<br/><div class="floatleft">(http://media-cache-ec0.pinimg.com/736x/bd/6d/48/bd6d489c542c479491006f30bb1efb60.jpg)</div><strong>Name:</strong>Kiyanee<br/><strong>Location:</strong>The bridge/ Melded<br/><strong>Tags:</strong>open<br/><br/>A hundred thousand things go by in less than a breath. She does not need to be told to watch their prey's comms; she has been doing so from the beginning.<br/><br/>Now, a bit over six light-seconds away, a navsat, the distant descendant of ancient land-based GPS tech, sends out a lazy pulse. Basically saying "I am here, where are you?", the system is too stupid to know it has picked up a hitchhiker.<br/><br/>Kiyanee is flying without a ship.<br/><br/>When the ping is received by the cloaked pirate, it is not acknowledged- else what point cloaking? But the nav computer aboard the raider, as a matter of course, checks the navsat's time and ID stamps against its posited dead-reckoning location, for the purpose of internal navigation correction. In that fraction of a fraction of a second of passive contact, the pirates may as well have turned on the porch light and thrown open the front door to satellite-plus-Keys.<br/><br/>"Gateway," she murmurs into the comms- or more precisely, a high buzz comes out of her mouth, far too fast to resolve as a word. The tone and pitch let her new clan know what she has done. Half a second passes while she matches patterns against six assumed models for the ship's sensor tuning, chooses the closest match, tweaks it.<br/><br/>"Icepick."  It's another tiny sound in their ears that the women have come to understand, like the combat shorthand they use themselves in the field. The simple internal security protecting the Abrahms' piloting computer vanishes like a popped soap bubble, Kiyanee is in, and the pirate is blind.<br/><br/>"Darkgogogo." It will be at least one second before the system even notices it's been compromised. Another 1.5-2 will pass as it attempts to correct itself before alerting a human handler. Then, it will get interesting- but unless they have a rigger of their own aboard, and he or she is already primed and jacked in, there is no way their opponents can restore sensor coverage before the combat arm is inside their bubble.<br/><br/>Setting herself in neutral, doing nothing at several thousand times the normal speed of human thought, Keys relaxes, now simply providing overwatch lest one of the pirates prove more clever than average.<br/><br/>For one-who-was-Rou, it may as well have been a school exercise to this point.  Her body sighs and leans back in its chair, a clear sign to the pilot that one part of the job is accomplished.