Faith and Duty

[Lord General Armstrong]

A compilation one of my friends and myself have done, I am not sure how much or how long it will go for as it is often random mussings and all in good fun. But I am quite sure, you have not come here to listen to me. So enjoy!

* * * * *

Chapter 1: Absolution

... Adore the Immortal Emperor, For He is our Protector, Admire the Immortal Emperor, For His Sacrifice to Mankind, Exalt the Immortal Emperor, For His Strict Guidance, Revere the Immortal Emperor, For His Undying Guard, Venerate the Immortal Emperor, For His Holy Wisdom, Honor the Immortal Emperor, For His Eternal Strength, Glorify the Immortal Emperor, For His All-seeing Vision, Praise the Immortal Emperor, For His Unending Rule, Hail the Immortal Emperor, For He is the Lord and Master, Worship the Immortal Emperor ... For without Him we are Nothing

* * * * *

"W-where ... am I?" The slow, nervous voice permeating across the dimly lit room, the man blinking his eyes attempting to adjust to the dark and ... damp quarters. His gaze arched slowly up as he watched the condensation drip from a busted roof mounted filter, the dripping of water hitting the metal compartments floor gave him some resonance of where he was.

"H-hello?" He questioned again, his voice merely rebounding off the walls and striking against him from multiple directions. His heart began to race when he tried to stand, his actions were groggily, uncoordinated. Was he drugged? Pressing his hands down upon the arm rest, he rose to a stand, taking a weak step before losing his footing and meeting the cold, water stained deck floor.

"Gah..." He muttered to himself, his body felt bruised, tender. Was he beaten as well? Closing his eyes, holding them shut for a good few seconds as he prayed to the Emperor and silently worded a litany of protection. Blinking them slowly as they were again reopened, the gunmetal grey and golden englazed walls were unmistakable, the wall mounted ventilation grates serving to agree with his assessment, he was still on the ship ... should he have been thankful for that at least?

Placing a hand in front of him, he dragged himself forward, an almost inaudible cough or clearing of the throat he was unsure, catching his attention. "H-hello ... what am I ... doing here?" He had to question, tilting his head towards the noise. That area of the room for some reason his eyes had yet adjusted to, giving him a feeling of uncertainty. Was he merely hearing things or was someone else with him?

Both of his hands now in front of him, he began to press down upon the floor, picking himself up despite his own bodies protest. Taking a weak step forward, then another and another after that, merely to test and boost his confidence. Giving the room another look over, four things catching his eye. The chair he awoke upon, leather straps, probably made from the hide of an animal he had never even heard of, sitting idly on the arm rests and chair legs, worn but unused. A bench adjoining the wall, all of his equipment neatly discarded and organized, his flakvest, his laspistol, his shoulder lamp ... everything he had before ... whatever this was.

Grabbing for his equipment, he threw his flakvest over his shoulder, his fingers masterfully doing up the armors straps. His hands then reached for his other equipment, his combat knife going into it's leg sheath, his Pistol into his holster and his Lamp into it's shoulder mounting. The rest merely thrown into pockets or emplaced elsewhere upon his webbing.

His jaw dropped and his eyes widened as he saw the table covered in an all manner of tools. Devices of interrogation and for the simple purpose of instilling pain in ones subject. The mere thought sending shivers down his spine, though through curiosity or an attempt to calm his own fear he stepped forward, picking up one of the tools and turning it upon his hand. Wondering of what possible use, this little thing was used for ... the expulsion of answers of course, but what was the devices actual use on said victim?

He couldn't think of it any longer, his hand began to shake as he placed it back in it's original position, careful not to disturb the other devices ... less someone find out he was 'playing' with their toys. Turning on the spot, his eyes fell back to the corner ... that corner, his eyes had still yet adjusted to. Giving the man a sense of feeling, that he was being watched ... toyed with.

There! ... he was sure he saw a glint, a silhouette, the white of ones eyes and teeth as if it was smiling at him. The small act sending goosebumps throughout him as he stumbled back, resisting the urge to fall from the rapid imbalance. His back hit the wall, his logical mind telling him not to fear, but the rest of him thought of the feat as if he was being grabbed. He turned, his right hand instinctively reaching for his laspistol, his left darting forward as if trying to push someone away.

Then he saw it, almost like a gift from the Emperor himself ... the switch, of color of gleaming marble. His left hand reaching and flicking the toggle ... the rooms lumbglobes blinking twice before fully illuminating, the light quickly putting him at ease. Again his ears pricked up, the sound of an inaudible cough or laughter behind him. His fingers now tensing over his laspistols grip, as he turned, his back arching violently into the wall abaft of him. "Sister!"

