Private A Cry Out Of Time

[R-5 (Rathen Vex)]

Equipment: Heavy Chaingun | Modified RSKF-44 | Micro Rockets ​

The SOS beacon echoed outwards into the reaches of space and the void itself, a new breath given to the metallic corpse that ushered itself into the infinity beyond. Panic within had ensued after a miscalculation on the Pirate Captains orders. The Weequay Captain having ordered his crew to send out the SOS beacon from the dead Mandalorian ship into the reaches of space after their ship fried itself resurrecting R-5.

Blaster fire echoed from the various crowded and ruined halls still scarred from a war that happened generations ago. A not relic of the past walks its very ground, armed with a large Chaingun, his blaster fire rained down on the now nearly defenseless pirates.

“Return fire! Suppress him!”

The pirates began setting up a heavy blaster chaingun mounted on a tripod as R-5 moved in closer. Spark spitting from the walls from various blaster bolts deflected by his heavy armor.

“Raytha, I want you to snipe him, there has to be a weak point in that damn armor!”

The Captain spoke into his comms as he returned blaster fire back to the now one machine army slowly approaching.

R-5’s chaingun still firing away mowing blaster fire in a horizontal arch aimed for their waistlines. The chaingun sputtered and started to overheat, causing him to mount it to his shoulder. Metal plates on his thigh opened up with a mechanical whirring sound as a hidden holster offered him the handle of his heavy blaster pistol, modified RSK-44.

He quickly drew it with his off hand, the targeting hud in his visor highlighting critical points into each individuals, headshots, neck shots, knees.

The pistol charged up with a humming sound before it released heavy bolt after heavy bolt, limbs disintegrated along with heads as each bolt hit their mark with brutal and efficient timing.

Raytha sat in the very back cloaked in camouflage tach, the Twilek sniper taking her aim as R-5 moved. She breathed slowly before she squeezed the trigger at the apex of her exhale.

The heavy slug fired off impacting into R-5’s neck, his body stunned for a moment as blaster fire slowly ceased.

“Exellent shot Raytha.”

One of the pirates started chuckling as they slowly drew closer.

R-5 quickly sprung back into action showing no signs of true damage as his pistol raised, the hud highlighting the barrel of fuel behind Raytha, his shot rocketed past her, just burning her cheek before it impacted the barrel with a massive explosion.
During the chaos of the explosion R-5 took a solid stance as his shoulder plates opened up, revealing small launchers of whistling bird micro missiles. They all launched, zig zagging and whirling through the air in unpredictable trails before each one hit their next mark, micro explosions taking care of the now wounded and screaming intruders.

Veyla Krinn
​

 

[Veyla Krinn]

Veyla didn't rush forward. The moment she witnessed the scale of him, the way he moved through the pirates with mechanical precision and overwhelming force, she slowed instead, her attention sharpening rather than escalating. This wasn't a battlefield she could simply step into and redirect; this was something older, something built for war in its purest form.

Her blaster remained lowered, not out of trust, but out of a calculated necessity. Her gaze tracked the movements of his weapons and the arcs of fire, noting how targets were selected and eliminated with a brutal, certain efficiency. There was no hesitation in him, and no uncertainty, only directive, and that told her everything she needed to know.

"You're still executing a standing order," she said, her voice carrying clearly through the corridor without rising, cutting across the fading chaos rather than competing with it.

She didn't approach too quickly, making sure every step forward was measured, deliberate, and visible so as not to be interpreted as a threat.

"Enemies identified. Mandalorian assets compromised. Response is justified."

She let the agreement sit for a fraction of a second before offering the correction, her chin lifting as her posture shifted into something unmistakably Mandalorian.

"Situation has changed," she continued, allowing a small pause to anchor the words. "Those hostiles are no longer your objective."

Her hand lifted, not toward a weapon, but toward her pauldron, where the markings of House Kryze sat clear and unmistakable even through the wear of combat.

