"Alright, gentlemen. I'll be pulling an EVA to go inspect the probe, and I'll be attaching some tethers to haul her back. Are you who's coming along?"
He glanced at the two green-armored soldiers; one with black trim on his light combat armor, the other in heavier armor with red trim. Notable, while his handgun would kill either of them immediately, it actually mattered where he aimed at the heavy-armored soldier; and beneath the armored shell was an equally durable rough grey hide.
The black-trimmed soldier stepped up first. "Of course. Marine Chelt at your service. The captain would have just sent me, but as we drew closer, we found the remains of an old Yogg mining ship broken nearby; the two are just meters away even. Records show it was abandoned, the crew left to die a long, long time ago after they crashed their ship, but its always possible they set a trap. Rogue slaves do that sometimes, when they're running low on atmosphere and don't have any means of striking back directly."
"Ahh." Another brushstroke in painting the picture of just how things worked in the Republic. Hopefully he could find some of these 'Swarm' folk who weren't as bad. "Why would the ship be left out here for so long? Surely, even if the slaves aren't valued, the equipment itself would be."
"Well. The ship was old, unarmed, and broken down. But... it was a mining ship. In theory they were out of fuel, out of explosives, out of air; out of anything useful, really. But it might have been a trick. The Yogg set thousands of them during the war, so if they had enough time after the crash to realize they were doomed... one wreck like this had a life-sensor on it, rigged to set the whole thing off as soon as someone got close. It's why we bing our friend here." He nodded at he heavily armored soldier.
The massive armored figure stepped closer. Whatever he was, in the armor he was stronger than Jason. And no slouch when it came to reflexes, either. If he left the man alive after the first blow, and of course didn't dodge appropriately, his helmet would be crushed like a grape within seconds.
Jason extended a hand to the creature; which brushed its own fist against his hand for a moment. "Here to go first. If blow up, hit me instead. Not hurt me. Captain want you stay inside until I reach probe. Make sure it safe."
He blinked. This.... was this an act? He turned to the black-trimmed soldier, who made his own equivalent of a shrug. "Shrem here is a type two, from an extreme-gravity world. Savrick, they're called. Not too bright, but able to comfortably move around anywhere from half normal gravity to sixty times normal." Jason's helmet helpfully translated that as a range from 0.35 to over 40Gs. Clearly Shrem's entire species would be the equivalent of a 'Brick' sort of metahuman; obnoxiously strong and tough for their size and mass.
"It's actually kinda funny; you see how bulky his armor is, right? bet you think the power augmentation is even better than this standard navy gear?"
Jason glanced it over. "I suppose. It's a bit primitive in some respects, from what I've seen of the armor I'm wearing, but while its probably based on the same system of cables retracting and extending, having more, thicker cables would mean higher maximum capacity."
Chelt patted the bulky form on the shoulder. "Except when he's on active deployment, the armor actually fights him. Helps keep him in shape. Normally he's like... three hundred times as strong as a regular Marrick. That stuff keeps him down to like seven or eight, til he turns it off."
"...Is it able to actually augment him at all?"
"Not really. Savrick and Hovarrick are both so strong that none of our augments can keep up. Don't live so long as a consequence, but the Founders created such a wide, amazing diversity, and they've been quite valuable to the republic. You sealed, sir? I know me and Shrem are, but... your helmet's non-standard.... and we're in position."
Jason nodded. "I'm ready. And... here." He extended a pair of softball-sized objects to the marine. "These are magnetic tethers. Whatever you slap them on, they'll stick to and start pulling it towards the ship, slowly. I've got a few dozen. Any wreckage that looks like it might be from the probe, put one on. I've got a case full to pass out. I'd planned to do that all myself, but if you're here..."
"Of course, sir."
Eyeball glanced at the ship... as the air hissed out of the room, being pulled into storage containers against the flashing red warning lights of a decompression alarm... before the door slid smoothly open, four triangles sliding into the walls; each with an emergency handle on it, just in case.