[Lord General Armstrong]

The prominent symbols of the Adepta Sororitas covered her armor pieces, her shoulder pads, her gauntlets, her leggings and her breastplate. Even her face was blessed with such a symbol tattooed upon her cheek. He stood staring, taking in this most divine women before him, his own expressions filled with confusion and fear. "S-Sister, the Emperor is Father! The Emperor is Protector! The Emperor is Loving! The Emperor is Kind! The Emperor is Forgiving! I have done nothing!"

The man obviously, now clad in flak armor and simple light blue fatigues simply exclaimed as he tried to step back, merely forgetting he was already against the wall. He had no power, no rank, the man was a mere guardsmen ... cannon fodder in loose terms. He did not want it to end like this, he would run ... he would hide ... he would fight back for as long as he could.

"The Emperor is Father," She replied in a calm and even tone, taking a step forward. "The Emperor is Protector. The Emperor is Loving ..." Each statement brought her forward at an almost leisurely pace as the Guardsman retreated. "The Emperor is Forgiving ... but I am not."

His hand reaching over to the wall flicking the switch and deactivating the rooms lumbglobes sending it once again into darkness. Himself turning and running down the hall, not wanting to activate his shoulder lamp less the lighting give him away. Where was he? He never recognized this part of the ship before, he had heard stories from the Navy personal that many ships have abandoned areas. These things the size of cities it wasn't uncommon for entire sections to fall into absence.

Though she noted his furtive actions, the armored woman made no attempt to stop him, simply turning to gaze into the darkness in the direction she heard motion. The mirth in her eyes and the faint curve of her lips was unmistakable ... should one be able to see it.

Slowing to a stop at the end of the hall, his head glanced to either side. He was lost in the corridors of this arcane and endless vessel, which way to his squad ... surely they would help him. What had he even done? Was this standard routine, whence one has a Sisters of Battle convent attached to an Armygroup. He had to think, that these women were worse than the Commissariat. Muttering a single "Frak." Under his breath, he turned to his left and began to run again, the halls usually quiet. Quickly finding himself unholstering his Laspistol, she wouldn't get him at least that what he assured himself.

It was an interesting sort of hunt, stalking the errant male as he ran down the seemingly identical corridors. It seemed almost comical to her, his frantic pace matched by her calm stride as she made her way along the blank halls in the man's wake. It wasn't terribly difficult to track him, his steps rang out in a clarion call.

How long had he ran for? It seemed that he had made little headway at all. Glancing over his shoulder, trying to get a bead on his purser. The man, fearful of his life ... his only companion the walls of grey and gold. His almost delirious running did not stop and during his backward glances, he did not see the approaching intersection. His frame slamming against the wall, his armor kit absorbing most of the impact but still leaving him drifting to a seated position against it. Raising his sidearm weakly down the hall, his back pressed against the wall ... his only word, his voice groggy, saddened and utterly distressed was a simple. "Why?"

[Lord General Armstrong]

The sound of the impact was unmistakable, her smile growing faintly in response. Pressing close against the wall at the last corridor intersection, she cants her head slightly to pitch her voice in an echo, disguising its exact source. "Why?" She repeated, a slight lilt of her tone marking the amusement in her question. "Would you question me so casually ...?"

He attentively looked around, "I swear upon him and the mighty Imperator! I am innocent! Don't ... don't make me shoot you!" He protested, though the threat was utterly see through ... as he knew even if he did dispatch her his life would merely be ended by countless others, holding and moving his aim across the intersection he sat in waiting. "Why must you play these games!"

"There's that word again," Her voice echoed to his ears. "Why?" She repeated, a teasing quality to her tone as she made her way down the hall slowly, shifting left to right in a serpentine pattern with each step. No longer speaking as she approached, her voice lifted in an almost sweet melody, the words lost an only the tune to the song sung.

"No! No! I will not fall for such tricks! I have heard the stories of the Ordo and the Sister Hospitallers!" He screamed at her, his other hand activating his shoulder lamp, the light flickering for a brief second before illuminating the compartment ahead of him. "I will not fall for your games, I don't want it to end like this!" He continued, he barked like an animal trapped with no where else to go. His fingers tensing over the trigger.