"You are not alone on this ship. Mandalorian forces have answered your signal."

She didn't tell him to stand down yet. Instead, she offered him something his logic could process.

"Identify current Mand'alor."

The question wasn't rhetorical; it was a deliberate bridge. If he answered, she could guide him, and if he didn't, she would adjust. Her gaze didn't waver as she watched him.

"Until that is established, you risk engaging your own. Reassess targets."

She held her ground, balanced perfectly between caution and authority, meeting him not as something to be saved, but as a Mandalorian who simply needed a reason to stop fighting.

R-5 (Rathen Vex)

 

[R-5 (Rathen Vex)]

R-5's back straightened when her voice pierced the veil of combat before him, his body turning around in a fluid motion, his blaster pistol raised and ready to fire, but it didn't.

Almost instantly his finger relaxed on the trigger as his visors HUD revealed information on her as she spoke and drew nearer.

Analyzing…………Subject of Mandalorian descent.

Directive……….Negotiate.

Commandment number two in effect…….​

His blaster slowly lowered.

“Hostiles still pose a threat, hostile still wear Mandalorian Beskar. Retrieval is necessary to Mandalore.”

His voice deep, mechanical yet still….human. It was clear that this was no man in armor, nor was it a battle droid. But something else entirely.

His gaze looked towards the halls of the damaged ship.

“Signal?...I did not send for backup. The threats will soon be neutralized.”

Her next statement caused him to pause, his helmet tilting to the side as his hud scanned her armor and her house symbol.

“Mandalore The Ultimate, The Shadow Father.”

He quickly stepped towards the Mandalorian woman before him.

“We must go to his aid! Our survival hinges on his success.”

His actions though sudden did not contain any hostility towards her, but it did hold a sense of urgency.

Veyla Krinn​

 

[Veyla Krinn]

Veyla didn't flinch when he moved. The sudden step and the raw urgency in his voice. That had the weight of something long buried pushing to the surface. It did not pull her off balance. She held her ground, her posture steady and her gaze fixed on him as he spoke of a war that had ended lifetimes ago.

Mandalore the Ultimate.

The name settled between them like a relic pulled from another age. Her expression didn't harden, nor did it soften; it remained measured, firmly grounded in the present rather than the past, where he was still standing.

"That war is over," she said, her voice calm and certain without being dismissive. "Mandalore the Ultimate is gone."

She gave him a moment to process the words, refusing to rush the silence and letting the weight of that truth stand on its own.

"You've been asleep a long time," she continued, her tone quieter now but no less steady. "Long enough for Mandalore to fall and rise again."

Her hand lowered from her pauldron, yet her stance remained unchanged. Open, visible, and firm.

"There is a Mand'alor," she said, the title carrying the weight of an anchor to something real rather than a mere correction. "Mandalore the Iron."

She let that name resonate for a beat before adding, "And your directives still stand. Serve Mandalore. Protect its people. Destroy its enemies."

A small pause followed, just long enough to bridge the shift in his reality.

"Right now, that means adapting."

Her gaze flicked briefly toward the halls where the last of the pirates had fled before returning to him.

"The hostiles here are already breaking, and they are not your war," she said, stepping slightly to the side. She didn't block him but redirected his line of movement, guiding him rather than opposing him.

"You were found drifting, and your signal is what brought us here. That means your mission isn't to finish a battle that ended centuries ago."

Her voice remained even, though a firmer edge settled beneath it now.

"It is to return to Mandalore, and to the Mand'alor who still stands."

She held his gaze, steady and unwavering, offering the finality he needed.

"You don't need to fight alone anymore."

R-5 (Rathen Vex)

 

[R-5 (Rathen Vex)]

His grip tensed over his pistol, the reinforced alloys creaking under his strength.

His voice came out as a deep rumble

“....The war….”

His voice trailed as her words hit him.

“...it's…over?”

His stride stepped back with a heavy metallic thud that shook the foundation.

