Vincible

[Amy West]

Scrap.

It littered Texas like children's building blocks on a playroom floor, with nebulae filling the role of the obligatory vomit. Not pretty, nor clean, but such was life in the expanse of the remnants of Liberty's golden age. The return to the expanse gave a sense of palpable dread for some, curiosity for others. You never knew what would end up in these fields, much less what to do with them.


Incursus drifted just outside the Pequena Negra, a wing of Heavy Lifters off her port beam, and an aging Judicator to her starboard. Scanner arrays active, lights beaming in, and the combat logs drew the ships towards the last known location of the last Naval group that gave chase, taking drift telemetry into account of course.
Five-hundred meters into the Negra, a slight glint shined back, the sensor suite picking up a massive hulk in range. Then two, then four, then seven, until the sensors were loaded with the wrecks of a dozen ships, the largest of which rivaled the Incursus in size, and showed heavy disfigurement.

"Cell B, move in and secure it. Mind the cloud, don't take any chances."
West eyed the operation from the bridge, ensuring the Incursus and her escort stayed their distance. Despite shielding, even departing Kansas left the ship with burns on her hull. Fitting burns, but not the ones West was fond of.

The lifters moved in, pushing aside whatever debris they could before making hardlock. The massive hulk groaned and ached, straining under the stress as the lifters began dragging it out of the nebula. With proximity to the nebula, detection was unlikely, which played to their advantage.
As the hulk was pulled from the cloud, the damage became clear. Direct hits to the bridge, weapons command tower, port command center, and the hangar bay seemed to be literally leaking fighter wrecks. The Dreadnought's iconic axe-head was dented, blasted with radiation, pock marked with weapon hits, and just behind it laid a massive crater where the remnants of the Incursus' long-range artillery slammed into the ship's hull.

"She's a damn mess.. Can anyone spell 'project'?"
West grinned, eyeing the beast. While a wreck now, and indeed probably the last thing anyone would even think of rebuilding, she saw it as an opportunity, a chance to see Liberty's warships in a new light. Her own tuned up squadron of personalized fighter craft was step one, her gunship step two. Now was the coup de grace of her arsenal.
"Bring it in, Cell B. Prepare to move out. Let's get this thing to its new home." Turning over to her executive, she continued. "Gallows, prep Cells D and H, and have Davis move the Abaddon to provide support. These other ships here just became sovereign property of the real Liberty Navy."

West turned back to the large hulk before her, the lifters beginning their long journey back to Vespucci. As the ship began getting underway, a visible grin crested her lips. A good eye would tell that her work was only getting started, and that she'd have no intention of stopping.

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"The truth's always harder to swallow than a simple white lie.."
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