He could see the void of space, the massive space-rock they aimed for; one which had a few visible, tiny, chunks of metal floating around it, and looked as if it had a massive indent; likely the result of ancient mining work.
Shrem emerged first; leaping out of the airlock and hurtling towards the wreckage like a cannonball; while Chelt came out more slowly; raising a particle rifle to his shoulder and slowly accelerating, keeping pace with Jason like a watchful bodyguard.
From here, out on the edge of the system, the planets; four enormous gas giants; were just dots in the distance; only the star actually had any meaningful size. And, of course, the 8AD. He turned as he floated backwards, looking over the ship; a long, sleek thing, it looked dangerous, despite the soft teal color the Republic seemed to favor so much. He nodded to himself. If it was going to be his first ship in this new galaxy, it would need a better name. And a better paintjob. He turned back towards the rock, watching Shrem fly off at a rapid pace... when suddenly a line of text appeared over his HUD.
~All required equipment manufactured. Nine dead aliens in light non-combat space armor discovered; currently being used as Pale Ones. They will play dead until the enemy draws close, then ambush. I also have six complete Ascension-grade combat robots with improvised railgun-based weapons and controllers. Is the enemy ship prepared?~
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"Mute. Encrypt, Ascension only. There's a new prototype dimensional space aboard that is rigged up to disable the ship; currently hooked directly into it's power grid. I can't promise it will last more than ten seconds, of course, but I can release a non-damaging pulse that will leave it mostly intact, siphon all of the juice out of the grid to uselessly make the space bigger, or just flat-out destroy the ship. Do not try to ambush the incoming creature in red armor. It's the equivalent of a class-B tank of a metahuman; Butcher was about this level of toughness when he was maybe thirteen or fourteen. That thing could turn an Abrams into wreckage in about three seconds with whatever sort of 'claws' that armor has."
Shrem was slowing down; and stopped next to a chunk of metal that appeared to be a large part of the probe casing. He turned back to the others. ~Arrived at the probe. No response; safe to approach. The wreck in the asteroid appears to be warm. Request permission to inspect.~
Ascension responded, even as Shrem was talking. ~Understood. I have a complete bridge system from the mining craft ready to go, and don't need theirs at all; if you can temporarily disable the scoutship, I can take it's normal control system out of the loop as soon as I achieve contact. I will have basic controls within seconds, and absolute controls within minutes of clearing the ship of enemies.~
"How long will it take you to reach?" He could hear Chelt and Shrem speaking; and Shrem started to head further into the asteroid, to make contact with the wreckage. If Jason pulled from here... he could take the creature out with his first shot. Best to get this all at once.
~Six point eight three seconds.~
"Disabling the scoutship in three seconds; I'll be shooting the incoming soldier the moment it's done. Launch when you see it."
~Acknowledged.~
Jason could see it now. If he initiated the shutdown, and shot the red-trimmed alien... the alien would look around, confused, for just a moment, before the bullet hit. His head would vanish, leaving behind the rest of his armored shell. And.. a strange-looking mass of metal and ore would hurtle past him to slam into the engineering section of the scoutship like a projectile; so fast that it would at least make contact within his foresight.
He took a deep breath. This was the moment. It wasn't too late now to stop this, and turn this into a retirement; a luxury retirement the likes of which most could never dream. Money. Fame. Power A host of attractive alien women; likely hailed as the hero who was the tipping point of a galactic war.
Just leaving the gun in its holster, sending the Republic a corrected, working version of the extradimensional storage device... Or.
He would end up as a criminal again. Rebel. Pirate. Probably a mass-murderer; not likely he could stop this Republic without killing off most of its navy, somehow. And not just the die-hard space-Nazis like Kisth, but also quite a few of the innocents just being dragged along by the system, like Lert and Charis.
On the other hand... these were the genetically engineered descendants of a band of horrific, megalomaniacal lunatics who wanted to eradicate all life in the universe that didn't descend from themselves. And quite possibly they'd end up killing off even that, eventually.