“And Mandalore fell…”

His heavy blaster pistol dropped from his grasp, landing to the deck with a loud metallic clatter as it bounced across the floor.

“No…We…I was sent to finish the war.”

His fists clenched at his side as his shoulders heaved like he were taking heavy breaths, the human element still showing signs like a muscled reflex.

“And Mandalore the Ultimate…gone…”

His gaze fell to the ship and its degradation of time. The degradation of his mandalorian brothers and sisters.

“Mandalore The Iron…”

His sight then fell to the breaking enemy now running off, wounded cries and groans of agony.

“I wish…”

He paused for a moment, almost as if in hesitation.

“To see home again…”

His visor fell to her, a cold feeling of loss hidden under his helm. A silent mourning flooding through his mind.

“Mandalor The Iron must know of my failure.”

Thoughts of Mandalore flooded his mind, his home, his people.

Veyla Krinn​

 

[Veyla Krinn]

Veyla didn't move when the weapon fell. The sound of it striking the deck carried through the corridor, sharp against the quiet that followed, but her focus never left him. She watched the shift in him carefully, recognizing it not as a threat but as something far more fragile than the armor suggested, not weakness, but a profound sense of displacement and loss.

When he spoke of failure, something in her expression changed, growing steadier and more anchored rather than softer.

"Ni su'cuyi, gar kyr'adyc, ni partayli, gar darasuum."

The words came without hesitation, her voice low but clear as it carried the weight of something older than either of them.

"I'm still alive, you're still fighting, I remember you, so you are eternal."

She let the translation follow naturally, making sure the sentiment landed before her gaze held his once more.

"You didn't fail," she continued with a calm certainty. "You were never deployed. You were taken out of the war before you could finish it, and that isn't failure; that's simply time."

A small, measured step forward allowed her to close just enough distance for her words to feel grounded. Her eyes flicked briefly to the ruined ship around them, taking in the dead and the age etched into every surface before returning to him.

"Mandalore fell," she acknowledged, making no attempt to soften the blow. "It fell more than once, but it never stayed that way. We're still here, the clans, the people, and the fight, and Mandalore the Iron leads us now."

Her tone shifted slightly, becoming more purposeful as she let a brief silence settle between them.

"If you want to see home again, then you cannot stay here chasing the ghosts of a war that has already ended. You go back and you stand for Mandalore as it is now."

She held her position, giving him something solid to step into instead of the void of what he'd lost.

"That's not failure," she said quietly. "That's survival."

R-5 (Rathen Vex)

 

[R-5 (Rathen Vex)]

The use of the mandalorian tongue pulled his attention to her. The words, he remembered those words from back then. To him was just the previous day, but to her were lifetimes ago. Mandalore had not only fallen, it endured, it survived, and its teachings still remained sacred.

This thought had brought relief to the old cyborg. There were still Mandalorians which meant there was still Mandalore and it’s rightful ruler.

His visor stared into hers when she spoke of survival.

“We Mandalorians, are capable of returning from the ashes. We will always survive. We will always endure and as long as that remains, I will always fight for Mandalore.”

He slowly bent down to pick up his blaster, its large frame perfectly fitting his grip as he brought it to his leg, the plates separating with a mechanical whirring as a hidden holster revealed itself. He holstered his pistol, then it disappeared back into the plates.

“I just need one more thing.”

He stepped past her as he made his way back down the hall, towards the command deck. He stopped where the doors were sealed, his HUD highlighting the blastdoor highlighting its weak points.

His hand jammed into the crease, warping the metal with ease. His arms pulled the blast doors open slowly, the metal groaning and straining under his pressure. Blaster fire came at him from the room he tried to open only to bounce off with little to no effect.

With a firm grunt and a firmer shove his arms slammed the doors open warping the doorframe and jamming the mechanism.