Taking a calculated risk, she stood outside the area of illumination. Her body pressed flush against the right hand side of the wall, she fished a small bauble from her possessions and idly tossed it to the far left, letting the small item clatter near the edge of his illuminated sphere to see what the man would do.

His aim shifted as he heard the noise, all rational thought gone. "I am and always have been a faithful servant, show yourself!" His finger snapping at the trigger, a lasbolt cutting into the wall and sending hot pieces of metal to the floor. The laslight providing it's own illumination, "That ... that was a warning! I don't want to do this!"

Softly clicking her tongue, she shook her head as she looked towards the little island of light in the darkness. "Is this so?" She queried in a near whisper, her voice only just barely reaching the terrified guard. "You are threatening to open fire upon a Canoness ... that does cause one to question your sanity, if nothing else ..."

Raising his hands to his head, pressing against his helmet in an attempt to muffle her whispers. Each word cutting into him, only serving to increase his reluctance. "Just ... just do it."

[Lord General Armstrong]

"Do what?" came the carefully pitched reply, she moved slowly towards the man sitting within the pool of illumination, her steps light with her slow pace. "What, exactly, are you so frightened of? Tell me." Despite the soft tones, the last two words were very clearly a command.

"What ... what you always do ... purge ... cleanse ... I have done nothing! Why ... must one perform such a charge?" He questioned letting the handgun fall upon the deck, a soft ringing as the two objects met.

Stepping closer still, she extended one leg to place her booted toe over the discarded weapon, sliding it away from the despairing man before leaning down to retrieve it. Holding the pistol up, she examined it with a critical eye before dropping down onto one knee and almost lovingly caressing the side of the man's face with the barrel of the gun as she asked, "Is that what you think of my sisters? Myself? Is that all we are..mere monsters in the darkness who only emerge to set the world afire?"

"I ... I don't know ... the Sisters of the Ordos Hospitaller aid the poor and heal the sick and the wounded in the many hospitals and clinics across the Imperium ... you pursue the ways of war to spread the Emperor's light ... I can respect that ... but then you kill the innocents ... for what ... you prefer a thousand innocents to die on the grounds that one traitor maybe slain." He spoke weakly, closing his eyes, his body locking up, his spine shivered, this was it. The cold barrel, his own weapons barrel and in the unforgotten's of his own transporting warship.

The mans fear was an almost palpable thing, his innocence clear for any to see. Still, it was interesting to hear all of the hearsay and stereotypes placed upon her following through their own zealous nature. "Look at me." She commanded in that same soft voice, her tone adamant.

Tilting his head up and opening his eyes, he stared at the Canoness. His eyes watery, what was she waiting for? What was this, another sick joke? He had stories of Sister's, smiles across their faces and this very tone as they performed such executions. That was truly frightening as was the Regiments Commissars, he would have almost preferred them.

"Perhaps," she murmured in a nearly conversational tone. The fingers of her free hand brushed lightly across his armor, almost as if straightening it after his fall to make him more presentable. "Perhaps I should mark you as a impure for firing on me. That was quite rude ... wouldn't you agree?"

Lowering his head again in shame, "I ... seek forgiveness ... for shooting at one as ... holy as you." He petitioned and requested, placing his hands upon his lap before looking back up to the women before him.

An almost angelic smile graced her features as she listened to the plea. Though his own sidearm remained pressed dangerously close to his head, the woman's posture was relaxed ... as if she were merely catching up with an old friend. "There now!" She exclaimed. "That was far more polite."

"Was ... it?" His mind trailing and attempting to ponder what was happening before him. "I ... don't want to die, I can still serve Him, Sister! ... Please I ....... sorry ... I never meant to hurt you!" He continued, as his eyes darted to the side looking to his weapon.

[Lord General Armstrong]

"Do you really mean that, I wonder..?" she mused, her hand coming up from his chest to cup his chin between her thumb and index finger. "Or do you just not want to die? Are you lying to me, hmm? Perhaps you should find a way to prove your sincerity."

"H-h-h ... how Sister? If there is a way to prove myself ... of course I will take it! I am a loyal servant of the Imperator, I pray to him daily, I pray to the Omnissiah during my periodic weapon maintenance duties! I do everything that is required of me ... please what can I do to show you?" His tone no longer fearful, even though he felt the barrel press against his head, he looked into her eyes seeking redemption, his own still watery. "Ave."

Sliding her grip, her fingers played lightly against his throat as her thumb came up to tap lightly just beside his eye. "You seem less inclined to cower now. Has something changed? Come now, you are a part of a grand cause, you should not be cowering against a wall ..."

