Take us Home as we go

[Toaster]

For a brief moment, a faint shimmer enveloped the warship as its shield dissipated in preparation for the cloak. Immediately, the approaching fighters broke their tight formation and covered the remaining distance to the Roanoke at full throttle. Passing mere meters over the battlecruiser's hull, each ship released a swarm of Screamer EMP mines - each programmed with the Roanoke's schematics to target the communications array.

A series of bright flashes erupted across the warship's dorsal hull. External lights wavered as its power distributor briefly struggled with the abrupt surge; then it stabilized, the ship unharmed, apart from the sparks and electrical discharges sputtering from the now disabled radio dishes.

As the fighters - their deception revealed - looped about to form up around the now mute battlecruiser, one broke off and approached the ship's ventral hangar.

"This is Thorn," the lone craft transmitted to its wingmen. "We're going in."

As planned, the airlock's doors parted, admitting the Prosecutor into the Roanoke's bowels.

The hangar bay was in disarray. Armed men hurried across the deck, moving carts carrying ammunition and fuel out of the way for the landing fighter. A dozen insurgent crew members huddled at the far wall, hands tied behind their backs, a trio of guards standing watch over them - their otherwise identical uniforms decorated with identifying armbands. A handful of bodies lay half hidden behind the scarred wreckage of a forklift.

As it set down on its landing pad, the Prosecutor's cargo hatch opened and two figured clad in heavy body armor dropped to the deck, their booted feet impacting the steel floor with an audible thud. A third figure climbed down the still descending ladder from the ship's cockpit, joining them at the bottom. Together, they drew their weapons and strode towards the hangar's exit, their mirrored helmet visors revealing no interest in the men and women who had fought to secure the area for their arrival.

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Olivia Sable