in temperature, his soldiers seeming to glow red against the dark blue all around them. Even then, the blizzard conditions were physically limiting as the trudged through drifts that came up their waists, but appeared to be consistently knee-deep.
"Once again, I still fail to see the importance of pulling us away from the Vort system to track down a Janitorial Drone," Haxx spoke out, "…orders are orders, I suppose."
"Would you stop complaining already, Haxx?" Aero responded, catching him off guard. "I'd rather be playing hide-and-go-seek with some Drone than avoid having my head blown off in a full-scale warzone. We don't exactly get vacations after all, so I think this is the closest that we'll get…be quiet."
"…duly noted," Haxx responded dryly, grumbling to himself. Sad truth of it she was right, this was the closest thing they were going to get to relaxation from the front. He shifted the weight of the plasma rifle in his hands, seeing how it would have been unnecessary and downright overkill to bring his usual armament.
"Knock it off, we're coming up on the source of the signal," Vult ordered, getting the instant effect he wished for…silence.
The outline of Tak's ship came into view on the small crest of a hill, a makeshift tent encompassing the rear where the engine was located. With silent hand signals, Vult motioned for Aero to flank right, Haxx left, and the SIR unit remained close to him, ready to give support if necessary. Weapons raised, the closed in as discreetly as possible, their cloaking active. The full invisibility effect wasn't as prominent in the conditions because snow accumulated on their uniforms and gear. Still, the harder it was to see them, the better off they were going to be.
Encompassing the custom craft apparently built by the hands of the Drone, the three Shadow Strikers inspected in closely, mainly Aero.
"No sign of the Drone, Commander," she spoke, running her hand across the ship's dark hull. "but this is a rather nice piece of craftsmanship. I can look at it and see several different types of ship were used to build this thing."
She ducked her head into the tent, shielded from the wind shear. The assortment of tools on the ground and area that seemed to be worked on spoke for her.
"Just as Rem thought," she added, coming back out to Vult and Haxx, whom watched for anything out of the ordinary. "looks like a nasty reactor leak. She lost power, had to make an emergency landing, and she's trying to get it going again."
"Where the Irk is she then?" Haxx commented, looking around. "Last thing I'd do would abandon my ship in these conditions…something isn't right here, I can feel it in my spooch."
"Stop being so paranoid," the tallest of the group spoke unamused, hefting her rifle over her shoulder nonchalantly, "…she's a Drone, even if she got wise to us coming…what can she do? First complaining about the weather and now you're scared of a Janitorial Drone? You sure you're the same guy that the Commander recruited? You're starting to look like a smeet that was hatched yesterday."
"Don't start on me, Ae-"
Vult quickly snapped his hand across his throat, signaling for silence, bringing his rifle to bear. Unsure, they brought their own weapons to their shoulders, ready for anything. He remained rigid, concentrating on the surroundings, all that was heard was the subdued whipping of wind and snow over the barren terrain. Even with the temperature filter on his visor, he couldn't distinguish the terrain around him, but much like Haxx only moments prior…something didn't feel right.
"Maybe we should….spread out and start looking for clues to the Drone's whereabouts, Sir," the outspoken male Irken suggested, attempting to hide the tinge of fear in his voice that was growing.
Without a word, Vult nodded, motioning for them to do so.
Aero approached the cockpit of the small craft, looking through the tinted, rounded dome that served as the viewport, finding something peculiar. Curious, she found the release latch on the exterior of the craft, opening it enough to reach inside.
"What do we have here?" She commented, pulling free what looked very similar to a SIR unit, a little asymmetrical in design with a large grappler as a hand, but not all that different from the standard issue to the Armada. "Why would a Janitorial Drone have a SIR unit, especially one like this?" Aero turned to Vult, whom was investigating around the perimeter. "Sir, I think I found something!"
Commander Vult looked up, Aero focused on getting his attention, while the SIR unit's eyes came to life with a blood-red glow.
"Now, MiMi! ATTACK!!!" A shrill voice ordered from near Haxx, startling him into frantically turning about to find the source.
"Aero, drop it!" Vult exclaimed in warning as the events simultaneously transpired, but it was too late, the robot had already drawn back its large grappler of a hand in a fist, slamming it with considerable force into Aero's head. The impact shattered the visor and crumbled the mask greatly as she was forced backwards, crashing into the side of the ship, and crumbling to a heap. The SIR unit fell from her hand after striking her, its sights now set on Vult.
