Holding position at the designated co-ordinates, a trio of Storm Class Gunboats lurked in the dark. Predators, the elite Coalition strike wing had turned back the Reaper's of Sirius, the Bounty Hunter Guild, and served the Premier faithfully in the civil war. Now they stood ready to do one more service for the True Ikon, the Coalition's Autarch, Premier Katz.
Thomas sat at the controls, sipping from a thermos mug of Tim Horton's coffee, watching the silence of Falkland's base, the Outcasts kept the place locked down tighter than a drum, with good reason, the Colonial Remnant were about.
Not that they mattered, all three of the Storms mounted cloaking devices taken from the CPW-Kerimov when she had been delivered to the Coalition by the Order... back in the days of the Alliance. A little prewar know-how, salvaged from the Resurgency mission, and they were ahead of the curve. An element of surprise the Coalition Captain wasn't prepared to squander.
The heavily armoured Coalition shock trooper moved to the hatch behind him, "Captain, we are in position, the men are ready to receive, awaiting your orders."
"So be it," the Captain said, turning back to his controls. "Now we wait for the confirmation that Commissar Mendel's offer has been accepted."
"I don't like it sir, dealing with... them..." the trooper's red lensed helmet nodding to the window.
"Ours is not the reason why, Corporal, the Order are a priority target at the moment, and this prisoner is worth his weight in gold to us."
Thomas sipped his coffee. "Finally, we can pay back the thieves that stabbed the Coalition in the back and set off the Civil War."