While the scale was in orders of magnitude larger than anything Aodha had ever been involved in, it still wasn't his first time being placed in the sights of another being's weapons. Were he to try and maneuver the<i>Aurora </i>in any evasive way he would surely be singing his own demise within a few minutes at best. Still, he wasn't all too concerned at the light craft buzzing right up to almost colliding with the<i>Aurora </i>before banking off to continue harassing the lumbering craft; the human vessel was quite capable of withstanding such an impact far better than the Serilline's. At least, Aodha was willing to place considerable faith in such an assumption.<br/><br/>"You mean to tell me this is contested space?" Aodha spoke aloud, without pressing his retriever to transmit such a sarcastic question. Afterall, he wasn't suicidal. "Aye, altering heading to five one seventeen. I take it that's a no on the beer?"<br/><br/>With a sigh, Aodha threw himself back into his pilot's chair. According to the navigation readout, it would be a good thirty minutes before rendezvous with the directed battleship in high orbit over the Throneworld. A scattering of other warships had clustered around the mighty capital ship in a loose formation to best spread their weapons fire out to blockade any starships that were to try and make a run for it. On this side of the planet, anyway, as their numbers were too few to blockade the entire moon without spreading themselves too thin and thus rendering the barrier ineffective. From his vantage point, Aodha watched as the deadly ballet between the Serilline crafts took place in his viewport and instruments. It seemed as equally matched as could be expected but Aodha could see the Asaring pilots, who had just tried to pick off his own ship, were playing too aggressive with their prey; eager to take the kill and the glory.<br/><br/>The outcome, however, Aodha did not stick around to see. Not when his ears picked up what sounded like movement outside the cockpit. Much less when that sound was that of pots and pans spilling out onto the metal floor in a cascade of metallic clangs.<br/><br/>Drawing his pistol from his coat once more, Aodha lept out of his seat and out of the modest-sized bridge. He all but vaulted down the four stairs to the decking bellow with the weapon raised at arm's length. Instead of taking the corridor to the engine room he headed further starboard towards the living area.  Rounding the corner he found the source of the commotion standing in the middle of the kitchen surrounded by an assortment of cookware strewn all across the floor.<br/><br/>"What the hell are you doing on my ship?" Aodha half growled, his weapon still pointed in the woman's direction. "What are you wearing?" He added quickly as he brows furrowed to try and place the colorful red and yellow outfit she'd wrapped around her body.  Most of which was bunched up about her feet while the front hung open enough to show a modest amount of cleavage; more so than the garment had intended, that he was sure of.