Just as he was about to line up his sights and put a plasma bolt through the SIR unit's head, a plume of snow rocketed from the ground only a few feet from Haxx, a female Irken propelled by her PAK legs, the kind only assigned to Invaders for better mobility on hostile worlds. Her violet eyes were ablaze with rage as she lunged with continued momentum at Haxx, catching him off guard.
Tak knocked him to the ground, drawing two of the 4 razor-sharp metallic points on the legs back, preparing to drive it through the soldier's body. Breaking off from taking the SIR unit out, Vult took careful aim at Tak, pulling the trigger.
The plasma bolt ripped through one of her PAK legs, sending her careening off to the side, being throw off-balance, and saving a member of his unit from being perforated.
The Drone's SIR unit, apparently by the name of MiMi, drew back as it leapt through the air, preparing to strike against Vult. Seeing the damage it wrought with a single blow against Aero, he wasn't about to test its full might. The fist came within mere inches of connecting, making a deep impact crater in the frozen soil beneath the snow as he rolled to the side in avoidance. It charged once more as it was programmed, only it was caught off guard by something else…Vult's SIR unit, or as Aero and everyone seemed to know it as…Mrs. Quackers, Mrs. Q for short.
He took the moment of relief to check the status of his soldiers.
"Aero, Haxx, report. You still with me?"
"Here, Sir, " Haxx's voice shakily responded, already back on his feet and prepared for Tak, "don't worry, she just got the jump on me, that's all."
"Aero?"
Static.
"Aero, respond."
"Huah? Whooo's that talking inside my heeead?" She slurred, more dazed than anything. It was sudden, but she finally came to after shaking her head a few times, "Ahhh, my face, that little bastrata tin canhit me!" Aero cringed, trying to get to her feet, pulling the remnants of her mask free from the helmet. It done its job and prevented her face from being caved in, but was now worthless and left her visage open to the extreme weather.
"Good, keep it that way," Vult commented, his way of being relieved that nothing bad had happened…yet. "You are clear to engage her. Incapacitate her any way you can, but do not kill her."
Haxx didn't need to be told twice as he watched the murderous Drone charge him once more at blinding speed. Quickly firing, a single round managed to strike her in the upper arm, charring her clothing and leaving a cauterized plasma burn in its wake. Despite the lack of blood from energy-based weaponry, the after effect was cripplingly painful.
Halted in her tracks for a mere moment, Haxx remained ever-vigilant as she adjusted herself, steadying her balance as she studied the fresh wound. Slowly turning, Tak's eyes seemed to be more alive than ever as she released a blood-curdling, shrill battle cry, as she charged.
The only time Haxx ever saw that look before was on the battlefield, etched into the faces of soldiers, certainly not mere Drones. He knew that his instincts weren't misplaced then.
With blinding speed, she knocked the rifle free of his hands after he missed twice in her charge with her PAK leg. Attempting to draw his sidearm out of reaction as opposed to using his melee energy blades as instructed, it cost him as she forced him to the ground, pinning his arms in the process with cold, metallic shafts piercing his forearms. If not for the forearm guards the Irken Elite wore, they would have easily pushed all the way through.
Haxx had to admit…she was tough for a Janitorial Drone. Then again…that notion went out the window as soon as she tried to put a 2-inch diameter hole through him with a sharpened metallic spike.
She really didn't want to go back to planet Dirt.
"Irken Elite, Spec Ops, it doesn't matter…" Tak thought as she looked into the blank expression of a visor and combat mask before her current victim on the ground, preparing strike once more, hopefully on target this time. "…you're going to die the same. I've come too far to be denied freedom. Invader Tak will be stopped by no one, most certainly not by the likes of you."
A dark magenta blade of energy sliced cleanly through the left leg that held Haxx to the ground, the one responsible was Vult, his melee weapon activated in one hand, the rifle in the other. Out of sheer rage at his meddling, Tak cut through the air with the other extremity, narrowly missing Vult's head, and slicing the weapon in half, making it useless. Heaving for breath after feeling like it had been an eternity since she last took one, reality came crashing down as all that had just transpired taken mere moments.
A chase across the universe, leading planetside to a frozen wasteland, to capture and return a rogue Janitorial Drone back to her assignment, a mission they all thought was better suited for someone else was starting to lean more and more towards severe miscommunication.
Mistakes in the field or in intel costed lives…even if it was by someone else's hand.