In surprising speed and efficiency he pulled his chaingun from his shoulder, the barrels began to spin up before a hail of blaster bolts rained on the only living pirate in the room. The barrels ceased fire, the whirring slowed down to a halt, only when silence fell did he step in.

Veyla Krinn​

 

[Veyla Krinn]

Veyla didn't move to stop him. The moment he turned, the shift in his intent was clear. Not reckless or uncontrolled, but purposeful and focused. She recognized it for what it was: a continuation of a duty long interrupted rather than a simple escalation of violence.

She followed at a distance that matched his pace without crowding him, her rifle lowered but ready. Her attention swept the corridor behind and ahead in equal measure while he tore through the blast doors as if they were little more than an inconvenience. The sound of metal groaning and giving way echoed through the ship, followed immediately by the sharp, rhythmic crack of blaster fire.

She didn't flinch when the bolts struck his heavy plating, nor did she raise her weapon to intervene. By the time she stepped through the mangled threshold, the room had already fallen into a heavy, ozone-scented silence.

Her gaze passed over the remains of the pirate only briefly before shifting back to him. She tracked the way he moved through the space, his focus narrowing now that the immediate threat had been neutralized. This wasn't about the fight anymore; it was about something he had come back for across the span of centuries.

Veyla eased a few steps further into the command deck, her posture steady and her presence controlled, though no longer held at the sharp edge of engagement. Her eyes scanned the room, taking in the flickering consoles, the structural damage, and the immense age of the systems around them before settling back on the ancient warrior.

"What are you looking for?"

Her tone wasn't demanding or heavy with suspicion. It was grounded and practical, neither questioning his actions nor judging the efficiency of his kill. She was simply aligning herself with his objective, already preparing to help him find whatever ghost he was hunting.

R-5 (Rathen Vex)

 

[R-5 (Rathen Vex)]

There was a moment of silence as his visor scanned the area, her question hung into the air with a weight of grounded curiosity, one he was almost hesitant to answer. To him naming what he was looking to find would only bring a sense of reality crashing down on him, but he steeled himself with a mechanical sigh.

“My Commanding Officer watched after this deck and his men.Strict when time came for order and function, but when it came to downtime, he was the closest I would have called a friend. My battle Brothers and Sisters all deserve funeral rites. But…I don’t have the hands to claim all of their helms.”

His footfalls stopped in front of a corpse donning crimson mandalorian armor, the color chipped and faded from time.

“Commander Krell.”

Almost ritualistically he knelt down in front of the corpse, his visor looking into the damaged helm of his Commanding Officer, a large heavy hand gently placed over the corpse's shoulder.

“I will be taking his helm, and honoring my squad's sacrifice.”

He slowly set his Chaingun on the floor to the side. A silence had overtaken him as he looked at his fallen brethren, then his hands lifted to the sides of his commander’s helm, slowly lifting it to reveal a skull.

He set the helm to the side, then activated his bracer, a hum followed by a holographic menu pulsed to life as it scanned the corpse, not long after the Commander’s bracer lit to life, downloading old photos and videos that were saved in R-5’s consciousness.

After a moment of quiet, his hand gently picked up the helm as he stood, his closed fist over his heart, his voice came out quietly.

“For Mandalore.”

He slowly turned to face the Mandalorian woman.

“What is your name?”

Veyla Krinn​

 

[Veyla Krinn]

Veyla didn't interrupt him.

She stood a short distance away as he knelt, her presence quiet but steady, giving the moment the space it deserved. Her gaze rested not just on him, but on the fallen commander, on the armor worn thin by time, on the history that still lingered in the room like something that had never truly left.

When he removed the helm, she didn't look away.

There was no discomfort in it. No hesitation.

Only recognition.

Her posture shifted subtly, not into attention, but into something more deliberate. Her hand rose, closing into a fist over her chest in a mirrored gesture, the motion precise and respectful.

"For Mandalore."

The words were quieter than his, but they carried the same weight.