"My Sister?" The Guardsmen asked, clearing his throat. "You ... s-still have a laspistol .... my laspistols b-barrel against my head." He stated, his tone more in concern and in inquisition than anything else. "A grand cause, that it is and one that ... I can best serve a-alive."

"Through a valorous life ... or a poignant death ... we all serve the Emperor." She replied in that same friendly, conversational tone. The guns barrel pressed directly over his temple for just a moment before she finally lowered the weapon. "Though, it is quite unseemly to not only allow yourself to be disarmed, but indeed..to have so easily relinquished your weapon of your own volition. Tsk, tsk.."

Suddenly finding a massive weight falling from his shoulders and an instance of relief. A small smile tugging at his face. "It was allowed to be ... requisitioned by a much more ... w-worthy cause and seemingly superior organization!" He spoke out, in a tone similar to that when he spoke to his superior officer, with obvious hints of sarcasm. As he pushed upon the wall and kicked his legs slowly dragging himself up.

The edge of her lips twitched as her smile momentarily became a smirk. Rising up as well, she did not give the man much room to maneuver and her eyes remained locked upon him in an almost eerie, attentive manner. Once he stood upright, the held the laspistol out to him in offering and gave a single solemn nod as she commented, "Well, clearly ..."

Reaching his hand out he let his fingers brush over her gauntlet, before taking hold of the weapons barrel. Taking it into his own grasp and giving it a flip, catching the grip in his hand before he holstered it. His shoulder lamp illuminating the surroundings and her, that power armor still giving off hints of intimidation and selfless divine. "W-where are we, I have not been in this part of the ship before?"

She remained steady though the fleeting contact, was not lost on her. His handling of the weapon drew a single nod of approval from the woman before his comment caused her to glance around. Arching one brow slowly she tilted her head slightly and queried, "Oh? Are you so unfamiliar with your own ship? How can you serve and defend if you don't know the layout?"

"I am nor Imperial Navy or a member of the Adeptus Mechanicus, this is not apart of my duty. I am but a humble Guardsmen, confined to training, preparations, drills, prayers and such trivial manners as mess times and barracks duties." He commented as he leaned aside, reaching a hand and grasping his shoulder torch shinning it down the halls. "This area appears abandon Sister, such proceedings are not uncommon. We do not know what lies, within these halls."

"No ambition.." she lamented with a light click of her tongue as he stated his place in the ranks. If she was serious or merely teasing the man she had so recently delighted in torment .. was anyone's guess. Gazing down the empty halls, a faint purse of the lips was offered as she herself had to take a moment to wonder exactly where they had ended up.

Pointing a hand over her shoulder, "that's the hall we obviously came down, after that it's a frakken maze, my Lady. I am sorry, Warp damnation I shouldn't have ran." He commented, taking his hand back and opening one of his shoulder pockets, retrieving another lamp one normally equipped in a lasrifles bayonet mounting. Handing the small device of illumination to her, he side stepped away and began walking down the hall.

Returning the earlier gesture, she brushed her armored fingers over his before rolling the small lamp in her palm and switching it on. "Yes," she agreed. "The running was a bit ill-advised. Honestly ... it was as if you planned to lure me down a dark corridor into an abandoned area of the ship ..."

"Honestly, Sister I do not get your meaning. One such as you, would often condemn me to holy fire for no apparent reasons. Surely you know of the stories and stereotypes surrounding yourself and your Daughters." He returned flatly, arching his torch across the walls and ceiling. The creeks and groans of disused machinery not serving to help the situation. "I wish to redeem myself in your eyes, Sister."

[Lord General Armstrong]

"If you were so very concerned for our reputation ... and penchant for indiscriminately sentencing men to the holy fires ... I wonder, why did you run?" she asked again, her own light shining as she moved along the corridors trying to locate some sort of landmarks in the uniformity of the ship. "Did it not occur to you that such an act would brand you guilty ... and thus condemn your entire squad to perdition?"

"I ... uhh. If such was to happen, merely staying would have had me cleansed by holy bolter. Running may have saved myself from such a fate, these ships have ... well as we can see ... many abandoned sections." He answered, however her full comments lead him to question. "Would you? Will you condemn myself and my squad?"

"Do you think I will?" she returned, glancing sidelong at the man who had gotten her so thoroughly lost in the labyrinthine ship. "Perhaps if you can find the proper route back to habitable areas ... we will never need to learn the actual answer to that question ..."