As Shrem started to move closer to the wreckage, Jason slid the classic 10mm handgun, one fabricated and then enchanted millions of lightyears away, the instrument of death for some of the most dangerous beings on earth... and now in Andromeda as well, as a smooth trigger-pull set off a capacitor that had been used as an improvised propellant; and send the bullet slamming into the back of the alien's head... and through it, even as he swiveled his aim; centering it on the confused, black-trimmed marine.
The soldier was gawking at the missing head of his friend, and the sudden emergence of a strange, mechanical blob hurtling out of the wreckage, trailing dozens of metal tentacles like some sort of horrific robotic octopus... when for him, it ended. The second round going through his own head, leaving him tumbling lifeless through the void.
Behind him, on the ship... it had all gone silent. The probe had overridden the ship's systems, diverted all power to itself, shutting off shields, lights, comms, even artificial gravity; and then unleashing an EMP spike, disrupting... mostly just the smaller, hand-held devices and control panels. The actual equipment itself, beneath those panels, was still functional; and given time, the crew could override the power draw, or destroy that probe, and get it all working again.
Time they would never have. As the betentacled mass slammed into the engineering section of the ship, forcing open an airlock door and sending a few chambers contents streaming out into space, Jason turned back towards the scout-ship, aiming his handgun at the bridge... and frowning. This enchanted sidearm could put a hole right through it, but these Marrick wouldn't die to explosive decompression, and he couldn't make out the captain's position.
He started to accelerate; the thrusters built into the repainted Republic power-armor suit sending him flying towards the fore of the ship; the captain, at least, he wouldn't feel bad at all about killing. "Helmet. Bring me up a layout of the bridge. Show me precisely where the Captain's chair is."
***
Inside the 8AD, it was chaos. The lights had gone out. The panels had gone dark. There was shouting. Yelling. As the pilot immediately fell back on emergency procedures; bypassing the touchscreen control panel and pulling out a set of manual controls that connected directly to the ship's manuvering thrusters; and suddenly, there was a loud pop behind him; the rush of air; and the terrible feeling he hadn't experienced since the academy, of his eardrums trying to pull themselves from their sockets.
He grimaced; as he pulled his helmet on, closing his eyes. He would be blind for a few seconds; potentially critical seconds in the event of an accident; or some ancient Yogg booby trap having damaged the ship. The moment a crisis had started, his helmet should have been on. As it stood...
He blinked a few times, focusing, taking a deep breath of recirculated air; and glanced back at the captain. He stopped, shocked; there was a hole taking up a third of the captain's torso, leaving his organs and blood flowing out of the bridge alongside the air and random debris; out through a hole almost a meter across to his right. Whatever it was had made a fairly small hole, not much bigger than a finger, in the hull; then blossomed out in devastating fashion through first the captain, then the other side.
He shook himself. Captain or no; without any surviving Yogg to aim it, if he could move the ship, it should prevent any further attacks from striking home. He pulled the manual levers carefully; the debris left in the cabin pushed down towards the floor as the ship adjusted itself upward, ensuring that any further shots, if they were aimed at the same spot, would miss the ship.
He glanced at his suit's readouts. The air filtration system wasn't powered. Nor were comms. If everyone else were in the same boat, it would make recovering from this disaster a challenge.
Making a few more, minor course adjustments, he activated the magnets in his boots; those, at least, not requiring power; and turned; setting one hand against the shoulder of the navigator, who, aside from getting his helmet on, had yet to take action, and was just in a panic there, still strapped in. When he touched the man, he could hear his labored breathing; and he spoke. "Nav. Your air filtration is off. We need to get spares, or we'll start to suffocate. I've moved us out of the line of fire of that trap. If you can get the filters, I'll start putting some rough hull patches in."
Hopefully, that VIP and his probe were still okay. Even if the captain had died, they'd at least be able to keep their jobs if the mission itself came out okay. This might even be a great chance to prove one's worth, get promoted.