When he turned to her, she met his gaze without hesitation, her expression composed, grounded in the present while acknowledging the past he had just stepped out of.

"Veyla Krinn."

A brief pause followed, not for effect, but for clarity.

"House Kryze."

Her hand lowered from her chest, but her stance remained steady, her attention still fully on him.

"You didn't leave them behind," she added, her tone calm, certain rather than comforting. "You came back for them."

Her gaze flicked once to the helm in his grasp, then returned to him.

"That matters."

R-5 (Rathen Vex)

 

[R-5 (Rathen Vex)]

He gave her a slow nod when she stated her name and house.

“A pleasure to meet you Veyla Krinn of House Kryze. I am…”

His voice trailed as his head looked towards his armor, a tilt of his helmet.

“I don't have a name. But I do have a model number. R-5.”

His stance straightened as he crawled his commanders helm in one arm.

“I do not believe in leaving a man behind. A loss of any mandalorian from Mandalore is a great loss. Commandment two prevents me from simply allowing Mandalorian life to be lost. Though…”

He slowly looked around the area at the different bodies stuck in positions they had died in so long ago.

“I am not always successful.”

His voice came out quieter. What she said next pulled his attention to her.

“They mattered.”

He slowly walked towards the door of the room.

“I have one last thing to do, then we will have to leave.”

He stopped and placed his hand on the metallic wall of the hall.

“I cannot allow anymore pirates or scavengers to obtain anymore Beskar. Not from the Armory or my crew. The ship must be destroyed.”

Veyla Krinn​

 

[Veyla Krinn]

Veyla listened without interrupting, her gaze steady as she followed the weight behind his words rather than the rhythm of his mechanical pauses. When he admitted he had no name, only a designation, her expression shifted, not with pity or a need to correct him, but with a quiet, grounding acknowledgment.

"R-5, then," she said, her tone even, anchoring the name as a fact rather than a question.

Her eyes moved briefly to the helm he carried before sweeping over the others scattered throughout the room, the silent remnants of a war long outlived by its soldiers. When he spoke of his refusal to leave anyone behind, she didn't challenge the sentiment. She understood that particular brand of loyalty all too well.

"You came back for them," she said quietly. "That's more than most ever get."

As he turned toward the door and spoke of the ship's destruction, her attention sharpened. She didn't see the decision as impulsive; it was a logical extension of everything he had been built for: denying the enemy, protecting the Mandalorian legacy, and ensuring nothing sacred could be desecrated by scavengers. Her posture shifted, signaling her intent to move with him rather than stand in his way.

"Then we do it clean," she said, her voice calm and practical. "No stray detonations or partial collapses. If this ship goes, it shouldn't leave a single scrap behind worth salvaging."

She paused, her gaze meeting his with steady resolve. "But we make sure we're off the deck before it does. You're not the only one who refuses to leave things unfinished."

There was no hesitation in her voice and no attempt to dissuade him. There was only alignment.

"I'll help you set the charges."

R-5 (Rathen Vex)

 

[R-5 (Rathen Vex)]

“They deserved more.”

He listened to her, giving her a slow silent nod when she agreed to help him with the destruction of the ship.

“Charges are in the Armory. We will set them up in the ship's core, though the ship is dead, that core still has enough energy to destroy the ship.”

He bent down to pick his heavy weapon back up, the sound of metal on metal grinding against the floor echoed through the room before he stood up straight and tall, towering in the room.

“We can set a longer countdown on the explosives so that we are well out of range when it detonates.”

He spoke to her as he headed down the hall, talking almost in a tone of a long lived soldier, objectives and directives, that was all that mattered at the moment.

“Where is your ship located? We must plot a route back to it in case something goes wrong.”

He turned to face her, his visor looking down to her a near emotionless state over the faceplate of the mask and the well known T visor design.

“Then, we head back to Mandalore after we have cleaned up here.”