Those words made him cringe, himself resisting to ball his fists, or press her against the nearby wall. But ultimately he saw two outcomes, his death or some sick kind of pleasure as went the stories of these Sisters even one of obvious rank. "And that I will." He returned shining his lamp over the next intersection, glancing up the faint glint of an old area mapping lay ahead. Standing up upon his toes he unholstered his Laspistol and hitting the signage with his grip. "Okay, habitation areas are this way." He pointed down the hall, hoping to sweet Emperor that he was holding the map correctly.

It was the little things that brought amusement to life. She knew the guardsman was innocent of any overt wrongdoing ... but something about the look on his face as she had approached had urged the woman to press him and see what would happen. Getting quite lost, apparently. Ah well, she wasn't about to let him know that. Instead, she merely looked at the map he had located and wrinkled her nose faintly. "Time to take a glance at what fate has in store for you ..." she commented in an off-handed manner as she turned to regard the indicated hallway.

"Next right and then next two lefts." He commented, tapping a finger upon the map and reholstering his sidearm. "Umm, tell me ... Sister ... this may sound like a really stupid question ... but there are rumors that many Sister convents practice lifelong chastity and purity for the all mighty Imperator. Is ... that true?" His mind screamed at him to stop, such questions best left untouched. But they were in solitude no one else would ever have to hear the answer. "P-p-p ... perhaps I should drop the subject entirely."

[Jackal-0311]

Nice..need more.

[theemperor9]

This is brilliant, need moooarrre!!!!

[Lord General Armstrong]

Chapter 2: Benediction

As we serve Him, He is our greatest servant. As we pray to Him, His thoughts are only for us. And in the dark when the shadow's threaten, the Emperor is with us, in spirit and in fact.

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Real space was torn asunder, the fiery hell space known as the Warp began to ripple and pulse, it's unnatural energies attempting to lash out, escape from it's own immaterial universe. These energies, dissipating and collapsing unable to sustain themselves within our own reality. The eye of this Warp portal glowed a fluorescent purple, as a series of arcane vessels colored in pristine metal and gold began to part through. Lighting crackling against the ships gellar fields in protest as the numerous Imperial transports carrying the soldiers of the Imperial Guard and the resources necessary for conducting full scale war, along with their escort, a pair of Lunar Class cruisers exited, deactivating their Warp Drives, forcing the portal to close in upon itself.

The Bridge of Benediction was a mad center of tasks, petty officers and ensigns attending to their stations. A trio of naval armsmen, clad in carapace and armed with shotgun, standing as sentinels at the primary access door. An ensign laying upon his back and prone under his cogitator station, the station flashing and blaring, it's machine spirit screaming in turmoil, it's monitor displaying the constant image of a human skull, the device itself injured and seeking attention. The man whispering obscenities as he tried to remember the proper maintenance procedures and holy rites. A crew ratling looking and watching the display with open eyes, perking a smile and hammering his fist upon the desk.

The ensigns body stiffening as he threw himself forward, his head smacking into the underside of his desk. Muttering another obscenity while he wiggled himself out, kicking his leg at the Ratlings shins. “You Emperor damned grox frakker, what in the Warp do you think your doing!” The ensign screamed at him, his eyes burning with rage and his fists balling.

“Temporarily fixing your problem.” The ratling replied in earnest and the utmost sarcasm as he raised a hand and pointed to the station, the whining turning to a gentle hum and the terminal flickering back to it's regular parameters.

The ships coxswain, ... the ships tradition Navigator through the trip across Realspace sat at his station, entering in keys and digits. He sat humming, to a song of his homeworld something of a peaceful reminder, a memento of what he was fighting to protect, he did not seek glory, he did not seek penitence, he merely fought for his beloved home and what little family he had or could remember, their faces steadily becoming a distant memory.

The captain a grizzled veteran of a dozen campaigns sat easily on his throne, his hand and a single finger stroking down his scar that ran across his face. The wound attained, when he was but a mere oiler on the escort vessel, Divine Abundance when he and the crew fought back an Ork boarding party. His dance with death left the man cautious, questioning, he played his cards and always waited for the best hands to be dealt.

"Open the observation shutters, reactivate pict viewers, bring weapon systems online and send word to the Colonel tell him that we have arrived." Ordered the ships captain, the ships commissar standing idly by his side, a single hand as always drooped over his elaborate boltpistol. His gaze much like the Imperial Eagle itself, moved across the room as his other hand flexing it's fingers over his whip while he watched the crew perform their assigned duties.

“Expecting trouble?” Petitioned the commissar, lifting a single eyebrow at the captain as he scanned the man's features. The political officers coat wrinkling slightly as he turned. His small shift in motion causing his already negative guise to diminish, his loving ironing ruined by the slightest of movements.

“One can never expect safety in times like these Commissar, we must be prepared, we must use every resource to the best of it's abilities.” The captain confidently returned as he stood out of his deck chair and began wondering across the bridge.

"That is correct Captain, one must remain ever vigilant particularly one of your posting. Am I right, Geldarius?" The commissar calmly rebutted, his hand raising surreptitiously from his boltpistols holster. The political officers tunneled watch steadily changing and moving over the rest of the deck staff.

"Yes, Commissar. I know my duty and the duties of those under my capable command." Geldarius confuted as the prestigious fleet captain leaned over an Ensigns station.

[theemperor9]

Really goood!!!
Is this the same ship as the one the cannones was on?

The Emperor

[Lord General Armstrong]

Turning his attentions to the ensign before him, the captain planted his palm upon the mans shoulder and gave it a firm squeeze. "Do the nights still trouble you?" Geldarius quietly questioned, his tone ladened with inquisition and equal sympathy. The captains head tilted back slightly as he regarded the ships commissar, making sure their little conversation remained private.

"I suppose so, sir. I've seen the ships head priestess, she assures me that they are just night terrors. Though of what I am still unsure, I hear laughter, screams. The medice personal gave me some pills to help me sleep, it seems to have worked." The ensign sighing softly as he finished his admittance.

"You'll be fine trooper, just need something to distract you." Geldarius assured him, "Now, where do we stand?"

"Uh," It took the man a second to snap back into the job at hand, his attention once again falling to his cogitator station. "Weapons online, shields at full operational capacity, thrusters burning at 70%, reserved power held at maximum capability. Green across the board, sir."

"Excellent." The captain pleasantly responded, giving the man a final nod of the head before moving to the communications officer. "Report."

"Aye, sir. We've received word from our sister ship, no damage sustained during transit and they are matching our current heading." The ensign stated as he listed through the diagnostics.

"What of the transports?" The captain asked, lowering his head and reading the stations display.

"Fuel transports green across the board, troop transports report no noticeable disruptions, minor proportion damage on one of the general goods transports, major dorsal weapon battery damage upon another. Void shielding malfunction reported on two others, maintenance crews are working to restore disabled systems." Stated the deck petty officer, as he finished his report.

"Within above acceptable circumstances, I suppose next they'll want orders?" Geldarius almost sighed to himself, the man dreaded combat but knew of its necessity. Many of his closest friends had always asked him why he joined the navy. The man would always shrug and smile, "get our sister to continue matching our speed, tell them to prep weapons and shields. Get the dictator on the horn and tell them to send out a scout party of furies. I don't want any surprises, we're not having another incident like at Hamiles."

"Yes, sir. As you order."

[Lord General Armstrong]

Intelligence had stated that they were to cleanse the world from Ork infestation, but that was before they jumped into the warp. That final thought perked his interests and he swiveled in his deck chair to face the ensign to his left. "Hey Amandus?"

Admandus, she always thought of herself as a right minded Imperial. Always quoting from the training manuals and reminding everyone of the correct procedures for each and every task. Most of her peers quickly became sick of those reminders, not Fabian the man to her right. She turned her head and let out a long drawn out breath. "What is is Fabian?"

"Bring up the calendar and match it to the charts as per our entry into the warp." Fabian quickly requested, though unlike their time in the barracks his voice was direct and to the point.

"What why?" She had to question, though secretly and she would never let the man know. Was that she always found his on the job attitude attractive, unlike that of their off duty hours where she often wanted to punch the man flat in his face. The little smug frakker, oh the things she would do to him.

"Just do it." He began to demand, its urgency becoming apparent. "Sir, picking up sensor pings on the long range scanners!" The petty officer yelled, keying in numerous commands. Attempting to register what exactly these contacts were, though the man couldn't pin point it.

The captain looked over from the comms station and strided over to the bellowing officer. "Have they seen us?"

"Their decelerating, sir."

"Dammit, how many?"

"Six vessels, to early to tell what classes or even who it is."

"Fabian," came a soft whisper to the mans left. "20 years."

"Not now Admandus," Fabian looked over to her and back to the captain. "Sorry, sir. Wait ...... twenty years."

"A lot can happen in twenty years." Affirmed the captain.

[Jackal-0311]

Good work.