Veyla Krinn​

 

[Veyla Krinn]

Veyla fell into step beside him without being asked, her pace steady and unhurried as he shifted into the language of objectives, routes, and contingencies. It was familiar ground to her, the kind of thinking shaped by operations where survival depended less on heroics and more on preparation.

When he said they deserved more, her gaze flicked once toward the room behind them, then forward again.

"They did," she said quietly. "This is what we can still give them."

She listened as he outlined the plan, charges in the armory, placement at the core, extended timer, and clear extraction path. There was nothing in it she needed to challenge. If anything, it reassured her that beneath the shock and loss, his instincts were still precise.

"Good," she said, her tone calm and practical. "Long timer, multiple failsafes, and no single route we can get trapped in."

Her hand brushed briefly over the controls on her vambrace, pulling up a compact holo-display before she keyed in a signal ping.

"My ship is close," she continued. "Docked off the pirate approach lane, far enough to avoid the blast radius, near enough for a fast extraction."

A small rotating schematic flickered between them, showing relative position and corridor access.

"If the primary path is blocked, we cut through maintenance conduits on deck three and rejoin the starboard corridor. If boarders are still alive, we bypass them unless they force contact."

She glanced up at him, meeting the visor without hesitation.

"Mission first. Clean exit second. Revenge doesn't make the list."

There was no criticism in it, only clarity.

She closed the display and kept pace beside him, posture settled into the rhythm of movement and planning.

"Once the charges are set, I'll handle the timer and route checks while you verify the core."

A brief pause followed before the faintest edge of warmth touched her tone.

"Then we take you home."

R-5 (Rathen Vex)

 

[R-5 (Rathen Vex)]

A nod of approval came from him after she repeated the plan, along with different routes they could take to her ship. The Armory was not too far from them, but getting to the core may be a bit more tricky.

He knew what the route looked like to the Armory and knew where it was clear to walk. He had not visited the core in some time, it could be messy in that area.

But he was up for the challenge.

He would not linger on the ship. Its time had come and gone. To him this was the most respectful send off he could give it. His hand gently touched the hull of the creaking ship that seemed to struggle to move in the vacuum abyss beyond its walls.

His HUD then flared to life as it marked his pathway towards the core.

“Follow close.”

The militaristic order came from him naturally as he started to make his way through the halls. Distant echoes bounced back to him from his footfalls along the ancient metal walls.

The chain gun held firmly in his hands as they rounded the corner, his visor highlighting the area to detect foreign lifeforms and threats. He did not see any.

"Clear."

The Armory was just up ahead. Not too much further.

Veyla Krinn​

 

[Veyla Krinn]

Veyla fell in behind him without hesitation, letting the distance between them stretch just enough to give her a clean view of the corridor they had already passed through. Her rifle stayed low but ready, her attention anchored to the rear, where the silence felt thinner, less certain.

"On you," she said quietly, confirming she had his flank.

The echo of their movement carried farther than it should have, bouncing down the corridor and returning in uneven fragments. It wasn't the sound itself that caught her attention.

It was the way it changed. A second rhythm slipped into it, faint at first, then clearer. Not the heavy, deliberate step of armored movement. Lighter. Faster. More than one. Her posture tightened.

"Hold pace," she said, keeping her voice controlled and low, not breaking his forward momentum.

The first shape broke from the darkness just as she turned, a scavenger rounding the bend at speed, weapon already coming up. He didn't get the chance to fire. Veyla's rifle snapped to her shoulder in one smooth motion, a tight burst catching him in the center of his mass and driving him back into the wall behind him.

She didn't stop to confirm the kill. Because there were more.

Two figures pushed in behind him, spreading instinctively, trying to flank through the corridor's width. Veyla shifted with them, stepping into the angle before it could fully form. Her next shots were sharper, more precise, one catching a shoulder and spinning the first attacker off balance, the follow-up taking him clean through the chest before he hit the ground.

The second fired wide in panic, bolts sparking off the wall near her shoulder. She didn't retreat. She closed the distance instead, cutting his angle down to nothing as she stepped inside his line of fire and drove a shot upward beneath his guard, dropping him where he stood.

The corridor fell quiet again. For a moment.

Veyla held her position, rifle still trained down the passage, watching for movement that didn't immediately show itself. Her breathing stayed even, controlled, her focus sharp as she listened past the fading echoes.

Nothing followed. Not immediately. Only then did she shift back into motion, stepping over the fallen without breaking stride as she reestablished distance behind R-5.

"Rear's compromised," she reported, her tone steady, factual. "Small scavenger group. They won't be the last." Her gaze swept the corridor one more time before settling forward again. "Keep moving," she added. "I've got it covered."

R-5 (Rathen Vex)

 

[R-5 (Rathen Vex)]

The echo of blasterfire sounded off behind him, his three sixty gaze activating to watch her, she had it handled. His stride continuing down the corridor.

His bootfalls thudding and echoing off the walls, up ahead he noticed a small man made barricade. Behind it were a few more pirates who had set up a turret.

“Take cover.”

His comms connected to her so she could hear him, just before blasterfire rained down.

R-5 continued his slow pace forward as boots bounced off his chest. His shoulder panels opened up firing small homing rockets towards the gunmen with aggressive precision.

They did not have enough time to avoid the incoming fire. Some did not even realise the lethality heading their way.

His hand dropped to his leg holster that opened up, drawing his heavy plasma blaster. Each charged shot hitting their mark and instantly incinerating the men and women that came in contact with the energy.

His legs pushed him harder, faster. Ramming his heavy body through their barricade splintering it to pieces.

One pirate screamed from the scare before R-5's bracer activated, washing the pirate over with superheated flame.

Silence fell once more. Then he looked back.

“Clear. We are getting close.”

Veyla Krinn​

 

[Veyla Krinn]

Veyla had no intention of trying to keep pace with the sheer destructive force R-5 represented because that simply wasn't her role here. While he advanced like a walking siege engine through the heart of the ship, she remained several corridors behind to ensure nothing slipped through the gaps to circle around them, knowing the pirates had already demonstrated enough desperation to make unpredictable flanking attempts highly likely.

The sharp crack of blasterfire echoed through the passage ahead as R-5 engaged another group, followed quickly by the distinctive whine of micro-missiles before silence fell once again.

Veyla exhaled softly through her nose at the quiet.

"Remind me not to volunteer for the job of standing in front of you," she remarked dryly, her voice carrying easily over the comm channel as she stepped over the body of another pirate who had apparently decided chasing them from behind was a brilliant idea, though it had clearly proven not to be.

Her rifle remained raised while she swept another side passage before falling back into motion, moving at a steady pace toward R-5's position along a corridor that bore the fresh, violent scars of the engagement ahead. Splintered barricades, scorched metal, and the lingering smell of burning fuel marked his path as clearly as a trail of flares, and when she finally rounded the corner to reach him, her emerald eyes swept the wreckage automatically to confirm what his report had already implied.

Nobody was getting back up.

"Armory's close if they're willing to commit a turret team this deep," she observed calmly while checking the adjoining intersections. "Either they're protecting something important or they're running out of places to fall back to."

Her gaze lingered briefly on the ruined barricade before settling on the massive cyborg beside it. Despite everything they had spoken about since meeting, there was still something surreal about watching him fight, as every movement carried the absolute certainty of a warrior who had been designed, trained, and deployed for a war so old it had long since become history. Yet here he was, still moving, still fighting, and still resolutely carrying out his duty.

"Either way, we're making progress," she said, shifting her rifle back toward the corridor ahead. "Let's get those charges, finish what we came here to do, and get your commander home."

Without another word, she fell into step beside him again, keeping her attention fixed on the shadows and side corridors while he led them deeper toward the armory and the ship's core.

R-5 (Rathen Vex)